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Chapter Text

Prologue

3 ABY

Visenya Vardalos knew she was going to die.

She had done a few foolish things in her life. Handfuls of foolish things, if one asked her friends; astronomic tons of foolish things, if one asked her parents, and yet despite all of that, she was not a fool.

She was coughing blood, she was short of breath, and there were ominous, tender pox marks in the little dips between each of her fingers; she knew this infamous fatal illness when she saw it. It was not a question of if she would die, it was a question of when.

She couldn't fritter her time raging and cursing and wondering where she had picked it up; disease was an equal opportunity sort of human experience, and she had long since lost some of the aristocratic snobbishness that had lingered from her upbringing –

A younger, more vivacious Visenya might have turned up a neatly pointed nose, scoffed at the notion of a common illness, snapped her fingers for a good physician to work impossible magic – but Visenya as she lived and breathed now had no such airs, and no such access to privileged health care.

What she did have was a decent apartment that on many days out of the year, was too cluttered and cold because she forgot to pay the bills. Chronic absentmindedness was a remnant of her airheaded socialite days. She had a job she was constantly late to – but did exceptionally well at, due to her pretty face, and wildly infectious, flirtatious personality – an estranged family, and, first and foremost, now that she was – unarguably, a dying woman – a very beautiful little girl for whom she had to consider making arrangements.

It was on the day that she realized she would not survive the winter that Visenya realized she had never been – never quite tried hard enough to be – a very good mother; at least, not in the sense that one probably should be a good mother.

She sent her daughter to school, of course, and fed her; she also bought her lovely, much-too-expensive clothes, sometimes at the expense of turning on the heat. She had never planned on having a baby, and yet when she'd gotten pregnant, she'd thought what Visenya Vardalos always thought about things that were wild and shocking – well, this will certainly be fun!

She had never hurt her daughter deliberately; she had never lost her, or left her anywhere, or punished her harshly – in fact, Visenya rarely disciplined at all; her major parenting flaw was inattention. She couldn't blame her lack of involvement on the curse of youth; she hadn't been too very young when her daughter was born – in fact, in her well-to-do parents' eyes, she was much too old for mistakes like that, though their opinion hardly mattered, as they'd disowned her long before she involved herself with that wrinkled smuggler.

Visenya had merely always harbored a certain love for herself that precluded loving anyone else more, and she was prone to brushing unsavory responsibilities aside. So when she took a look at the blood on her handkerchief one day, and noticed that climbing the steps to their apartment winded her beyond what was normal for her age, she opened her eyes wide and took stock of her life, and of her daughter's, and wondered how the hell the bright young thing had turned out so well.

She was kind and polite and well-behaved; she had a habit, Visenya noticed, of watching her mother with concerned wariness, as if she needed to save her; she never fought at school, she was never in trouble, and she never ran wild – all day Visenya had watched her, while clutching the handkerchief in her pocket, thinking she must have lucked out with her daughter's temperament, or she must have inadvertently cursed her with it, by being such a frivolous mother that there was no time for the little girl to run wild and careless as she should.

And so, in an instant – a sobering, but resolved instant, nonetheless, Visenya had chosen to be the most outstanding mother she possibly could be, perhaps out of a tiny, flicker of selfish desire to have her daughter remember her well, but mostly because death put life into perspective, and there were many parts of hers she had lived wrong.

She found herself gripped with significant fear over what would happen to this child of hers, who she had all too often treated more as a pet than a human being – loving her when it was posh and convenient, ignoring her harmlessly when she was absorbed in something else, or in love with some new man – Visenya had cut all ties with her former life, even the socialite aspects of it –

Her wealthy, high-ranking Corellian family had never set eyes on Visenya's daughter, and never would; they abhorred her origin as they abhorred every man Visenya had ever aligned herself with – and the wealthy aunt who had always secretly liked Visenya, and furnished her fistfuls of cash on the side, had died a year and a half ago. She had been elderly, anyway; she never would have been able to take a child and raise her.

Late into the night these days, Visenya worried; she picked at her nail, chewed on the edge, and did research – she had no friends that would be willing, or worthy, to take her daughter, she had no family – the only recourse she could find was the Corellian mandate that when the custodial parent died in instances of separated parents, the courts automatically awarded – no, not even awarded, forcibly attached – custody to the surviving parent, providing they were determined to be a moral, ethical, and honorable individual.

Moral, ethical, and honorable – so very Corellian, and so very not what Visenya's long-vanished paramour had been.

She hadn't given her daughter his name – not visibly, not really. She didn't talk about him – not out of spite, for there was nothing spiteful about him, or their affair – it had been merely that, an affair, and she hadn't even thought it necessary to place his name on the birth documents or attempt to send him a message letting him know.

Despite having his child, she hadn't even really spared a thought for him in years, until his name became famous in the intergalactic wanted ads – and his face was plastered all over the holo, just under those other two rebels –

Public Enemy Number Three, Han Solo, wanted by the Empire and the Hutt outlaws of the galaxy, and here, on Corellia, Visenya sat at a vanity studying her reflection, debating whether or not to fill out the papers that would name him as the father.

Visenya sighed; she put her forehead in her hands and stared down at the electronic documents, the pages still staring up at her emptily – had it really been so many years since she'd seen him; had it really been so many years since she'd had her baby?

She pursed her lips, dragging her teeth along them to scrape off the remainder of dark lipstick. She tapped her chin with a manicured nail – she supposed there was some slight chance the Vardalos clan would step in and take her daughter after all, with Visenya out of the picture and no longer around to embarrass them –

Ah, but no; it wasn't just that the little girl was a bastard and a disowned daughter's child, she was of mixed skin, and the Vardaloses were too rigid and old-fashioned to love her despite it.

Visenya scowled – for all she'd been, for all the girlish adventures she'd had and scandalous roads she had taken, she had never been prejudiced, and perhaps that's what alienated her high born family the most.

The state; it was the state, it seemed, that would care for her child – though she mulled over finally naming a father just on the off-chance that he could handle it, that Corellia would track him down and ensure she was with family –

Because for all he'd been, for all his rough-and-tumble ways, and his gambling, and drinking, and devil-may-care smile, and the trouble he got into, Solo had never been a bad man, and if the rumors were true, if he was with the Rebellion – well, that took some guts, and some courage of heart, did it not? Certainly more than it took to become an Imperial officer, and he'd failed at that, he'd already been expelled when she met him, still in possession of his bloodstripes, though, and if Corellia let him keep those, then surely –

Yet he was hunted daily; the price on his head rivaled that pretty little thing atop the list, and because of the added bounty from the Hutts, it tripled the Skywalker kid's kill price.

There was hardly a chance the authorities would track him down just to hand him his long-lost, unknown daughter – and Visenya was starkly terrified, like she should be, as a newly resolved, very good mother, at the idea of her child in a war zone. But what was more terrifying; war zones, or orphanages?

Visenya bit her lip, staring at herself, for once not caring how she looked, or how she would look – what mattered is what would happen to her daughter, months from now, when Visenya herself was dead and she was alone in the world, with no idea of where she'd come from and no one to give her a real home, the kind Visenya should have been giving her all along, and not just for a few scared, sobering months at the end.

She picked up a stylus and tapped her holo screen, running a hand through her hair – she pulled distastefully at green streaks in it, internally chastising herself; twenty-seven, Senny, and you still dye your hair like this; grow up, grow up, grow up –

Senny, she thought, tapping her pen earnestly on the page to keep it live – that's what he'd always called her, out of laziness, or charm, she didn't know – she tried to imagine what he'd say if she could tell him, or warn him in person – something like, Kriff, Senny, quit fuckin' around – a kid, no way you had a kid –

She groaned quietly – why had she? She was so stupid when she was younger; she'd thought no more into it than – what the hell; kids are cute.

She loved her, though. Visenya loved her daughter more than anything, even when she mothered her lukewarmly, and she was such a sweetheart, he would love her, too – he would, even if he was shocked, and angry –

Visenya ran her hand over her mouth and then swept her stylus across the few blank spaces in the documents, writing, over and over, firmly, in any space with the word father under it –

Han Solo, Han Solo, Han Solo –

Filling in, under his name – Citizenship: Corellian.

There, there – he was listed, then, and if he ever survived his fight, there was the off chance – well, her daughter might have a home, and maybe he'd be good at it, maybe he'd be more mature than she was – though she couldn't help thinking she must be out of her mind, because he'd been just as reckless and risk-oriented as she had; running illegal spice was not the game of honorable men –

Yet fighting oppression was, and she had no idea what the hell he was doing with those rebels, but he was with them, in the spotlight, and he was remaining with them, and she wanted to believe that things might work out and he might be able to take her, so she let herself believe it –

"Mama!"

Visenya turned, laying her pen down, covering the datapad with a scarf.

Her daughter dashed into the bedroom, dark, curled hair flying behind her, the ribbon, from a sash on her dress, trailing through the air in a colorful streak.

Visenya held out her arms, and her daughter scrambled into them, climbing up on her lap.

"The holos," she said breathlessly, in her earnest voice. "The holos, Mama, they say the rebels might have all been killed."

Visenya shushed her softly, stroking her chin – oh, don't say that, darling; not all of them, she thought – and it was likely propaganda, anyway; the Empire so abhorred losing, even the image of it.

"They must be hidden well," Visenya murmured, shushing her again quietly.

She tilted her head back and looked down at her daughter, smiling bravely.

"Vada," she said quietly. "I love you very much," she promised.

Vada held her breath, and grinned, putting her arms around her mother's neck. Visenya hugged her, burying her face in the little girl's hair for a moment – she needed to get through winter; for heaven's sake, Vada couldn't be alone, and handed off to the State, in the harshest of months.

"I need to talk to you," Visenya murmured softly. She pulled back, and touched Vada's chin. "I want to tell you about your middle name."

Vada tilted her head, her lips going up in a very familiar crooked smile – how, Visenya asked herself, could I have thought so little about him, when she looks so much like him?

"Solo?" Vada asked, piping and curious.

Visenya swallowed nervously, nodding her head.

"Solo," she agreed, her mouth dry. "It was your father's – "

In the coldest reaches of the galaxy, far off the beaten path from Corellia, Han Solo was shouting at a Princess on a military base constructed of ice.

Chapter Text

Chapter One

"Crash Webbing"

Throughout the Rebellion, and by the end of it, Leia Organa had seen so many days that irrevocably changed her life that she had learned to take them in stride. She even thought, when she looked back on it later, that she had been able to handle this day with such elegance because she had faced horrors that far surpassed it.

And this – this was not a horror, even in the depths of her shock and confusion, she would never have called it a horror, this thing that crashed into her life – their lives, she didn't want to be selfish – on a simple, slow-moving third day of the week – it was, it was –

Leia had no way to describe what it was, not to herself, not to Han, not to others – not at first, and not for a while, but later, an older version of herself, to whom it was the norm, and not a harsh thunderbolt that took the breath out of her – would call it something like a blessing.

She was restless in her apartment, scouring files in her office, bored, lamenting the lack of work – there was no real work. She was quickly, maddeningly discovering that rebuilding a democracy was a whole lot of hurry up and wait, and they were waiting right now, waiting for answers from systems, waiting for key territory to be won.

That's where she was, her office, when the apartment chimes rang out in a gentle melody, and she rubbed her temples lightly, unsure if she was pleased to have an interruption, or chagrined – she drew a blank on who it might be; she associated with so few people who made unannounced personal calls – and Han would never ring the bell.

She leaned back in her chair, her legs crossed, breathing out slowly through her lips – and to think, she had just been about to loosen her hair for the day, unweave it from its tight-knit coif and braid it into something soft and nice that would make Han's eyes light up in that way that made her heart stutter –

The chimes again, and she rose, her lips pursed, brushing imaginary strands of hair behind her ears, her fingertips framing her face for a moment as she went to answer the insistent sound. Without thinking much of it, she smoothly keyed in the unlocking permissions, her shoulders set neatly to greet whoever it happened to be.

When the sleek metal door slid open with a flourish, she was barely able to take a look at the two faces on the other side before both had bowed low, bent over at the waist, noses parallel to the ground.

Leia arched her brows in mild surprise - it had been a fair while since she'd been greeted so respectfully – so, ah, royally. She was almost too distracted to glance over the third person - child? - accompanying them – almost.

She might have overlooked it if the child wasn't staring right at her.

Leia tilted her head - the girl's gaze was calm, and very slightly suspicious. She stared at Leia, unfazed by the reaction of the two adults with her, and her only response to their deference, and the appearance of the woman before her, was to clutch a stuffed toy in her arms a little tighter.

"Your Highness," one of the adults murmured - which effectively reminded Leia that she was supposed to graciously release them from their bows.

"Oh," she said under her breath, in a slightly amused tone. "Ah, you may rise."

She hadn't spoken so formally in so long that it felt strange, even absurd.

The two adults straightened, and kept their heads inclined respectfully – Leia's lips pursed, and she thought – not unkindly – that they comported themselves like two individuals who had no idea what aristocratic protocol was, and had read a strict manual on such things before coming to her doorstep.

"Can I help you?" Leia asked politely, looking quizzically at the child.

With little hesitation –

"Your Highness, Princess Leia; we are sorry to disturb you," began the female professionally. "We have been in the process of tracking down Han Solo, and have found ourselves unable to establish a valid address for him. A recent source implied that he," the woman suddenly paused, as if she realized she was about to make a highly improper accusation.

Her eyes widened, and she fell short, clearly having rehearsed her speech without imagining how it would sound when falling on the ears of Princess Leia herself.

"A recent source, speaking without malice, gave us reason to believe that he is residing with you," the male counterpart took it upon himself to finish the little speech, tipping his head forward respectfully again, his expression less uncertain – this was a man who, though he respected the customs of other planets, was not awed by royalty – which was no doubt a result of having grown up in a society where royalty did not exist.

Leia studied the woman for a moment - there were more than a few people consistently attempting to confirm the rumor that Han Solo and Leia Organa were living together – and then she turned her eyes on the man, her expression guarded.

The woman interpreted Leia's silence correctly, and cleared her throat.

"We have no interest in Media gossip or your personal life, Your Highness," she said sincerely. "It is imperative that we find Han Solo."

Leia looked at her, and her male counterpart, and then at the child, and she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, staring - and she stared quietly, until the little girl furrowed her brow, and glanced away, and Leia realized that she was scaring her.

"You can find Han here," Leia said neutrally. "Though he is not here right now."

Without mincing her next words, she asked:

"Who are you?"

The two looked at each other.

The man inclined his head.

"We are with Corellian Social Services," he said, with a tone of someone taking care not to lie, but well aware of how definitive his next words were going to be.

Leia looked at him for a long time, and then she looked back at the child. She had stepped behind the woman and was peering at Leia less calmly, her dark, wide eyes wary and nervous.

The little girl shifted under Leia's gaze, and then seemed to decide it was best to appear genial, and she smiled - an eerily familiar crooked, half-smile –

Leia blinked once, and without a visible reaction, thought – and I suppose she belongs to Han.

It was a calm thought, though she was sure the panic would hit her later – it did hit her later - the strangest thing was, she had no doubt that was exactly what must be going on here.

Leia stepped back.

"Come in," she said neutrally.

She folded her hands at her waist as she pivoted to the side, instinctively assuming the stance she might have held at a formal ceremony in one of Aldera's grand ballrooms – it felt silly, instantly, but the decorum she had been raised on was where she found her strength, particularly in moments when her mind was running wild.

The woman entered first, ushering the child along with her; the male followed them both, and it was Leia who placed her palm lightly on the access pad to shut them all in together, her fingers slipping slightly against the warm reader – look at those eyes, her mind whispered, look at them, his eyes, those are his eyes, Leia.

Looking was inevitable; the little girl peered past her chaperones, eyes rising above that stuffed toy, staring at Leia with trepidation – and in a detached way, Leia wondered if she stared because she was frightened, or because she was fascinated.

Does she know who I am? – the thought crossed Leia's mind, and she was uncomfortable with it – though it wasn't an indignant thought, it wasn't something she thought haughtily, or with any sense of importance – it was just simple, an honest question.

Did the girl have any idea why she was here, or was she lost, kept in the dark – such a thing seemed so outlandish, when Leia had laid eyes upon her, seen these people at her door, and been seized with such a surety of their purpose –

She was right, wasn't she? She would be right.

She looked so much like him –

Leia cleared her throat, moving from the short hallway and directing the company first towards the dining room – which was sparse, and never used – and then, after a swift change of heart, to the more comfortable living area. One seemed too formal, the other too personal, yet something had immediately ignited inside of Leia, something that told her – any choice you make right now, honey, you better make it for the sake of not scaring that little girl.

She thought that made the living area a better choice, and there she took them, extending her hand, inclining her head.

"Please, have a seat," she offered.

The two adults both looked alarmed – and Leia was struck again by the notion that they had read a limited manual on how to interact with people of her rank, and had drawn blanks on how to react to being asked to sit in her presence. Leia almost laughed, because they thought her so regal, and they were standing in a living room where the very Han Solo they were looking for sat with his boots up on the sofa, until Leia shouted at him to take them off, and he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her over the cushions, tickling her until she gasped with laughter, and forgot her protests about the dirt –

They still stared at her in abject uncertainty, and Leia relaxed her arm a little, lifting her brows.

"Sit," she said again – eliminating the 'please' seemed to make it more colloquial for them, more natural, and Leia let them turn to each other and look about hesitantly – that very aggressive something that had ignited inside of her told her to ignore them, if they were going to fumble about, and she took a few steps to better see the little girl.

She compressed her lips, trying to remember the last time she had interacted with anyone under the age of sixteen. She drew in a quiet breath – she thought about bending down, but she wasn't that tall, wasn't that intimidating, and she didn't want to patronize – bypassing the elders with the girl, Leia spoke directly to her.

"I'm Leia," she said gently, putting a hand to her chest. She nodded her head kindly. "You sit down anywhere you like," she offered sincerely.

She looked utterly startled at being spoken to, and Leia felt a pang of sympathy – oh, if this was what she thought it was, it had to be miserable for this poor girl, and a flash of irritation shot down Leia's spine – she swallowed it, keeping her expression as soft as she could.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked – she was a little shy herself, though it did not show.

The adults seemed more alarmed that Leia was conversing directly with their charge than to have been offered seats in her home. She ignored the glances they shared with each other, and when the little girl only gave her a wide-eyed, wary look, and slowly shook her head, dark eyes never leaving Leia's – Leia turned her eyes coolly on the guardians with her.

Her demeanor froze slightly, as she considered the impending situation – they had sought Han, hunted him down, and expected him to be here, perhaps – to ambush him? And for whose benefit – for the little girl under their care, for his? Had they dragged her across the galaxy to Han's old haunts, or was she here – despite their apparent deference to Leia's stature – as a statement, because they knew if anyone could make Han Solo appear in an instant, it was Princess Leia – she ih-ih-ihhhhs having an affair with him, you know, after all –

Well, it was not an affair; Leia reaffirmed that frequently, to herself, to him, to those in her inner circle who wanted to offer her alternatives to him – not an affair, a life, a life she was trying to have with him.

And this, whatever bombshell this was, whatever tactic these social workers were using – it was not fair; not fair to Leia, to Han – and not fair to this child, who still stared at Leia with such unease, with such wide, anxious eyes – Han's eyes, that's how Han looks when he's scared –

Leia cleared her throat.

"Sit," she said again, her voice sharper this time, her eyes landing hard first on the woman, then on the man – and they sat, finally, and only Leia and the girl where left standing, and Leia knew from experience that it must make her feel taller, and probably safer; Leia herself often asked those taller than her to sit in her presence – they saw it as an honor, she gave herself higher ground.

She waited, gathering her thoughts, and in the silence, the girl took a deep breath, and turned to find a seat – Leia noticed that she carefully avoided sitting near her two escorts. She climbed into an armchair, and turned around, sitting up very straight, and placing her toy in her lap facing Leia – and she appeared to wait, silent and still.

Leia admired her for a moment, distracted, and then turned to the pressing matter at hand –

"By law, is there anything you can tell me without General Solo here to name me as a trusted party?" she asked shortly.

She took refuge in her knowledge of common law, and with social services, almost every planet had certain provisions in place to prevent the distribution of private information. She used Han's title, as if to remind them whom exactly they were dealing with, and then a moment later, she wasn't sure why she did it, because she noticed the little girl hung her head a little.

The woman hesitated; it was the man who spoke.

"We are entitled to give information that would aid in us finding Han Solo," he said neutrally. "That gives us significant leeway," he paused, tilting his head. "Your," he thought about it, "authority gives us somewhat more."

Leia's mouth hardened at that – the implication that he might break certain legal confidences because of her rank infuriated her, but she maintained her composure, following an instinctive guidance she hadn't even known she had. She raised her hands, palms up passively, and tilted her head.

She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"Let me raise Han on my commlink," she said calmly. She used his name, this time, and she noticed it drew the girl's attention back up, and Leia looked at her, nervousness twisting in her stomach – those eyes – is this Han's daughter? This is Han's daughter, and I am not – I am not classically trained for this –

"I can see to it that he's here fairly quickly," she said dryly, speaking over the scramble of thoughts in her head – why was she so certain? This could be nothing; this could be – a hapless paternity accusation –

No, that something inside her was calm, firm: you know that is not it.

She was loath to leave the room, but to page Han, she needed to step into her office – and in her office, she could take a moment to breathe, to let her hand shake slightly; she couldn't imagine what she was going to say to him, but the one astoundingly clear thought she did have was that right now, for once, Han would need her much more than she needed him.

He had gotten too comfortable with the mundane, with the domesticated. All his life, Han Solo had been impossible to nail down, homeless, on the run, nomadic, broke, and hanging on by a thread – in both an emotional sense, and a more visceral sense. He'd built some kind of half-criminal life on schemes, scams, and risky decisions, all of which landed him in hot water with the Hutt cartel, which threw him into the Rebellion's orbit, and miraculously led him to Leia. Princess Leia, who had very recently – and quietly, of course – told several of her closest mentors to go fuck themselves when they asked her to reconsider her scoundrel paramour.

The end of the war brought a baffling restructuring of the entire paradigm of his life, and it was startling how natural it was. He went from charming smuggler for hire with a rough reputation to respected wartime general; he traded homelessness for roots, and dealt in business and politics and contracts and economics as deftly as he'd once dealt in glitterstim and trigger-happy threats. Domesticated, mundane – he stumbled into a stable life, with an incredible woman, and he stopped expecting his life to blow up in his face at any given second.

There was no real way he could have seen it coming, but if he'd been less reformed in his ways, he might have been less surprised, might have handled it better. Years later, when he looked back on that day – and he never remembered what date it was, or even what he'd been doing that made him ignore Leia's comms – he scowled at the lack of gut feeling.

It went about as badly as it could have gone – though Leia was less fatalistic; she assigned most of the blame to the administrative handling. For what it was worth, Han learned to let it go, but he never forgot it, and even when the shock had been adjusted to, and she – his daughter – had become the norm, instead of an alienating stranger, he wondered if she resented him for his reaction to her.

He resented himself, but he couldn't have known –

He'd been up to something at the old Imperial armory on Coruscant, now requisitioned by the victorious Rebellion as its fledgling military headquarters. Whatever he'd been doing, it was something incongruous to the majority of his illicit life, and eerily reminiscent of his days at the Academy in Coronet City. He knew he'd shrugged off a drink with Antilles, and put off doing something with Chewbacca with the Falcon.

"Leia's hit my comm a coupla times," he muttered, waving off the Wookiee as he growled questions. "She doesn't usually do that."

Distracted, he rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the bothersome little device. It rang all the time now, with tasks that had meaning. He was still adjusting to the concept of having a steady job, and a permanent reality.

He stood with Chewie outside the Falcon's ramp, speeder helmet tucked loosely under his arm. Once upon a time he'd never have bothered to wear a helmet; nowadays, he always strapped one on, because Leia asked him to, and because he couldn't shake the image of her biting her lip, stressing and worrying about him, when he was reckless.

The ship was docked at a private hangar not far from the apartments Leia rented in the old financial district.

Chewie asked if Han had returned her call, and Han shook his head, shrugging.

"No, 'm on my way over there," he said. "I's just tellin' you why I'm not gonna help with the engine leak right now."

Chewbacca shrugged, snorted something smugly about not needing help, and not requiring Han to check in with him for permission to visit his girlfriend. Han rolled his eyes, and slung his helmet over the handles of his speeder, leaving it docked in its spot.

He checked his comm again on the short trek up to her – their? – apartment. The suite where Leia lived. Where he stayed, most of the time. It wasn't necessarily true to say he was living on the Falcon anymore. But her name was on the lease, and they'd never explicitly had a conversation. For so long after the victory at Endor, their lives had been in motion, transient. They were on missions together or on Coruscant at different times, and it seemed natural that he stayed over when their schedules overlapped – yet now that they were both here, or so it seemed, for the foreseeable future, there was that definition of their living situation that – lingered.

Undefined by them, and speculated upon by the outside world. Han assumed Leia's reticence on the subject was related to privacy, but in his less secure moments, his skin crawled with the dread that it had to do with reluctance to publicly confirm a relationship with him.

He didn't dwell on it.

He tucked the commlink into his back pocket, frowning. Four times Leia had tried to raise him; that was odd. She was often incommunicative during the workday. He narrowed his eyes as he approached the door to the suite, keying in the access code and offering his palm without giving it a second thought. He was too absorbed in wondering what was wrong.

"Leia," he called, as the door slid shut behind him. He snorted. "Saw your calls. You find a nest of cosm-wasps in the 'fresher or somethin'?" he joked. "You never hit emergency call," he added hastily, as it abruptly occurred to him that something could be seriously wrong.

He stopped, berating himself for not assuming so in the first place, and swallowed hard.

Leia appeared in the hallway. The first thing he noticed was her complexion – she was white as a sheet. She stared at him briefly as if she hardly recognized him, and he stared back, a shiver running up his spine.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head a little, her eyes wide.

"When have I ever called you about insects?" she asked.

He arched his brows, a little amused. Given her pale expression, and the tension that was obvious in her posture, he hadn't expected that to be the first thing out of her mouth. He shrugged.

"You never call me 'bout anything," Han retorted, shrugging. He strolled forward, reaching for her arm, and leaned down to kiss her. "You're so used to not needin' me you forget you need me," he reminded her charmingly.

She veered away from the kiss, tilting her head up. She compressed her lips, her expression softening.

"Han," she said quietly.

He drew back, wary.

"What?" he asked again. "Somethin' wrong with the kid?" he pressed, keying in on the one thing that would distress Leia faster than anything – Luke, anything having to do with Luke in danger.

She blinked sharply, taking a deep breath – kid; the irony of the word. She shook her head. She stepped back, appraising him, and then stepped forward again, placing her palms on either of his arms.

"You need to take a deep breath, and come into the sitting room," she murmured firmly. "I tried to raise you on the comm so it wouldn't be an ambush," she said.

Han studied her intently, his jaw tightening. It sounded like –

"Am I bein' arrested?" he asked dryly.

Leia's lips pursed. To his surprise, she laughed, and he tilted his head grimly.

"No," she assured him. She hesitated. "That is your primary assumption?"

Han blinked.

"Yeah," he said bluntly.

"No," she said again, rubbing his arm.

She started to speak again, then compressed her lips hard, shook her head, and tilted it. She let her hands slip off of him, and he followed her lead, dogging her footsteps with apprehension.

"Leia, what the hell's going on?" he asked edgily. "You're scarin' me," he added.

He saw her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath.

"This is not going to be easy, Han," she said, turning her head slightly. He saw her lips moving distinctly as he looked at her profile while she led him into the living room. "Corellian Social Services is sitting on our sofa."

He tried to process that, frowning hard. The first word that stuck out to him was – our. That was one thing to add to his mental running list of indicators that they were living together. He blinked a few times, brow wrinkling – social services? He hadn't had any dealings with his native planet's government since they gave him his bloodstripes. He sure as hell wasn't a minor, and he didn't have any –

Cutting his own thoughts off, he stopped dead in his tracks when he walked into the open sitting area. Remembering it later, he didn't know if he stopped when he saw the girl on the sofa, or because it had aggressively occurred to him what he was about to face – though he had none of Leia's calm certainty about it.

An automatic grimace jumped to his lips and he gave a hard look to the two adults in the room. Bitterness, and defensive words, rose in his throat, but he kept his mouth tightly shut. It figured that when he reformed himself, and ended up close to a rich woman, he got slapped with a paternity suit; it was a damn miracle no one had tried it before, and there'd been plenty of women –

"Han," Leia said, holding her hand out gently. She gestured not to the two adults, who were both sitting stiffly, circumspect and wary, but to the child sitting in an armchair – Han's armchair. That was – his place. "This is Vada."

Han blinked. He said nothing, staring at her. She had a mess of wild, dark curly hair; dark skin that clearly indicated mixed racial heritage, and big, kind amber eyes. She sat very still, hunched over a little, clutching a stuffed animal, and stared right at him. He felt a subtle, seizing pain in his chest when his first thought was that she looked vaguely familiar, and his second thought was – Vada? That means proud in Corellian.

Leia watched him, pressing her hands together tightly – did he recognize himself in her? Or did he recognize her mother? With that thought, Leia had to swallow a bitter taste in her mouth – doesn't matter, now, that woman is no threat to me.

Han folded his arms tightly, and looked away from her, seeking Leia's eyes. He searched her expression, waiting for direction on how the hell he was supposed to react.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked lamely, bewildered. He felt as if he'd walked into a nightmare.

"General Solo," the unfamiliar woman said, standing up. She folded her arms in front of her. "As you know, Corellian law has strict custody parameters that require a child to be placed with the living parent if at all possible – "

"I don't have a kid," Han interrupted flatly.

Next to him, Leia winced, and turned, resting a hand on his arm.

"Han," she placated.

He shook her off, stepping away a little.

"I don't," he repeated. He tried hard not to look at the little girl who had been staring at him so intently when he first saw her – Vada. Vada? He clenched his teeth. "You can't just come in here makin' accusations," he said, bristling.

His head swiveled from Leia, to the two adults, and passed over the girl as dispassionately as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bow her head, hunching her shoulders more, and he looked fiercely at Leia.

"This is probably some extortion stunt, Leia," he said aggressively.

She hesitated, choosing her next words carefully.

"Her name is Vada Vardalos," she said calmly.

Han suddenly hated how calm she sounded. Her skin was still white, and her muscles tense, but she was composed, and graceful, and it only served to make him more hostile.

He tried to tuck it away; he felt that seizing pain in his chest again, sharper this time.

"Did you know a woman by the name of Visenya Vardalos?" Leia asked, her eyes searching his – he saw the barest flicker of hope in them; for Leia, this was the one question that would negate what she'd already decided to accept. If he said he didn't know the name –

And he had to douse that subtle flicker in her eyes. Visenya. His eyes flickered, widening a little in shock, before he hastily tightened his expression again. He dug his heels into the carpet beneath him, slowly turning his head to look back at the little girl. The vague recognition exploded into utter familiarity; the hair, the slope of the nose – for a moment, he was staring at the mother, and he resisted the urge to reel backwards.

His heart plummeted, and he swallowed hard.

He opened his mouth to speak, and all that came out was –

"Senny?" he muttered, grunting the nickname reluctantly. "Yeah," he said bluntly. He shrugged his shoulders roughly. "Y'know, you kind of look like her," he said to the child. He blinked, briefly thinking that was an odd, insensitive thing to say. He turned a cold look to the woman from social services. "I've known a lot of women," he said curtly, trying to recover. "It doesn't mean a damn thing."

He almost instantly regretted it. He knew he sounded unfeeling, cold – and in addition to that, he resented mentioning other women around Leia. She was utterly devoid of judgment regarding his past romantic life, but lately he'd hated that he'd ever been with a woman who wasn't her.

Leia rested her hand on Han's arm again, stepping closer. She ignored the comment about all the women he knew, and he tried to read her expression when he looked down to her sharply. He did not shake her off this time.

"Vada is seven," she said under her breath. She paused. "Is that…?" she trailed off, the rest of the question unnecessary, and Han drug his nails into his arms – seven. Well, seven years or so ago, give or take forty weeks, he'd been – still on Corellia, and running around the old money district gambling, drinking away the bad taste Bria Tharen left in his mouth, and –

He bowed his head and reached up to rub his temple. He swallowed down a few explosive swear words, and turned his head slightly, peering at Leia beneath his hand. He just gave her one curt nod – yes, her age made it possible.

Leia only squeezed his arm.

"Well," she began. "This is – "

"Hang on," Han burst out, experiencing the situation as if he were outside of it. His own voice rang in his ear like a garbled echo, and he couldn't take his eyes off of Leia for a moment.

He dreaded looking over at that armchair – he remembered Visenya's eyes; they were violet. The eyes peering out of that little girl's face were – he feared seeing his own eyes.

"This doesn't make any damn – what is this?" he demanded, unfolding his arms. One fist clenched at his side, he was peripherally aware of Leia placing her hands over the fist, and hiding it at her side. "Where the hell's Visenya?"

He grit his teeth.

"I haven't seen, or heard – "

"Miss Vardalos passed away almost three years ago," the woman offered politely. "We understand this is a shock, however, it is only now that your life has become stable enough – "

"I'm s'pose to take Visenya's word for it?" Han interrupted loudly. He couldn't stop himself from scoffing, and shook his head. "I'm not the only man Visenya ran around with."

"Han," Leia said sharply, raising her voice.

Nettled, he gave her an incredulous look.

"You ask for a blood test?"

She looked stricken, scrambling to figure out how to placate everyone in the room. She stared at Han, shaking her head a little – she had not; but she felt it was a technical afterthought that they would of course seek, but would only confirm what she already assumed was true.

Han kept staring at her, impatient, and was irritated when she turned away. He watched her gaze at the girl for a moment, and then go forward, bending down to check on her. Leia lifted the child – Vada's – head a little, and Han saw she was sobbing; quietly, and trying to hide it in her stuffed toy, but crying all the same.

He had never felt so small in his life. His eyes widened. Leia gently let go of the girl's face, and stepped in front of her, hiding her tears from view of the room. She looked from the male Corellian, to the woman, and pursed her lips fiercely.

"This has been egregiously mishandled," she said curtly. "I regret not altering your methods sooner, but I'm afraid your tactics muddled my better instincts as well. You," she said, directly to the woman, and then turning to the man, "have a young girl here in a room full of strangers crying her eyes out. I presume you've told her she's to be handed off to a man she's never met – who has, until this moment, had no clue she existed?"

The woman hesitated. The man stood, folding his hands in front of him and inclining his head.

"We intended to foster an introduction. It's been difficult tracking General Solo – "

Leia held up her hand. Han noticed it was shaking slightly.

"Egregious," she repeated icily. She paused, letting the word settle, and then turned to look at Vada Vardalos. "None of this is your fault," she told her firmly. "Han is not angry at you," she added.

Han jolted, his eyes wide. It was such an instinctive comfort Leia offered, and he wouldn't have thought – his thoughts racing, he swallowed hard, trying to find something to say. He rubbed the back of his head roughly.

"No'm not – not pissed at you," he said uncomfortably. His jaw tightened. "And – if Visenya's – I didn't know she was – " dead, he thought, not wanting to remind the girl her mother was gone.

He felt like he had tunnel vision. His ears were ringing. He could hear Leia clearing her throat.

"Where is Vada currently being housed?" she asked sharply.

The woman took a deep breath.

"She is with me, in housing provided by the Corellian Embassy," she answered. "I assure you, it is safe, and she is well taken care of."

Leia sniffed derisively.

"I suggest you take her back, perhaps feed her, and give her a safe place to calm down," Leia said. "That will give myself and General Solo a moment to process this. Unless you had intended to abandon her the moment you found her father, logistics be damned?"

"Of course not," the man said hastily. "We, of course, will take great care to make sure the home is safe, and there is a period of evaluation for General Solo," he turned to Han abruptly, "a blood test is your right. You'll need to submit – "

"Where's she been?" Han interrupted hotly.

"I – beg your pardon?" the man asked.

"For almost three fucking years, where's she been?" Han demanded.

"Coronet City," the woman answered.

The look Han gave her was icy, and just as demanding – he didn't need to ask again; his glare told her that he was asking, specifically, where. He felt nauseous. He'd grown up in Coronet City without a mother. If it was anything like –

"She was in a city home," the man said flatly.

Han stared at him. He looked from him, to the woman, in disbelief, and then up at Leia. He turned away, running a hand over his face hard, and thought about storming out of the apartment. He had no idea what the proper reaction was. He was still having trouble processing this at all.

Ultimately, what he did was keep his back to the room, pressing his knuckles into his forehead. He barely listened to the noises behind him, until he heard more movement, and Leia saying –

"I will contact you tonight," she said shortly. "Do not make the mistake of going to sleep or silencing your comm."

Han turned, watching numbly as the two – three— gathered their things to go. Leia, many inches shorter than both the Corellians, still obviously commanded the room, and intimidated them. This time, he did not look at the adults; instead his eyes were on the girl as she was ushered out with them. Her face was still streaked with shiny tears, and this whole time, she had not said a single word.

"Hey," Han said, louder than he meant to, startling her to a stop. Without thinking, and at a loss himself, he cleared his throat. He stared blankly for a moment, unsure why he'd spoken at all. "Didn't meant to yell at you," he said gruffly. "Sorry."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't take her eyes off of him as they gently escorted her out, and Han felt like he was still staring at her even after it was only himself, and Leia, alone in the apartment.

Her hands were gentle on his shoulders as she reached up to placate him, nudging him back and applying pressure until he sat - collapsed - down on the sofa the Corellians had just vacated. Leia watched him blink, rapidly, even shaking his head a little as if he had water in his ears, and she let her palms linger on his shoulders - not only because he needed her touch, but because touching him was steadying her. She was as shaken to the core as he was, but better able to hide it; better trained. The only way she could see to cope with the magnitude of the situation was to - take charge.

To act in control of it, even if her heart was racing, and her mind was reeling.

Even in her certainty, she had clung to a small, hazy hope that when he heard the alleged mother's name, he'd shrug and say he'd never heard of her. Instead, the blood had drained from his face - and from that moment on, Leia had to ferociously abandon everything she had known about their relationship, and every normal thing she had started to expect, or dream of.

Her life hadn't been anything close to normal since she was nineteen; why had she expected it to start now?

She did not necessarily register that abandonment as damning or heartbreaking, it just changed things. And that change - she was as of yet unable to fathom. And so she -

"Take a few deep breaths, Han," she murmured. She squeezed his shoulders. "I'll - you need a drink," she decided. "Whiskey? Kaf?" she offered.

Han ran his knuckles over his mouth and did not look up at her. She nodded firmly to herself and took her own deep breath, letting her hands slip off of him. She brushed his hair back, stepped away, and quietly turned to go to the kitchen and fix something for both of them. He likely needed a moment on his own, and she could give him that, while she was close by in the next room.

She fumbled with everything in the kitchen - trays, mugs, the kaffe maker, the stopper in a bottle of dark amber whiskey. She brewed black kaffe and filled a decanter with it, then selected a tumbler from a cabinet and went to portion out a shot of whiskey in it. Distracted, and unnerved, she poured it nearly to the brim, spilling drops when she realized with a start it was too full. She pushed the bottle away, raised the glass, and wiped the sides with her hand, licking her thumb to clean it off. Hesitating, she eyed the glass, and then took a deep breath. She swallowed half of it, leaving the rest of the shot for Han, and set it on the tray, remaining still for a moment.

She stared at the glass of whiskey, her lips a thin, tense line, taut against the burn it had left on her tongue, and in her throat, and just at the edges of her eyes - but was it the whiskey, or tears? She tapped her finger on the counter, giving herself some quiet time. For a brief interlude, she hesitantly sought to analyze her feelings, and found they were too overwhelming. Was she angry? No, she wasn't -

She realized abruptly that regardless of what other complexities she felt, anger wasn't one of them - or rather, not anger at Han. She was angry that a child was hurting. She was angry that adults had put a child in an uncomfortable and scary situation. But - she was not angry at Han. What she felt for Han was - that was complex, too, for now, but the crux of it was love; an hour or so of chaos and a daunting revelation had hardly erased the depth of her feelings for him.

Clinging to that, she breathed out steadily, and picked up the tray, thinking about how much she loved him. Thinking, starkly, about the moment when she'd told him who her natural father was, and he'd been silent for so long it scared her, until he shrugged and asked - Well what do you want me to do, Leia? Freak out? You can't help that. Kriff, I love you so much, Sweetheart.

She carried the tray back to him, and placed it on a table in the middle of the sitting room. Still hunched over, still pressing his knuckle into his mouth, he barely glanced up at her. She could almost see the knots of stress in his muscles. She gathered the material of her dress in her hand, bunching it up loosely, and sat down on the sofa next to him, crossing her legs gingerly. She leaned forward to slide her arm around his shoulders, squeezing firmly.

She was a little surprised, in a relieved sort of way, when he immediately reached up to take her hand. She had no idea what the best thing to say to him was, so she tried to start lightly.

"I've never seen you so close to fainting," she murmured, trying to catch his eye with a small smile. She had been worried for a moment that she might have to try to catch him, and that wouldn't have ended well.

Han made a strangled noise, and released her hand to rub his face. He leaned forward and reached for the kaffe decanter, but when she noticed his hands were shaking, she took it from him, and sat forward to pour the two mugs full.

She lifted the whiskey glass, and handed it to him silently, nodding. Han stared at it grimly, and then closed his eyes, breathed it in, and downed it in one brave gulp. He pressed his lips together hard, staring at the empty glass, and leaned forward to set it aside.

He cleared his throat, wringing his hands and staring down at them.

"I'm…sorry, Leia," he said gruffly.

Leia raised her eyebrows a little. Whatever she had been expecting – she was positive she hadn't been expecting an apology.

She was silent as she turned back to him to hand him the kaffe she'd poured, pushing it into his hands firmly. She lifted her eyes up and gave him a look before taking her cup of kaffe and facing him more squarely.

"You haven't done anything to me," she said calmly – honestly.

There was no doubt that this had been a – grave shock, to say the least, but Han hadn't done anything deliberately to her, or tried to sabotage their relationship. It just so happened that his – past came back to bite him.

Han grimaced. He shied away from Leia's serenity, his chest tight, and raging. He blinked hard a few times, holding the hot mug lamely in one hand, thinking of the girl with her head tucked down, sobbing.

"I made that kid cry," Han said hoarsely.

Leia scraped her teeth across her lips stiffly, her eyes narrowing.

"Child Services should not have brought her with them," Leia said, edgily – of course, it would have been a shock even if was only the two Corellians, but that they'd brought the child in question – with them? To have her witness Han's disorientation?

Leia sighed.

"She was sittin' right there, and I asked for a damn blood test."

"Han, I don't think she was crying because you asked for a genetic test," she interrupted, wincing. "I highly doubt she understands what that means."

"Kids aren't stupid, Leia."

"I'm not saying she's stupid," Leia said sharply. "But her mother is dead and she was apparently just dragged here from Corellia with strangers and they thought they'd just drop her off in another stranger's lap."

"Stranger," snarled Han bitterly. "Nice word. Great. Stranger. 'Cause that's what I am, right? Even though they're saying she's mine." He shook his head, nettled – infuriated by his own incompetence and ignorance, and the maelstrom of chaos this was going to mean if it was – if it was –

Leia took a sip of her kaf and rested the mug on her knee, taking a deep breath. She stared down at the dark liquid, and then looked at his profile, studying him quietly.

"Han, it's reasonable to ask for a genetic test," she began quietly, "but that little girl looks like you."

Han held a wrist to his forehead, swallowing hard. He nodded, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his mug.

"Yeah, I saw," he muttered. He'd recognized it. At first – at first he thought he'd just recognized her because she looked like Visenya, but there was something deeper to it. Something more primal. He'd looked in mirrors before; seeing that girl hadn't been quite like looking into a mirror – but he'd seen a reflection anyway.

Leia, compartmentalizing the storm in her own head, reached for his hand, fighting to take it. She brought it to her lips and kissed it, her mouth lingering against his wrist.

Han lunged forward, setting his kaffe aside and abandoning it. He drew his hand away and leaned forward on his arms, his elbows digging into his knees. Shaking his head, he sat back stiffly, rubbed his knuckles against his chest, and grit his teeth.

"I didn't know, Leia," he said. "I swear – I swear, I didn't know," he muttered, strained.

He seemed earnest to convince her he wasn't that vile of a person, and never had been – and he didn't need to; she knew. Even if she hadn't known him at all, the look of pure – shock, agonized shock – he'd given the agents from Child Services said it all.

Han clenched his fist, pushing it hard against his chest. If he kept pressing, he might be able to stop the horrible feeling he had – he struggled, feeling like his whole life was crashing down on him, feeling like he was on the verge of losing everything he had with Leia, and had so desperately wanted – and then guilt, too, raged in his blood, because he felt such detachment from the kid.

What kind of man was he if he found out something like this, and all he cared about was how it would affect his love life? But – Leia mattered to him, so much, and when he was suddenly blinded by the fear that he'd lose her over something as ground shaking as this, it was hard to see anything else.

He heard a soft clink, as Leia set her mug aside, too. She rested her hands on his arm, running her palms over him.

"I know you didn't, Han," she said quietly. "That much is written all over your face."

She lifted one hand and pressed it gently to his cheek, her knuckles grazing his jaw. He twitched his head away nervously, reaching up to rub his jaw, and cut a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She saw his expression darken, and he stiffened, bristling.

"Don't – don't look at me like that, Leia," he said harshly.

She let her hand fall to her lap, but stayed close.

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like," he repeated, fumbling. "I don't," he broke off again, frustrated. He ran his hands over his face, gritting his teeth, trying to find a way to explain what he was feeling. She was so soft, and sweet, and her expression was so open and calming, her voice devoid of judgment and it bothered him.

He felt tarnished. He'd never cared much for reputation, but he didn't want Leia to think he was that kind of scum. He really hadn't known, and she said she believed him, but he was so stricken with the fear of losing her good opinion.

Leia drew her hands along the material of her skirt, alternately wrinkling it and smoothing it.

"I'm not sitting here thinking you abandoned her, Han," she said quietly, instinctively understanding his turmoil. "You didn't know she was there."

Han tensed, leaning back hard against the sofa. He flung a hand out, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Yeah, but you're all sorry for me and doe-eyed, and thinkin' I'd have stepped up if I had, and I wasn't so great back then, Leia!" He burst out angrily. "I mean hell, Visenya didn't even try to tell me – least I don't think she did - probably didn't bother because she figured I'd blow her off," he raged, bringing his hand back to his temple and rubbing it. " and I, I might have," he faltered, his voice strained.

He balled his hand up, and bit his knuckles, tilting his head back and letting his hand fall down to his lap heavily.

Leia was quiet for a while, giving him a moment to calm down. She realized that this was bringing up a lot of long buried issues for Han – perhaps issues with his own father. He was faced with being told that he'd – done the same thing; he'd been uninvolved in his child's life, seemingly uncaring.

She leaned back and propped her elbow on the sofa, resting her temple on her palm and looking at him intently.

"The fact remains that you didn't know," she said calmly, "and because of that, I have the luxury of believing if you had, you would have done right."

She breathed in slowly, biting her lip and staring at him until he turned his head. His expression sour, he gave her a hollow, challenging look.

"I wasn't a good guy," he protested. "I wasn't – "

Leia flicked her hand at him dismissively.

"Stop it, Han," she ordered. "You've been reckless, careless, criminal, mean, selfish," she listed. "Things we've all been. But you've never been fundamentally bad. Bad men don't get Corellian bloodstripes," she noted sharply. "Bad men don't get expelled from the Academy for saving slaves."

His eyes flashed with misery, wary, struggling. He swallowed hard, grappling with insecurity.

"None of that means I'd have stuck around, or – " he started.

"Han."

"I'd probably have wanted her to get rid of it," he said harshly.

"For Sith's sake, Han, wanting an abortion is hardly a cardinal sin," Leia said coolly. "Particularly when an accident happens."

Han quieted, staring up at the ceiling.

"How did this happen?" he asked hoarsely, closing his eyes tightly.

His jaw tightened, and a muscle in his temple throbbed. He bit back a quiet groan of defeat, frustration. Leia reached out to hesitantly touch his hand, and he curled his fingers around hers, looser this time. He shook his head, swallowing hard.

"They just showed up here, ambushed you?" he asked dully, opening his eyes.

Leia stroked his palm lightly.

"It seems they were unable to verify an address for you," she murmured. "Their efforts led them to me. The Falcon's hangar does not count as a permanent address, it seems."

She smiled wryly, but Han did not seem amused in the slightest. He shifted uncomfortably, still staring at the ceiling.

"You're gettin' dragged into some mess of mine," he muttered, thinking of Ord Mantell. "Again."

Leia sighed.

"There's no point in thinking of it like that," she said flatly. "You're reeling, Han. I know you're reeling."

He nodded.

Hesitantly, Leia ventured:

"Are you…well-versed in Corellian laws that pertain to this?" she asked. "They mentioned honor codes."

Han shrugged roughly.

"Yeah, it's…Corellia's traditional, family oriented," he mumbled. "S'pretty much what they said, the natural parent is compelled to take the kid, 'less he or she's found grossly unfit."

He paused after the recitation, and then bristled again, sitting up a little.

"They said they've had her in a damn home for – two, three years? Some dirty, rotten hellhole like where I grew up," he said tensely, his voice rising. "How'd that happen? I haven't been dead!" he waved his hand around.

"No," Leia said, "but you have been…difficult to pin down," she said slowly. "And I wonder if…there's some provision that kept them from seeking you, while you had death marks and arrest warrants."

Han grit his teeth.

"So they just dump her for a while, until it looks like I got it real nice and posh, and then drag 'er here and drop her off?"

His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. He looked over at her.

"She might not be mine," he said.

Leia lifted one shoulder, a resigned expression on her face – she supposed there was always that chance, but she had her gut feelings, and Vada Vardalos had her Han-like eyes and her Solo looks, and Han had a history with the mother that matched up to the right timeline.

He studied the look on her face, and turned his head away, his shoulders sagging. He leaned forward slowly, reaching up to rub his jaw.

"Just like that, huh?" he muttered tensely. He rubbed his hands together, and snapped his finger bitterly. "What the fuck am I s'pose to do, Sweetheart?" he asked her, desperation stitched into his tone. "I woke up this mornin' and I didn't have a kid and what, now I just," he rubbed his palm hard on his knee, "now I just do?"

He stared blankly at his hand for a moment, and then reached mechanically for his kaffe mug. Leia watched him pick it up gingerly, take a slow, thoughtful drink. His jaw twitched, still tense and hard, and he still tucked his shoulders in as if he might be able to hide from all this.

She stared at his profile, studying him. There were a thousand things going through her mind. Possible solutions, possible problems that would arise – there were a seemingly infinite amount of things she needed to consider, he needed to consider – but there was a more pressing issue at hand. What stuck out to her most clearly was the need to remove Vada Vardalos from the care of people who seemed not to care about her at all, beyond what they were legally required to do.

"Han," she whispered, reaching out and touching his shoulder. She squeezed it, and shook him a little, breaking into his nearly catatonic reverie. "Han," Leia said, repeating his name again as she tried to draw him out of the funk he was in. "We need to go pick her up."

She sat forward, squaring her shoulders, and moved to the edge of the couch, taking his kaffe mug and gently setting it aside. She clasped his hands in hers tightly.

"There are things we can discuss later. We need to act. Vada has been in an orphanage for almost three years. She shouldn't spend another night with strangers," she pressed - she was unsure what the right thing to do in this situation was, but some part of her – deep down, some buried part of her that inexplicably remembered what it was to be orphaned – some part of her knew that they best thing they could do, even if they didn't at all know what to do, was offer a safe place for Vada, and pretend to be in control.

The illusion of it meant more than anything, right now.

Han looked up from his knees and gave her a bewildered look, his brow furrowing darkly.

"We're strangers," he muttered. He pointed at himself, his finger turned sharply inward, accusing, and tense. "I'm a stranger, Leia," he reiterated – that word again, coming back to haunt him.

Father was a foreign, irrelevant word to him. It made no sense – it was peripherally bitter, because he'd never known one of his own, and bitter because Leia's own terrible contention with the dichotomy of her fathers haunted her daily.

"I know," she placated softly.

Han just looked at her, almost blankly. She squeezed his hand, got up, and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head, smoothing her hand through his hair as she did so. She let her hand slide off, to his shoulder, and squeezed again, this time tensing her wrist to show him she was steady, and giving her leverage to make him stand up, and start to move – because she knew better than anyone that sometimes, in order to cope with an unfathomable shock, all you needed was someone else to drag you forward.

Han had dragged her off of Hoth when she had been in her darkest hours, and thought she might decide to let the Empire end it for her right there, and she would drag him forward now. She had already decided she was in with him for the long haul and this – this would not take him away from her.

Leia's Corellian was not conversational, it was technical - intended to get her through politics and formalities, and not much else. She didn't know the nuances of the language, and she'd never been able to harden her tone enough for the proper accent, but it served her well enough for her purpose now. She was grateful for that, considering Han's middling ability to function at the moment. She felt no irritation at his bewilderment and his reluctance to speak; rather, she was comfortable taking charge, and exercising her skills to the best of her ability to navigate through certain security checks at the Corellian Embassy, and eventually gain them access to the suite where Vada Vardalos was staying with her female handler.

The representatives were clearly on edge, and were at least somewhat relieved to see her, as it indicated there might be some resolution. Leia refused an offer to have the meeting moved to a conference room at the Embassy. She preferred the informality and intrusion she and Han had just been subjected to - and this was one of the rare moments in her life when she took full advantage of her aristocratic status and her position of power in the galaxy.

Sitting around a boring, stock furniture kaffe table in a mid-level hotel room, Han watched her direct the situation. Leia wasn't arrogant, and she wasn't obsessed with herself, but on the occasions that called for her to exercise her family name, her title, or her wealth, she could be as cold and intimidating as she needed to be. This, it seemed, was one of those times.

"I do, ahm, apologize for the handling of the situation, Your Highness," began the woman, who had identified herself as Efema Zune.

"Sincere apologies are always appreciated, Ms. Zune, but yours is a formality," Leia said flatly - Han noticed she did not tell Zune to drop the 'Your Highness', and these days, Leia almost always wanted it dropped. "You achieved your objective, and you're proud of it. We'll move on, shall we?"

The man, Callum Kant, gave Leia a small, rueful smile of admiration, and cleared his throat.

"There was little else we could have done, without Solo having a permanent address," he said, nodding at Han.

Han gave him a cold, dark look.

"Well, those tend to draw bounty hunters," he retorted sarcastically.

Leia reached out and rested a hand on his forearm lightly. Zune winced, before speaking again.

"That's been precisely the issue - prior to the end of the Galactic Civil War, your situation was untenable for a child," she explained, turning to Han. "You were on intergalactic warrant lists and wanted by crime syndicates, and that precluded our ability to seek you out and place Vada with you."

Han stared back at her, tight-lipped.

"After the victory," Kant added, "when your name was cleared and the New Republic legitimized, we were able to more accurately track your whereabouts, and cautiously determine that you were now in a position to be given responsibility of Vada."

Han still said nothing.

"This is policy on your planet?" Leia asked. "Automatic custody to a surviving parent?"

"Yes, to put it simply," Zune said. "Corellia values blood above all else. In any situation, great care is taken to place a child with the natural mother or father. In this case, specifically, as you can see," Zune pushed forward a datapad, tapping on it to show two documents side by side. "Visenya Vardalos modified her daughter's birth certificate about two years ago, to reflect a father. This is interpreted as her desiring that Vada be placed with you, General Solo."

Leia leaned forward to look, tilting her head. Her eyes flicked over the document, noting the birth date, the place of birth - noting that the line for father had been blank, until 3 ABY. She also noticed -

"Solo?" Han asked gruffly, sitting back tensely. "Her second name is Solo?"

"Has been since birth," Kant said.

Vada Solo Vardalos, Leia thought. It had a very musical ring to it, almost enough to make her forget how closely the name rang to the villain in her own life.

Han folded his arms, shaking Leia's hand off of him gently. He stared at the datapad, his brow knit.

"She didn't try to contact me," he muttered. "Ever."

"We do not know anything about that," Zune cautioned him. "I have been Vada's case worker since her mother died, and we determined you were not in a position to take her. So - "

"So you threw her in a home?" Han asked bitterly. "Visenya didn't have a damn friend or somethin'?"

Zune hesitated. Leia's heart ached - Han had endured so much when he was growing up in and out of various orphanages and homes on Corellia's streets, before he'd run away for good.

"She was monitored to ensure there was no abuse," Zune said. "We had every intention of introducing the two of you when and if your...illicit activities slowed."

The look on Han's face was somewhere between murderous, and chastened; angry, and helpless.

"Visenya's mother refused to take her," Kant offered grimly. "She was fined, but it made no difference."

Han grit his teeth.

"She always said her mother was an old bitch," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Pursing her lips, Leia looked between Zune and Kant sharply.

"She was fined?" she asked. That was an unfamiliar concept to her - she felt a pang of sympathy for the little girl, to be rejected by her own family, and filed away some anger at the people who had let her be placed in a home instead, but she still sought an understanding of how all of this had come to a head in her Coruscant living room.

"Corellia is very strict on this subject," Zune explained. "Blood relatives who refuse responsibility for a child of their clan are not looked upon kindly. Fines are imposed," she paused, glancing at Han, and Han gave her a bold look, before turning tensely to Leia. He bared his teeth, struggling with his words -

"They can arrest me," he told her dully. "If I don't take her."

Leia blinked, startled.

"Corellia forces parenthood on the unwilling?" she asked, baffled.

"Only once the child is born," Zune interjected hastily. "It's a facet of the honor laws."

"It cannot possibly be healthy to force a child into a home that isn't willing to bear the responsibility," Leia said, incredulous. Coming from the sort of familial background she did, she was appalled at the idea of blood relatives being favored over a willing, adoptive family - just for the sake of biology.

"Well, in many cases, the demand that a person take up the mantle ultimately makes them a better person, and a better citizen in the eyes of Corellia - "

Leia cut off Kant's explanation with a sharp look.

"A shallow and flawed philosophy that should be addressed by your political representatives, not us," she decided. She turned and looked at Han, who had leaned forward and was rubbing his jaw, staring at the datapad again. "I understand the general basis of the laws that put Han in this position," she said, "though it can't make poor Vada feel very safe knowing that she's being entrusted to someone because if he doesn't take her, he's subject to arrest."

Leia grit her teeth - this whole thing had to be worse for the child. She could barely fathom what it was like for Han, but she was confident it was worse for Vada. She herself was shaken to the core, and it was not her child, her life - but then again, yes it was. Han was a part of her life, and she had no plans to go running. The only thing she could even begin to liken it to is a situation in which she had accidentally gotten pregnant - she'd expect Han to stay, even if he was scared and unprepared. She'd do the same - this was only a mutation of that, really. Wasn't it?

"He's not automatically subject to arrest," Zune said calmly. "There will be an evaluation period during which we determine if you," she gestured at Han, "are a fit parent. If you're found unfit, there's no requirement to care for her. If you're found fit, but refuse to take her, then the arrest may come in."

Han blinked, staring at Zunne blankly. Leia swallowed hard, starting to speak, until he blurted -

"Why're you talkin' about her like she's a pet?" he demanded. "Refuse to take her? You say she's my kid, you think I'm gonna let you put her back in a home?" he asked angrily.

Leia breathed out slowly, and Han glanced at her warily. She bit her lower lip, hoping he didn't interpret it as her being disappointed he wanted to step up - she expected no less from him. She already had that faith in him, despite his earlier protests - just this evening! - that he might be a slacker. Leia reached over to run her hand over Han's back irrespective of the company. She supposed the initial shock was starting to wear off, and some of his instincts were coming out - both instincts he didn't know he had, and his usual response to a crisis situation, which was to wing it, and look strong, even if he had no clue what he was doing.

The asteroid field came to mind, and she smiled a little.

"Where is she now?" Han asked tensely. He sat up straighter and looked around. "She's stayin' here, with you?" he demanded.

"Yes," Zune said. "She's in her bedroom, down the hall. So she can't overhear - "

"Nonsense," Leia interrupted coolly. "She's listening around the corner." Han gave her a surprised look, and Leia shrugged. "She's a little girl. They listen at doors. I spied on my parents relentlessly."

Zune and Kant looked at each other, hesitating. Han at back, frowning.

"Look, just get somethin' straight, okay? I'm not refusin' her," he said, spitting the word out sourly. "I just didn't know about her."

"You would still like a genetic test, I assume?" Kant asked.

Han shrugged, and gave a jerky, half-hearted nod of his head. He did - because he figured there was always a chance this was a mistake, but he had already started to assume that wasn't the case. If a woman had shown up, child in tow, threatening to sue him for support, that might have made him wary, but everything from Visenya never naming him as a father until it became necessary to the timeline to Vada's dark eyes told him this was a reality now. And thinking back, from what he remembered of her, Visenya just wasn't the type to lie.

Kant stood up, business like, and pulled a testing kit from his briefcase. He held a scanning device the size of a commlink out to Han, indicating the small needle encapsulation system, and Han took it, eyeing it warily for a moment. He glanced at Leia, then pricked his finger, and handed it back. Lifting the finger to his mouth, he sucked off the excess blood, watching narrowly. Leia sat back and glanced behind her, looking curiously around the hotel room. She peered into the dark hallway while Kant used his system to compare diagnostics - DNA tests were painfully simple these days; they wouldn't be in suspense for long.

She thought she saw movement in the shadows, but she couldn't be sure. Still, she was positive Vada would have snuck out of her room to eavesdrop. This was her life in the balance - and Leia hoped she was listening. She hoped that, at the very least, Han's insistence that he was going to take her made her feel a little safer, even if it was framed in this horrid narrative of manipulated responsibility instead of chosen.

Kant cleared his throat and provided the screen of his scanning device for Han to view. Leia turned back to glance at it - positive genetic match, down to a millionth of a percent. Han stared at it for a long time, and then finally leaned back. After a moment, he turned his head, and he stared at Leia. His lips turned down in a defeated grimace. She read the apology in his eyes, again, and gave him a brave, defiant front in return, as if to tell him - this is a child. I can handle a child. It's the least of what I've been through.

Han's thoughts took a different direction, though - one more akin to: after all she's been through, I have to put her through this?

Swallowing hard, Han turned back to look at them.

"How'd she die?" he asked. "Visenya."

Zune cleared her throat.

"Consumption," she answered.

Han grimaced. No coming back from that one, that much was for sure. It was a miracle it hadn't taken Vada, too.

"So," he began heavily. "What do I do?"

"Well," Zune began. "We will begin a program of evaluation of your situation - finances, daily activities, the people around you, your home. During that period, you will have visitation with Vada that encourages the forming of a bond, which will be super - "

Leia leaned forward, her lips pursed.

"Excuse me - and where will Vada live during all of this?"

"Here," Zune said mildly. "Or in a boarding house run by the embassy."

Han blinked, taken aback, and Leia shook her head.

"No, I don't think so," she said calmly. "If I am right in assuming she's never been away from Coronet City, then interplanetary travel has been traumatic enough. I can tell you right now that you won't find Han unfit for custody," she said bluntly, "and it seems unnecessarily damaging to bounce her around anymore. Vada will return home with Han tonight."

Zune and Kant hesitated, glancing at each other.

"That's - not entirely out of the question, but it is...somewhat against protocol," Kant began slowly. "I - but - again, according to our records, there's no - do you have a home, General?" he asked Han uncertainly.

"Yes," Leia answered for him, without batting an eyelid. "There's no need to pretend ignorance of the rumors, Callum. Han and I live together," she said.

Han flicked a glance at her, tilting his head just a little. They had never officially established that, despite how often he spent the night. He raised his brows a little, but kept his mouth shut.

"You may take that to the press if you feel the need to confirm it, but I doubt anyone will correct you."

Han set his jaw, unsure if he wanted to laugh or not. He was struggling with a lot of irrational emotion at the moment.

"Vada will be safe with us," Leia said firmly.

"Um," Kant said unhelpfully.

"Your - Highness, there is usually at least a home visit prior to, ah, allowing cohabitation during the evaluation - "

Leia's eyebrows went up deliberately.

"And what exactly was your unannounced adventure into my living room if not a home visit?" she asked in a thin voice. "Did the penthouse appear deficient to you in some way? Or is it my character you question?"

Han bit the inside of his cheek - and this time, it was to hold back a smirk. Her tone veered into regal, and she cut her eyes and lifted her head in the way he'd so grown to admire - the way that commanded respect, and infused every words she uttered with the power and prestige of a House Organa's thousands of years.

Leia held up a hand and placed it to her chest pointedly.

"I vouch for Han's character and Han's place in our home. I would consider it objective fact, rather than arrogance, to point out that as two veterans of a war that took down an oppressive dictatorship, we are exemplary individuals to whom you can entrust a child's well-being."

Han folded his arms for good measure. Kant turned to Zune and gave her a look, evidently deciding then and there he had no interest in butting heads with an Organa princess, and Zune folded quickly, compressing her lips and nodding her head. She tucked her hair back, and folded her hands together stiffly, lifting her chin.

"Yes, well," she began. She cleared her throat. "Take care of her," she advised.

Han gave a derisive, aggressive snort, and Leia jumped, startled. She looked over at him, and he was giving Zune a hard, unforgiving look. He shook his head, his shoulders stiff as he leaned back against the sofa.

"Save it," he snapped dully. "You're her case worker. S'not the same as giving a damn."

Leia heard a whole history of neglect in his words, and bit the inside of her lip sadly.

"I am not a bad person, General Solo," Zune said, straightening up.

Han said nothing. He just stared at her. The silence went on, too long, and it was Kant who stood, rubbing his jaw and stepping aside.

"No point in wasting time, is there?" he asked grimly. "Vada?" he called.

She appeared half a second later, stopped, and then seemed to consider backing up, and waiting longer to appear. She closed one eye briefly, frowning as she realized she'd made it obvious she was listening right outside the room, and then tucked her hands behind her back and bowed her head, waiting. Leia gave her a wry smile - eavesdropping came naturally; she'd learn subterfuge later on.

Kant tilted his head, and switched to Corellian.

"Vada, come here," he said, waving his hand encouragingly.

She gave him a wary, dark look, but came forward, still silent as she'd been in Leia's living room. One of her cheeks was sucked in just a little, and Leia guessed she was biting it to keep herself stoic, or to distract herself - or both. She really was a gorgeous girl. It was strange to see Han's dark, impish eyes peering out of that little face framed with all the curly hair. Strangely, something in Leia itched to get her hands on that hair - to comb it, style it, braid it.

"You're going to go home with your father tonight," Kant said, still in Corellian.

Leia understood the words, and saw Han start a little at them. Father. It was as jolting a word for him as to her, almost. He couldn't fathom it applied to him, and Leia could barely stand to hear it anymore, given the dark truths it reminded her of.

"I'd introduce him, but I think he's pretty famous," Kant added, trying to lighten the mood.

Vada turned her head up, and looked at him as if he were the dumbest person she had ever encountered in her young life. Leia had to stifle a laugh at the look, as Vada tilted her head back down and stared straight across the room at Han. Han wrung his hands in his lap, clearly at a loss. He stared back at her, and just when Leia was wracking her brains for a way to step in, he spoke.

"Does she - uh, do you," he corrected, addressing Vada, "speak Basic?"

Leia widened her eyes a little - for some reason, she hadn't considered that was possible. She had assumed Vada was not speaking out of fear, or anger, but to consider that she might not speak -

"She speaks - " Zune began.

"Da," Vada said in quiet Corellian, interrupting Zune without hesitation. "I speak Basic," she added.

Her accent was heavier than Han's, lilting, and pronounced, but she seemed confident in her answer.

Han nodded. He paused, and then seemed to lose confidence, and looked up at the Corellians.

"She got stuff to take? I got to sign somethin'?" he asked gruffly.

"Why don't you go get your bag?" Kant asked, patting Vada's shoulder.

She turned on her heel and ran off to grab it - eagerly, Leia noted. Han stood up, and Leia stood with him, observing and listening sharply as Zune and Kant facilitated minimal signing of some paperwork to document Han's assumption of responsibility. Leia double checked some of the wording, and arranged for Vada's entire file to be forwarded to Han. She herself had no rights to it, but Han was likely to share it with her, and it might give them some better insights. Han folded his arms, and rubbed his jaw, waiting for Vada to return - which she did, a moment later, with only a knapsack.

He just gave the bag a grim look. He hadn't expected her to have many possessions, but it was still a difficult sight to contend with - a difficult plight he himself remembered. He felt like he had when he'd flown Leia from Yavin to their second hidden base, and she hadn't brought a single thing on board with her - because she hadn't had a thing of her own, after the Death Star.

He stepped forward, and without thinking too much, gently took the bag from her and slung it over his own shoulder. He gave her a nod, and it seemed like he and Vada stared at each other for a long time, an unfathomable amount of time, sizing each other up. Leia was gathering some things, taking in last bits of information, saying goodbyes - and the next thing Han knew, they were in the elevator, and then Vada was trailing along with them to the parking docks, and his heart started to race because - there was no going back from this. He was about to get into a speeder with a little girl in tow, and he'd just seen a DNA test that said she was his, and signed papers that said...she was...his.

He felt Leia's thoughtful eyes on him, and was sure he'd never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He could feel himself walking funny, though he desperately tried to play it as if this were utterly normal - treat it like a space battle, Solo, you know exactly what you're doing.

Next to him, Leia's hand brushed against his, subtle and comforting. He looked down at her, and she gave him a small, firm nod, both of them stopping next to the speeder. Han swallowed hard, staring back at Leia uncertainly, and Leia took his wrist, squeezing gently, and tilting her head pointedly - talk to her. Han cleared his throat gruffly. He turned, didn't see Vada, panicked, and pivoted again. She had come to a stop close to Leia, her head at Leia's elbow. She sidled a little closer to Leia without actually touching her - she seemed to think Leia was cozier to be around.

That amused Han, a little, for a brief second - mostly because no one thought Leia was cozy to be around, except himself and Luke. But he figured, she'd met Leia first, and Leia was a woman, so that made sense.

"Uh," Han began. "This is our speeder," he said awkwardly. "You can get in," he said. "We're going to take you home."

Vada didn't say anything to him. She glanced at Leia sideways, and Leia wondered if she was clinging to her because Leia had shown such awareness of her in the first place - greeting her, offering her food or drink, guessing that she was listening in.

"Our apartment, where you were earlier," Leia said kindly. "You're going to stay there. With me," she looked up at Han, "and Han."

Vada nodded. She stepped forward, and then she hesitated, and looked at Han. She took a deep breath.

"I knew you were my father," she said boldly. "My mom told me."

Han looked at her nervously. It was more than she'd said at all so far, and the words rang in his ears. Leia touched his arm encouragingly.

"Really?" Han asked. "She didn't tell me you were my father," he said, and then blinked, when Vada looked confused. "Me, I was - your. Uh," he blinked again, tongue-tied. "I didn't know," he finished lamely.

"I know," Vada said, in the same brave, calm voice. "She said you did not know. I saw you on the wanted Holos. I told other kids it was you. No one believed me."

"Huh," Han said, staring at her.

Her words were so precise and careful, spoken like someone who did not have a native grasp of a language and was afraid a mistake would make a bad impression. Vada tucked her head a little, licking her lips.

"You're very tall, as a real person," she said, blushing. "I mean...not on the Holos."

Han shifted.

"Yeah," he said, completely out of his element. He held out his hand conversationally. "You're short," he informed her. "That's okay. So's Leia," he added, jerking his thumb at Leia.

And Leia - he felt Leia staring at him incredulously.

Vada hopped from one foot to the other. She gave him a funny look, and then turned and scrambled into the speeder as if she thought they might change their minds. Han winced, and Leia inched up to him, staring at him in disbelief. She had never - in her life - seen Han so - had she? Even in his flirtations with her, he'd been smooth, collected - loud and obnoxious sometimes, but never - she had no idea what she'd just witnessed.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed. "Where's that Solo charm?"

Han scratched his chin, his eyes wide. He shrugged, helpless, his mouth dry, and Leia shook her head, nudging him in the thigh with her fist.

"Get in the speeder!" she ordered, sliding her hand stealthily into his pocket and snatching the igniters from him. If he was barely capable of sane conversation she was not about to let him fly with a seven-year-old in the back.

Han ran a hand through his hair and nodded sheepishly, accepting both the shaming and the loss of his flying privileges. He slid into the front bench and Leia got in next to him. He turned slightly, eyeing Vada as she sat tucked into the corner, hugging her knapsack in her lap. He glanced around in the darkness of the evening, and then back at her, and said, gruffly -

"Put your crash webbing on."

Leia turned as if she might chastise him for his awkward interaction again, but paused, her hands on the controls. It did seem like an awkward, incongruous comment, but then, it wasn't. It was a normal thing a parent would tell a child - put your webbing on; stay safe. Her words died on her lips, and she stared at Han, both of them wide-eyed. Telling Vada to put her crash webbing on seemed - it seemed as good a place as any to start, at least for now.

For the second time in one day, and in her life, Vada found herself ushered into a fancy apartment in the middle of a lush and elite sector of Coruscant. She assumed the apartment was fancy because it was, objectively, fancier than anything she'd seen in her life, and she assumed this was a very nice part of Coruscant because she didn't think a real, flesh-and-blood princess would live anywhere dodgy. The penthouse was not heavily decorated, nor did it look very lived in, but Vada decided that added to the overall posh nature; rich people, really rich people, didn't need to advertise their wealth. It was just - implicit. At least, that's what she thought, based on books. She had only ever encountered really rich people a few times in her life, and none of the experiences had been positive.

So far, she tentatively thought this one was okay. Princess Leia seemed nice, if a little scary. Han Solo - my father, Vada thought - was right; she was short, but it did not seem to make her less imposing. Vada kind of liked that. Han was tall, so looking up at him, Vada had some small hopes that she might be that tall, but if she wasn't, it wouldn't be so bad if she could be as commanding as the princess -

Chewing on the inside of her lip, she tried not to get ahead of herself. She was relieved that the two of them had come to get her. She was uncomfortable with the social services representatives; they were perfunctory and awkward, and when they'd removed her from the home she'd been startled to find that she missed the other children, even the bigger, meaner ones, and the benign neglect that had mostly been practiced.

Social services hovered and coddled, but in way that was so insincere it made her more uncomfortable than the distracted, mediocre caretakers in the home ever had. She had gotten used to life without her mother while she was in the home, but she had sharply missed her in these intervening days that led up to her being presented to the princess, and her father, without so much as a note, or a little warning.

She couldn't start thinking in terms of permanent, that was a mistake, a huge mistake. She already knew there would be an evaluation period, and she'd tried not to be excited to meet him - but how could she not be? He was the Han Solo, and now it was confirmed that he was her father, and not a wistful story her mother had made up. Her mother wasn't always great with the truth, and for the most part, Vada had believed Visenya when she said Han was her father because, well, she wanted to. Even more so after her mother's death - who didn't want to believe that their father was an adventurous, heroic, rebel who helped defeat Darth Vader?

And of course she knew who Princess Leia was, too. She was just as famous - more so, even. Vada just hadn't known that they were married. At least - she assumed they were married. They lived together, and the social services goons had taken her to Princess Leia when they couldn't quite find Han. In her mind, that indicated marriage. She decided immediately that she liked that idea - it was romantic, like a storybook; they had defeated all the bad guys together and now she was going to live with them -

Frowning at herself, Vada clutched her knapsack tighter, shaking her head. No, she wasn't allowed to think like that, not yet. Han was scared of her and the princess was too hard to read, even though she'd been nice, and spoken directly to Vada, even when there were adults in the room. Still, she had to be cautious. The last time they had told her she was going to be taken in by family, the Vardalos clan had refused to take her - had even decided to pay a large fine, rather than care for her.

She bit her cheek, hard. Princess Leia definitely seemed like someone who could afford to pay a fine if Vada's father didn't want her.

But - them coming to get her right away was a good thing. It had to be. Her father - the thought was still a little weird, but she knew she had a father, and besides, she'd been told it was Han years ago - didn't seem angry at her, just angry that he didn't know. Actually, he seemed frightened - and Vada was frightened, too.

She wished she hadn't cried, earlier. She couldn't help it, but she wished she hadn't. She'd wanted to look stronger, and more - exciting.

"Vada?"

She looked around at the sound of her name. Standing in the entrance to the living room, she realized she'd been staring at the armchair she'd sat in earlier, and maybe hadn't heard anyone say her name. She blushed, an anxious feeling gripping her.

"Yes?" she asked, making an effort to speak Basic, as that's what Princess Leia seemed to be best at speaking. "I am sorry, I did not hear you call my name," she said quickly. "I was not ignoring," she added.

Leia folded her arms, her lips pursing worriedly.

"I only said your name once," she assured her. She spoke in kind, confident tones that were warm, but cautious. "Am I saying it correctly, by the way?" she asked, gesturing at Han. "I noticed Han says it a bit differently."

There wasn't much difference, but Leia was practiced in detecting small shifts in tone - a necessary diplomatic trick. Han said Vada with an odd inflection on the first syllable - almost like 'Vay-eh-d-ah'- pronounced very quickly.

Vada nodded earnestly.

"Your saying it is right, it is," she said, furrowing her brow as she tried to keep up her running translation, Corellian-to-Basic, in her head. It wasn't that she didn't speak Basic, it was just...there was no reason to on Corellia, at least not often enough to be perfectly fluent. She was self-conscious about her accent; Han barely had one at all. "He says, um, like he does, because he is Corellian," she said, turning to face them both bravely.

Han stood with his arms folded across himself tightly, watching her like a hawk.

"In other languages, it is, harder, I think, the sound is harder," she tried to explain. "Like Darth Vader."

She noticed Princess Leia flinched a little, and she felt awful.

"The nickname is Viddy," she said anxiously. "You can say it, like that way," she said, stumbling over her Basic.

Leia turned and looked at Han, and he shrugged a little tensely, shaking his head.

"Don't call 'er that until you've known her a while," he muttered. "It'd be like...callin' her darling, or something', it's familiar."

Vada shifted her weight.

"But it is okay," she protested worriedly. "It is okay for her to say it like that if she doesn't like my name."

Leia's eyes widened, and she shook her head.

"I do not dislike your name," she said immediately. "I want to say it right, that's all. And it's not, it isn't," she frowned to herself, and it was the first time Vada had heard her tongue-tied. "It is not like Vader's name," she corrected under her breath. She sighed. "I'm sorry if I made you think I disliked it, Vada," she said firmly, putting a hand on her chest. "Darth Vader...scares me," she admitted grimly.

"Oh," Vada said softly. "Well, he scares everyone," she said seriously. "At least he's dead. And probably in hell," she said, finding that she was suddenly unable to stop talking - she was scared she'd upset the princess, and she was afraid if the princess didn't like her, she'd get sent back - it certainly seemed like Leia was in charge around here. "We have nine hells, on Corellia," she babbled, "he's probably, in ninth, I think, in the worst," she stammered.

She blinked, and ducked her head, wincing at herself.

Han laughed dryly.

"Luke's gonna love her," he drawled, a little sarcastic. She was probably already in Leia's good graces, damning Vader to the furthest depths of hell like that.

Leia turned and looked at him curtly, shaking her head. She turned back, folding her own arms across her chest.

"I was wondering if you were hungry," she asked lightly. "When was the last time you ate?"

Vada looked up warily, slowly accepting that the awkwardness was over - well, maybe awkwardness was not the right word. It was awkward, but she didn't feel uncomfortable, not like she had with social services. This was just new, and odd - maybe it wasn't as bad because she knew so much of these people, in the sense that they were public figures, that she was more fascinated by them than she was scared or suspicious.

"The keepers fed me," she answered.

"Did you like what they fed you?" Han asked unexpectedly. He was skeptical of that outright. Food was scarce in the homes, that was for sure, but he didn't trust some stiff-upper-lip government agents to care what Vada liked to eat, if they even bothered to ask.

Leia turned to him, a little surprised. Considering his reticence in talking to Vada, and his wariness of the whole situation, it wasn't a question she thought he would come up with. It was...very caring. Of course, Leia was more than aware of Han's propensity to be caring, she just knew he was struggling with comprehending all of this right now. He was on the verge of shutting down, so the moment of intuitiveness was heartening.

"It was fine," Vada answered, smiling a little. She tucked her knapsack a little closer to her chin, staring at Leia with wide eyes. She couldn't really imagine a princess cooking - much less for her. Her own mother hadn't even cooked for her. "You do not, um, need to cook for me," she said.

Han laughed again. Leia wondered if it was a coping mechanism.

"She can't cook for you," he said seriously. Then he cleared his throat, sobering, and his brow furrowing. "I can, though. I, uh...I can cook."

Leia rolled her eyes a little, grappling for something to say next. Her brow furrowed.

"Is Basic comfortable for you?" she asked. "Would you prefer Han speak to you in Corellian?"

Vada shot a sideways glance at him, and decided he looked petrified of that idea. He probably didn't know what to say to her. She didn't mind that so much...she wasn't sure what to say to him either. It wasn't as if fathers came with instruction manuals, after all. She'd probably have to teach him how to act, just like sometimes she'd have to teach her mother how to act.

"No, Ma'am," she said politely. "Or...Your Highness," she added, eyeing Leia. "Or...My Lady? I can speak Basic, it is just sometimes, not the right order, or way," she explained. "It is bad."

Leia smiled at her, stepping forward. She took a knee - and she was at Vada's height, and she hesitated a moment before speaking.

"You can call me Leia," she said again. Vada was sure she'd said that before, but she wanted to be positive. It still felt odd to call someone like her by her first name - that was so intimate and familiar.

"Your Basic is not bad," Leia said firmly. "Speaking more than one language is hard. Believe me, I know."

"Oh, yeah," Vada blurted. "I know...you speak a lot. You, and my...dad," she said, trailing off. She blushed nervously. "I know...who you are," she said sheepishly. "From Holos and...things. I know you are important. People talk about you a lot."

Leia nodded.

"Well, for now, try to forget that," she suggested, a little warily. Vada peered past her to stare at Han, and Leia took a deep breath. "We are going to try to make sure that no matter what, those people don't talk about you. At home we're just," she shrugged, gestured to herself, and then behind her. "Han and Leia."

Vada nodded. It still felt so strange! And the Luke Han had mentioned earlier - that had to be Luke Skywalker, right? The real, living Luke Skywalker? Her eyes widened a little at the thought, and she bit her lip, trying not to betray herself. What did they mean - making sure people didn't talk about her? Was she going to be on the Holos - oh, that was an intimidating thought. The Holos could be vicious. Vada remembered some commentators calling Princess Leia a hag once, and she certainly wasn't a hag, as far as Vada could tell.

Leia hesitated, at a loss.

"Well, would you...like to have a 'fresher, or a bath? I have things you can use," she said, very business like. "Or if you want to watch a program on the Holo...?"

Vada looked at her for a long time - she wasn't so interested in a 'fresher, not yet. The idea made her feel vulnerable, and she was used to being a little dirty. She was...tired, and overwhelmed. She was smart enough to sense that they were, too. Maybe not tired, but definitely overwhelmed. Her dad was still standing stiff as a board and saying weird things - but she didn't blame him for that, he'd had a shock. She'd had a shock when her mother died and everything she'd known was turned upside down and she had to learn how to deal with it.

She smiled at Han as warmly as she could, hoping that helped. He blinked, startled, and then smiled back at her - a little cautious, half smile.

"I, um, am a little...tired," Vada said, taking a deep breath. "I think I will be okay if...I go to bed, and we all...take a nap on it. Um, sleep on it," she corrected, snapping. "That is right...?"

Leia arched her brows.

"Yes, that's the right idiom," she murmured, taken aback with the foresight - and impressed.

Vada swallowed hard.

"I can just go to sleep," she confided. She held up her knapsack a little. "I have...some extra clothes, and my Loth-Cat," she added.

Leia assumed the Loth-cat was the stuffed toy Vada had been clutching earlier. She nodded, considering the astute statement, and stood up, neatly smoothing out her dress.

"Well, I'll," she began; suddenly realizing they didn't really have a place to put Vada. She had a couple of spare rooms, of course, but none were furnished well. Each had beds, of course, but they were dreary. "I'll get you a room ready," she finished lamely, deciding to go drag some things around and make one of the rooms seem more lived in. Vada seemed smart - she had to know they were in no way prepared for her, yet Leia felt the effort would matter. She knew of at least one blanket she could take off her bed to make Vada's seem homier.

With that, Leia gave a determined nod, turned, gave Han a pointed look, and left to go do just as she'd said, leaving Han and Vada alone together in the living area - the first time, Han realized, that they had been left alone together at all. He felt panic rising in his chest, and tried to squash it. She was just a child; there was nothing to be afraid of from a - a - seven-year-old child who belonged to him, whose only family was him, apparently, and who he was now in charge of - !

Han's mouth felt dry. He suddenly felt incapable of taking care of himself, much less a human being who was not entirely self-sufficient.

"So, uh," Han began, louder than he meant to. He swallowed uncomfortably. "What's your Loth-cat's name?"

That was something you asked kids, right? The names of their toys? Or was she too old for that? He blinked a few times, unsure of himself. Vada arched her brows hesitantly, trying to decide if she wanted to be witty, or meek in her response - what would the Han Solo like better? She decided she didn't want to scare him.

"His name is Spork," she said. "He is the only thing no one really stole from me in the home because he was already missing an eye," she explained.

She dropped her bag, and took Spork out, presenting him to Han.

"See? He is grimy."

Han smiled a little tightly.

"Did Visen - " he started, and then trailed off. Should he avoid mentioning Visenya? He hesitated, and Vada lowered her arms, hugging the stuffed animal closer.

She nodded carefully.

"Mom gave him to me," she answered.

"And that, uh," Han jerked his head at the knapsack. "That's...all you got? All your stuff?"

Vada nodded.

"I had more," she told him. "I had stuff, like, um, lots of stuff, before," she waved her hand a little, "before Mom died."

Han drummed his fingers into his arm, dipping his head. That was good, he figured - good she hadn't been dirt poor and destitute her whole life. He could have a little, only a little, less guilt, if he knew that until she'd died Visenya had been doing fine. She'd been disowned, he knew that, but that was before he met her, and Visenya had her mysterious ways of coming up with money - just like Han had, back then.

"I can get you more stuff," he blurted. He didn't think much about it before he said it, and after he said it, he realized it sounded materialistic and absurd. It sounded like bribery. It was the truth; without even factoring Leia in, he was capable of buying things for Vada. He had his own income through the New Republic now, and it was steady, and decent. It just probably wasn't -

"That is okay," Vada said, very softly. "I don't...need stuff."

She was quiet for a moment, clutching the Loth-cat under her arm. She shifted her weight, kicking her foot against the knapsack, and swayed back and forth a little.

"My mom didn't tell me...right away," she said finally, biting her lip. "About you. I thought...she said she bought me, from fairies," Vada explained.

Han smirked a little.

"Until she got so sick," Vada confessed. She fell silent again. "I think...maybe, she was thinking the fairy story would make it seem like she wanted me more," she told him. Vada knew, well enough, that she had not been a planned child; that much she deduced from her mother's flaky parenting, which flared in cycles of intense attention, and benign disinterest. She had also deduced it from reading and watching things on the Holo and deciding that she just wasn't in the same sort of home as some people.

But her mother had never been unkind or abusive. Just...capricious.

"Hey, I didn't not want you," Han said hastily. "I didn't know about you," he told her quickly - he hadn't known. He wanted that to be so clear - and like he'd told Leia; he had no clue what he'd have done seven years ago if Visenya had told him about this. He still assumed he'd have hit the road, or maybe tried to scrape together a bunch of credits to send her once a month, if he could afford it with the death marks and the debts he owed, but he definitely hadn't known about her and rejected her. Not outright.

"Yeah," Vada answered, rolling her eyes a little. "That is what I am trying to say to you," she said. She hesitated, and then sighed. "So you stop being so twitchy," she offered lightly.

Han's mouth dropped open a little.

"I am not...mad at you," Vada said.

He stared at her - twitchy? Was he acting - ? Leia seemed to think he was. The only thing he could come up with to say in response to that was -

"Oh. Thanks."

He winced at himself. Vada smiled. Han cleared his throat again.

"Are you...afraid of Wookiees?" he asked abruptly.

It had just occurred to him that Chewbacca - Sith, Chewbacca was going to go bald when he heard. He was going to lose his mind, either amused, or in shock - or both - and he remembered Visenya.

Vada tilted her head.

"I am seven, um, Mr...Solo," she said. "Not two."

Han blinked.

"Yeah. So, no," he muttered. He was silent for a little while. "I don't think you should call me Mr. Solo," he said finally.

"Okay," she agreed.

Neither of them addressed what she should call him, though she wanted to ask. Dad did feel...strange. Yet she didn't want to call her own father by his first name. It felt too isolating.

"I'm, uh," he started. "Sorry 'bout your mom," he said.

Vada lifted her shoulders.

"It was not your fault," she said quietly.

Han raised his eyebrows. He figured that was true, but her response was so...mature. She shuffled her feet again, and tilted her head, mustering up the courage to ask him if he and the princess were really -

"Vada, are you afraid of the dark?" Leia asked, coming back into the room with a worried look on her face. "The spare room is pretty dark. I can leave the door open, and a hall light on," she began to trail off, as Vada was shaking her head.

"The dark does not scare me," she said, and then pursed her lips. "But wasps do. And snails." She shivered.

Leia smiled.

"I do not like wasps either," she said, reaching out kindly to Vada. "You'll be glad to know there aren't any in this apartment," she added, beckoning.

Vada swept up her knapsack and put it over one shoulder, tucking her Loth-cat tighter under her arm. She took a few steps towards Leia, then stopped, and looked at Han uncertainly. She lifted her hand, waved a little, then blushed, and turned, skipping closer to Leia nervously. She sidled a little closer, and then looked up, waiting to be escorted to her room. Leia smiled at her in what she hoped was a comforting way, and spared a glance back at Han. He was still standing there as if someone had glued him to the spot, but he looked at least marginally less petrified. She wondered what they had talked about while she was busying herself fixing the room - which she purposefully took a bit longer than necessary to do, in the hopes it got Han to stop acting so stunted and awkward.

She was sure she'd never seen him so completely out of sorts and beside himself. Even when he had been courting her - courting in his very Han-like, aggressive, hysterically emotional way - he hadn't been that awkward. Over-confident, and over-dramatic, for sure - but charming, rather than clumsy. This behavior was just...wildly out of character.

But then, the situation was - disconcerting, to put it lightly.

Leia led Vada down a hall, pausing before the master bedroom.

"This is my," she said, pointing, and then pausing. "Ahh, our," she corrected, flushing a little, "bedroom."

She didn't know why she felt bashful, suddenly, telling a child that she shared a bed with a man, and she was amused at herself when she realized it made her feel scandalized. Vestiges, she supposed, of some of the more conservative royal norms she'd grown up with - after all, they weren't married, regardless of what Vada had so politely called her. That didn't bother her, and neither did referring to the bedroom as their bedroom, but she and Han hadn't technically decided they were living together. She was wary of asking him to move in explicitly, because she didn't want him to feel obligated, and she knew he was wary of making assumptions - which was stupid, she knew they were both being stupid, so at the very least, this whole Vada thing would likely mean they had to discuss it in the open.

Which would be nice. She wanted Han to stay here. On the nights he was gone, or didn't sleep over, she missed him so much it hurt, even though he was just a hangar away. Though she supposed it was selfish and misguided to view Vada's situation as a benefit for her relationship.

Leia cleared her throat softly.

"If something is wrong or you need either of us, just come in," she told her.

Vada nodded, and Leia drew her down the hall to another room, walking her in.

"You'll sleep in here," she said. "It's plain, but we'll make it more...you in the next," Leia took a deep breath, "couple of weeks," she murmured, finding it daunting to talk in the long term.

This was not, after all, just some odd occurrence that would be over with tomorrow, or the next day, or even in a week. Han would be responsible for Vada until she was of age, and since Leia had no intention of walking away from him over this - unless he for some inexplicable reason wanted her to - she was a part of that, too.

Vada, staring at the room with wide eyes, just nodded.

"It's so big," she whispered, looking around.

"Yeah, and you ain't gotta share it with a bunch of snoring punks," Han said from behind them.

Leia stepped aside to look at him, and Vada nodded again at his words.

"'Fresher and sani are right across the hall," Leia said. "You're - quite sure you don't need anything?" she asked formally, cringing a little at herself.

Vada shook her head. She turned around, backing towards the bed, and nodded at them earnestly.

"I am okay," she said softly. "I will sleep. I will, um," she said. "See you...tomorrow."

Leia shared an amused look with Han - it appeared they were being dismissed. She guessed Vada was emotionally, as well as physically, exhausted, and wanted some time to think, to assess her new situation. That was only natural; she and Han needed the same thing. Tomorrow would hardly be tame, either; they had things to arrange with social services, and plans to make, and -

She stopped her thoughts there, taking a deep breath. She nodded, and turned to leave, taking Han's sleeve and tugging him out as she went. She left the door open, so Vada could decide if she wanted it closed, and Vada watched them leave, staring around her quarters in awe. A few moments later, when she heard them whispering in the hall, she snuck forward, and peeked around the door, watching as they stood briefly outside their room, and then Han went in, followed by Leia - and a tiny sliver of light told Vada she had left the door cracked, just in case.

Vada inched backwards, grabbing Spork the Loth-cat and holding him up to her face. She gave him a solemn look, her eyebrows raised - staying in the same bedroom meant they were definitely married, she thought, nodding her head - and she wondered if the Holos knew about it, or if it was a secret she was now in on. She tucked Spork under her chin and hugged him, scampering over to the huge bed and hauling herself up on it with her knapsack. She dug a datapad out of it, and fumbled with the cracked screen and a stylus, waking it up hurriedly. She opened her note taking application, and began to write -

Dear Mom...

It felt as if there were one hundred things they should be doing now. It felt as if they should be scrambling - and they were, emotionally, both of them grappling with their own internal chaos. The urgency and bewilderment and anxiety they felt was not necessarily matched by the stark reality of the situation: there was everything to do, but at this exact moment, there was nothing left to be done.

Vada had been given a room, and she was content to try and sleep. Han was still all but concussed from the overwhelming shock, and Leia - she was functioning, but she felt frozen. Functioning, because that was what she did: she functioned well in a crisis, but the litany of things her mind thrust at her in terms of management and planning was abstract - too long term and evolving to address now, in her bedroom. Thus, the frozen feeling - she was well aware of all the many things they should be doing, but for the time being they were confronted with a late night purgatory, an eerie, in-between reality halfway between what their lives had been like this morning, and whatever the hell it was going to be from tomorrow morning onward.

Han sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, removing his boots with an unnecessary level of concentration. Giving him a moment, Leia slipped into the 'fresher to remove her jewelry and loosen the days' intricate braids. Wordlessly, as she soothed and calmed her own runaway thoughts, she meticulously washed her face, brushed her teeth, and shed her clothing in favor of something more comfortable to sleep in - a short, slip nightgown, as she felt it might be inappropriate to sleep naked in case something happened with Vada and they needed to scramble to react. Pondering how logically and calmly that thought occurred to her, she went to their door to crack it open a little more, just to reinforce the directive she'd given Vada to come get them if something was wrong.

It was as if objectively, she knew what boxes to check when it came to children. She just hadn't grounded herself to the utter reality of - this living, breathing, little girl, and her place - a place that would have to be permanent - in Han's life. Her mental gymnastics, though substantial, were nothing compared to Han's, who she assumed was bombarded with all the possible implications this had for their relationship - just as she was - while also coping with his deeply personal issues related to finding out he had a daughter, and considering himself to have abandoned her, however inadvertent it was.

At the door, she turned to look at him, and found he'd gotten as far as his boots. He'd kicked them aside, and swung his legs up on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with his knees drawn up close to him, and his arms draped loosely over them. He stared at his hands, his brow furrowed, and his jaw tight with concentration. He was so clearly submerged in intense thought - or intense dissociation from the evening's revelations - that she chose not to try to talk to him yet.

Instead, she returned to the 'fresher, took her hairbrush, and brought it with her to bed, beginning to brush out her hair diligently. She sat down next to him, comfortable just being with him, and worked through the knots until they were smooth. Then, she tossed the brush aside gently and began to loosely weave her hair into the simple plait she slept in to keep it relatively tame.

Idly, she wondered if Vada had a similar process, and frowned slightly at herself for not offering some pins or an elastic tie. Vada's hair was curly, and more roughly textured than Leia's - in fact, it was quite like one of Leia's childhood playmate's hair. She'd need a good conditioner, and a comb -

"You think she's really just gonna...go to sleep?" Han grunted, lifting his head.

He looked at the cracked open door warily.

Leia lifted her shoulders, glancing over, and then back at him, her fingers moving deftly in her hair.

"Perhaps she'll rob us," she murmured.

Han gave her a startled look, and she clicked her tongue.

"I'm teasing, Han," she said softly.

He shook his head a little, curling his hands into loose fists.

"Yeah, you're teasin'," he retorted. "Thing is, at her age, I prob'ly woulda robbed you."

Leia smirked.

"She doesn't seem to have thievery in her," she said. "You stole because you ran away from the home," she pointed out. "Vada stayed put." Leia hesitated. "She doesn't seem to have been destitute prior to her mother's death," she added cautiously.

Han shrugged, shook his head.

"No," he muttered. "Wouldn't think so," he grunted. Visenya had always had money - she had been charming, beautiful, and unafraid to work. It was saving or investing money that had been her vice. He looked back at the door, shaking his head, his brow furrowing darkly. "How can she just go to sleep?" he asked edgily.

"What should she do?" Leia asked quietly. She asked because she wasn't sure, either - but since there was no template for human behavior, especially in situations that left them wary, scrambling, and uncertain, she supposed what Vada, and what they, were doing now was not necessarily normal, or abnormal. It just...was.

Han let his head fall back behind him heavily.

"Kriff, I dunno," he grunted under his breath.

His hands hung over his knees limply, but the muscles throughout his upper arms were taut.

"Children are resilient," Leia said, reciting something she'd often heard said around her when she was young. "It's likely she measures everything against her mother's death, and is able to face things based on a metric of it not being as bad as that," she guessed.

Han looked over at her, watching her hands weave at the final few strands.

"Is that what you do?" he asked.

Leia shrugged.

"Sometimes," she murmured. She swallowed hard. "I wouldn't say it's the most charming way of getting through, but it works. Sometimes," she said again.

Han watched her silently. She cleared her throat softly and slipped the thin elastic off her wrist, twisting it in her fingers to tie off her hair.

"Do you know what I did when they put me back in my cell, after Alderaan?" she asked quietly.

Han tilted his head, listening. Leia took a deep breath.

"I fell asleep," she said.

The elastic snapped as she gave it a last twist, tightening it in place. She tossed the long plait over her shoulder and smoothed her hand over her scalp, her fingers trembling slightly. She nodded to herself, as if to confirm it, as if she still couldn't believe it.

"I was asleep when Luke broke in."

Han was quiet for a while.

"You never told me that," he said.

Leia nodded. She shrugged and then shifted, stretching out on her side. She ran her palm over the blankets underneath her, plucking at them lightly.

"I used to think it was insensitive," she whispered. "I - how could I just fall asleep like that?" she asked. "After paying first hand witness to the genocide of my own people?" She shook her head. "Now I think...it had to be self-preservation. Or numbness. Or...something," she murmured. "Something like where we're at now. There's - what else is there to do? So I fell asleep. And then...I had to keep living."

She rested her head on her arm, staring at his hip.

"And I felt nothing when I slept. It was unconscious respite."

"But you have nightmares," Han said warily.

"I didn't, at first," Leia corrected. "The brunt of the trauma didn't set in for a little while. I slept like the dead, for the first few weeks, when half the time I wished I were dead. It was as if my body knew it had to rest up just to...live through what was coming."

Her brow furrowed.

"My nightmares were at their worst on Hoth," she added slowly. "I think because...I was feeling so much for you," she murmured. "I was feeling everything else, too."

"Great," Han muttered dryly, rubbing his forehead. The thought made him feel guilty.

"No," she chastised simply. "I needed it. I need you."

She pursed her lips, shifting her head a little.

"You don't think she's cryin' in there, do you?" Han asked tersely. "She was cryin' earlier."

Leia thought about it before she answered. She rubbed her nose.

"I don't think so," she decided firmly. "She seems...relieved to be with you. Ahh, to be here," she analyzed. "I get a strong sense she was wary of those social workers."

"Smart kid," Han muttered bluntly. "Can't trust those types."

Leia didn't say anything. She was sure Han's bitterness was born of experience, and in that regard, she had no comparative experiences of her own, so she deferred to him.

For what it was worth, she did think Vada seemed smart; incredibly smart. She wondered, if any, how much formal schooling she'd been able to have, before or after her mother died. And what her mother - what her mother had been like. That was a pressing interest of Leia's; suddenly, it was burning, and with the assumption that there was no hope for sleep to take them right away, she mulled over asking Han about her. She wasn't at all sure how he would take it, and yet, she knew that in the coming days - it was not a topic that could be altogether avoided, and she -

She decided she would rather face it boldly, than in surreptitious conversation. She would rather let Han know, in subtle, accepting ways, that she was not hostile towards the idea of his past with another woman, and she would not be punishing him for it. In fact, she needed him to know that Vada's mother - for her, at least - was not an off-limits topic.

How Han felt about her was another story entirely -

She lifted her head, raising her arm and propping her chin up on her palm.

"Can I ask you about her mother?" she ventured quietly.

She held her breath for a moment, curious as to how he'd react.

Han gave a jerky nod. He had nothing to hide; and even if he had, there'd be no point in hiding it now, since living proof that he'd had a life before Leia was asleep in her spare bedroom. He figured conversations about Visenya – with Leia – would happen regardless; why not now, while they both couldn't sleep anyway?

Han waited for a specific question, then shrugged a little, speaking before she could get one out –

"She had violet eyes."

Leia pursed her lips, thinking on that. So, his mind went to aesthetics – she wasn't sure what her reaction to that was, but she was eager to let him guide, since she'd prompted the conversation.

"Natural?" Leia murmured. "Or artificial?"

"Natural, I think," Han answered gruffly. "If they weren't, she never took the contacts out around me."

"She was pretty?" Leia asked, neutral.

Han gave an odd sort of tilt of his head.

"Most women are," he answered bluntly – and for Leia, the sweet thing about Han was, he entirely believed that, when he said it, and there were few men who'd be so generous about the female population at large.

"Was there more to her than her violet eyes and pretty face?" she probed.

At that, Han stiffened – if it were possible for him to get any more tense. He turned and looked at her warily.

"You want to hear about this?" he asked dryly.

Leia nodded simply – why not? The woman's child was in Han's hands now, and by default, also in Leia's hands, and they couldn't go forward without ever speaking her name or referencing her again; it would be too cruel to Vada. So, Leia needed to be informed – and it was certainly not as if Visenya Vardalos was any threat to Leia now.

"I expect you'll have to talk about her to Vada," Leia noted gently.

Han made a grim face and looked back at the canopy for a moment.

"No, she doesn't need to hear it, not 'bout us. She's a kid."

"Bad relationship?" Leia asked softly.

Han shrugged, reflecting on Visenya for a moment.

"Not bad, just wasn't a wholesome fairytale type thing," he said dryly – he knew what kind of tame, pure stories were for children, and he knew what kind weren't – hell, his childhood was not a story for children, and neither, frankly, was the rest of his life, even the decent parts. "Drinkin', gamblin', that stuff," he muttered.

He looked at Leia sharply.

"Doesn't hearin' about her bother you?" he asked edgily.

Leia sighed.

"Actually, at the risk of sounding puritanical, it would probably bother me more if you didn't remember her," she said honestly.

Han looked at her idly for a moment, and then turned his head away. He snorted softly.

"I remember all the women I've slept with," he muttered.

Leia smiled a little tightly, but said nothing. He closed his eyes heavily and shrugged, finally sinking down, turning onto his side, and mirroring her pose. His jaw was tight when he opened his eyes again, thinking carefully.

"Were you in love with her?" Leia ventured, eyes bright, and intent. She tried to keep the question buried, but she couldn't, for some reason – she just couldn't. And she wasn't sure why. She had never considered Han's past involvements to in anyway diminish what they had.

Han gave one of those jerky shrugs again.

"Yeah, in a way," he said gruffly, his expression darkening, "in what I thought love was, back then, I guess."

Leia's brow furrowed, lips pursed. Han reached up and rubbed his forehead tensely.

"I, y'know, loved 'er when I was around her, but when I moved on from Corellia, when it fizzled – it didn't break my heart," he said flatly. He frowned, perhaps at himself, perhaps at the memory, then gave her a small, wary smile, and shrugged. "I probably threw the words around a little."

"What's different?" Leia asked quietly.

He arched his brows at her and grunted, waiting for clarification.

"It sounds like … the Han who knew Visenya would have said he loved her. The Han next to me doesn't think so."

Leia's eyes fixed on him thoughtfully, without judgment. They were full of curiosity, and if there was any insecurity or jealousy there, she hid it well, and he couldn't read it in her words or her body language.

He sighed, trying to find the right words. He wasn't even sure he knew the right words. He'd once had a bad habit of thinking he was in love all the time, probably a byproduct of not having enough emotional connection when he was younger. Then he'd met Leia and everything else faded into dull flickers, compared to what he felt for her.

"I left 'er and I didn't really think about her much after that," he decided finally, a little edgily, if only because he thought he sounded careless, and he never liked confessing his faults or the blacker parts of his nature to Leia. "I dunno. I was still fucked up about Bria, back then," he admitted. "I wasn't serious about any women. I still didn't trust 'em," he added grudgingly.

He hesitated a moment, and then looked at her pointedly.

"Couple years later, I run across you, Sweetheart," he said, "and I couldn't leave you even when I was tryin' to." He swallowed hard. "You could run off on me tomorrow and I'd think about you every damn second for the rest of my life."

He grit his teeth at the emotional effort – surely Leia understood that … he may have been in love before, he may have loved other women before, but he'd never understood the emotion; he'd never committed to it to the point of utter and complete selflessness.

Leia smiled at him shakily, her face flushing pink. She looked down at the blankets, twisting her fingers lightly in some wrinkles. He closed his eyes and laid his head down, shaking it back and forth.

"Visenya didn't even try to tell me," he growled, more at himself than at his ex-lover. "She had damn good reason, back then – kriff, Leia," he started again, his voice bitter. "Who knows what Vada thinks of me – "

"It's going to be okay, Han," Leia interrupted, tilting her head. She leaned over him and ran her hand down to his shoulder, squeezing soothingly. "You don't know her reasons for keeping it a secret. You aren't the same man you were then, anyway."

Han looked like he was about to protest again, and she sighed.

"You were never a scumbag, Han," she reiterated. "You can pretend you were all you want. Maybe you tried to be. But I didn't make you into a good man," she told him firmly. "You were one. You are one."

She reached over and touched his jaw, coaxing him to look at her.

"We can handle this," she assured him. She felt like if she said it to him, confidently, she'd believe it, too – and it was important to remember, in the grand scheme of all the things she'd faced in her life, a little girl was far from a nightmare scenario.

Leia had lived nightmare scenarios before. She'd happily raise ten of Han's baseborn daughters if that were the only hurdle life threw at her from here on out.

"You shouldn't have to," he muttered, knocking her hand away as he rubbed his jaw.

Leia traced her finger down his shoulder to his chest, drawing small circles, falling into silence. She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from responding, because she had no idea how the hell to navigate this, either, and she wasn't sure what to say. Clearly, it wasn't only that Vada had thrown Han into a position he had not anticipated and wasn't ready for, she had raised some seriously loaded questions that Leia and Han themselves hadn't thought they'd need to tackle right away.

The uncertainty about their living situation highlighted that.

She bit her lip, and stayed silent. She suddenly felt insecure about making any grand declarations, if only because she wasn't sure he wanted them. In a split second, their relationship seemed so new it was terrifying; despite the unconventional ways they'd come to know each other so intimately before their romance was ever anything at all.

She turned her head and rubbed an eye tiredly. She got up, sweeping her hairbrush off the bed and plucking the hair out of it as she went to place it back in the 'fresher.

"Han," she said, standing at the sink. She looked at him pensively, her hand hovering over the button for the light. "I love you."

Han lifted his head and looked up at her. She met his eyes, staring back for a good, long minute, before she turned the light off and came forward to pull the covers back. She tugged at them pointedly, until Han took the cue, got up, and started to strip off his clothes.

"No," Leia murmured, when he showed signs of getting back into bed in briefs alone. "Sweats, at least," she said, tilting her head at the door. "In case she comes in."

Han paused, nodding. He went to grab a pair of light sweatpants, and then came out of the closet looking dumbfounded.

"Uh," he started. "Should we even sleep in the same bed?" he asked.

Leia raised her eyebrows. Han reached up and rubbed the back of his head.

"'Cause we're not married," he started, trailing off dryly.

Leia rolled her eyes.

"She saw us come in here together," she reminded him, suddenly reminded of her own momentary shyness at the idea. "Han, get into bed," she ordered.

"Yeah. Okay," Han agreed sheepishly.

He obeyed, crawling under the covers with her. He sat up against the headboard a little, and as she leaned towards him, and he recoiled. Incredulous, Leia stared at him, somewhat offended. Han himself was a little taken aback at his own action.

"Did you just recoil from me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Han looked scandalized.

"You're not gonna try to have sex with me with a kid in the next room, are you?" he asked.

"I was going to give you a kiss," Leia retorted.

Han relaxed.

"Oh," he said. "Well -" He leaned in towards her.

She shook her head, laying down and rolling over primly.

"No. The kiss is cancelled," she mumbled into the pillow, clutching the covers close. "Try to have sex with you," she quoted indignantly. "Like I'd have to try that hard. You're easy," she muttered.

Han looked down at her; aware the offense she had taken was gentle, and teasing. He let his head fall back against her headboard, smiling a little. Leia shifted around snuggling in and getting comfortable, and he watched her, restless.

"Leia," he asked softly. "You think she listened to us talk in here? Like she did at the hotel?"

Leia cocked her head a little, and then rolled over to face him, inching closer. She shook her head.

"I doubt it," she answered solemnly. "If I were her, I'd have been too scared of what I might overhear."

Han frowned, mulling that over. Leia was right – hell, he'd probably have felt the same way, if he'd been really young, and handed over to a family he said was going to adopt him. This wasn't quite that same situation, though – she was his flesh and blood, she belonged to him, and that was –

Astounding.

He swallowed hard, and watched Leia as she lay next to him. Her eyes were closed lightly, but she was far from sleeping. He breathed out heavily and rubbed his eyes, finally lying down next to her. He slid his arms around her and she tucked her head under his chin like she so often did, like nothing at all was odd about this night.

His eyes drifted to the side, to the cracked open door and the dull light in the hall that Leia had left on for Vada. He couldn't imagine going to sleep, but he did find he was tired. Leia curled closer, her head shifting against his chest every few seconds ago. So, they were both lying awake.

And maybe, more than anything, what they needed tonight was to lie awake next to each other, restless, and silently, individually, try to process the magnitude of what had just happened in a mere handful of hours.

This was, after all, the last night of life as they'd come to know it since the end of the war, and with a lost, wary ache in his chest, he wondered if they'd have done anything differently, if they had known it was coming.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

"Hotcakes"

Leia was dreaming; she knew she was dreaming. It was far from a bad dream, but therein lie the bitterness of even her good dreams - she knew they weren't real. And so, as she sat around the cozy table in the palace's private dining quarters, sharing spicy mulled wine and smoked roast with her parents, she was weighed down with the knowledge that she would wake up to a reality in which they were dead, taken before their time, and along with her people and her innocence, in an unnatural event that was still almost incomprehensible. Gone was the hazy, curious uncertainty that often infiltrated dreams, leaving the dreamer wondering - did that happen, could it be happening? - instead, she looked upon her parents faces with dread of waking up, knowing the truth all along.

They were having a discussion, the three of them, as they often did when they were all together in Aldera, and duties had been attended to, and they were free to retire into privacy for the evening. But the conversation was different than usual, Leia sensed that - and when she looked down, she saw herself not in her usual Alderaanian garb, but in the militaristic, form-fitting styles she'd worn during the war. Her parents had never known her like this.

"Father,"she started, confused - her voice had the ethereal, detached quality of something subconscious, as if she were thinking this conversation, not hearing it - dreaming.

"I am only trying to make you think critically, Leia," he said lightly, gesturing at her with a silver goblet. "Is this what you want? Loyalty is an unparalleled character trait, but leaping head first into a situation like this - "

"Bail, she asked you for advice, not a sermon."

Breha spoke in her usual gentle, unassuming way, and Leia turned her head back and forth between them, her brow furrowing in consternation. She experienced the scene, and yet watched it, too, somehow aware of her dream, and aware of herself fast asleep in bed, Han sprawled out somewhere next to her.

"Is what what I want?" She asked them, frowning, feeling silly.

"A child that isn't yours," her father answered, and Leia sat back heavily, her shoulders rigid - oh. She frowned more deeply, her thoughts racing - how could they be talking about Han? Her parents didn't know Han. Her face flushed, and she stared at her father, at a loss.

"I'm not yours," she said, surprising herself. She had always considered herself theirs, and they had felt the same. She turned to her mother, an apology on her lips, but Breha smiled gently, glancing at Bail. The Viceroy leaned forward sternly, setting his goblet down, his palm hovering over it.

"Well, we wanted to adopt you. We had wanted a child for years. This has just been thrust upon you - and 'this' is no easy thing."

Leia chewed the inside of her lip irritably. Why was he telling her this? She knew that. She wasn't stupid. Uncertainty spun in her stomach, and she folded her arms across herself sternly, her lip jutting out the way it used to when she argued with him as a child. Was this about Han? Was it because it was Han.

"You just fought a war," her father pointed out sternly. "Is this what you want to do now? Don't you think you ought to take a break?"

Leia pursed her lips.

"I want Han," she retorted, and it sounded oddly childish as it echoed around the room. It also felt nice to vocalize such a simple desire - such a simple truth. She wanted one single thing after all of the destruction, and that was him, and nothing else mattered -

"Of course, I understand that. And this is nothing against Han, we think he's a fine man," Bail remarked.

Leia stared at him, eyebrows raised. She look at her mother, and Breha nodded serenely - and Leia realized she was having some sort of proxy conversation with herself, with her doubts, and the fears that had risen with the explosive revelation regarding Han's - reproductive past. Her father had always challenged her, been the devil's advocate, her mother had always been a supporter, a kind voice - and here they were, providing a pseudo-council for her while she slept -

"Don't you think he's been irresponsible?" Bail asked sharply. He scoffed.

Leia fell silent, shaking her head. She didn't know that she didview it that way. She just felt blindsided. There were emotions she wasn't addressing because they didn't make sense, and it was too soon to confront them, and she couldn't remember what she had asked her father that had started this conversation, anyway -

"She can still have her own children with him, Bail," Breha remarked blithely. "This doesn't prevent that."

Leia panicked, sitting forward at the table.

"I don't want - that's not - Mother, please,"she protested, strained. Her face flushed again, and she shook her head. "I just don't want to lose Han," she pleaded with them.

"Then you're a mother now," Bail said dismissively. "You're rather young for it, I think."

"But - she has a mother. I don't have to be her mother." Leia argued. "I want to be there for Han."

"It isn't that simple anymore,"Bail said bluntly."You think you can have this man, and have no affection for his child? You have toestablish a role for yourself. You aren't a sister to her. If you won't be a mother, then you'll beirrelevant - you can't take attention away from her. This will fall apart."

Leia stood angrily, glaring at him. She shook her head.

"It will not!"she yelped. "I need time to figure this out, I need...I don't know, but Han is - you don't just let a man like Han go!"

"No one is saying you should, darling, but things have changed,"her mother said gently. "You were supposed to have time to heal, to breathe, to be a woman, alone with him."

Leia threw her hand out at her father, flustered at the implication. Did her mother think she had planned some sort of - sexual marathon, in the after-war period? She was rebuilding a democracy, for Sith's sake!

"Don't say that in front of Father!" she protested.

"I'm being honest with you. Things are never going to be the same, and - well, not only that, darling," Breha said again, "but you've been robbed of knowing how things would have been with him, now that the war is over - "

Leia smacked her hand on the table, glaring. Fear gripped her chest - but did that matter? Did it matter at all?She had also looked forward to a victory that included Alderaan, and all those hopes were dashed, but did that mean she should have given up on victory? Was part of her really arguing she should back away from Han because things might not be perfect? She had lost too much to set her sights on perfect.

"Things have changed,"she said, "but Han hasn't changed."

Her father raised his hand, and pointed at her sternly, his expression sage.

"Do not let your own needs be stifled for this man, Leia," he ordered.

She opened her mouth to shout - that is not what this is about!But the words drowned; her ears rang. She knew this was an eerie manifestation of her inner thoughts, but she felt judged by her parents, and wanted to scream at her father that he had no right to talk to her about her needs, and her youth - her youth was gone, and her needs were different now. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she realized she was hearing alarms, screeching, horrible alarms. Breha turned to Bail and said something quietly, but Leia couldn't hear it. She was hearing the destruction, watching her parents slip away from her. Her heart ached; she knew this wasn't real, but she wanted so badly to stay here with them, no matter what the cost.

"Mama," she yelled desperately.

Breha looked at her.

"Leia,"she said gently, soothingly; Leia could barely hear her over the sound. "Leia, Leia, Leia..."

Breha's voice began to fade, and so too did the screeching of the alarms. Everything was eerily silent, soft and silent, and the dream dissolved into nothingness - she was asleep. Somehow, all of that hadn't woken her, but she was conscious of her own sleep now. She felt groggy, muddled, and then she realized there was a hazy hesitance interrupting her slumber; shy words whispered through a fog of semi-conscious, tickling her ears. She thought it was her mother - but no; the words were strange, unfamiliar, and uncertain on the tongue of the speaker. She finally opened her eyes, lips pursed in confusion - and found herself face-to-face with a small, apprehensive child.

She thought the moment might have been more jarring, if her dreams hadn't been so focused on this very child - if her dreams had been an escape, rather than a multifaceted leap into her subconscious.

Big, brave-and-scared brown eyes looked back at her, and when the little girl realized Leia was awake, she fell silent for a moment, and then took a deep breath and said it again, the words that had been fluttering through Leia's ears to pull her out of both the dream, and the unaware sleep that succeeded it:

"Mrs. Solo?"

Leia blinked quickly, her sleepiness fading. She ignored the stir in her chest and stomach that activated at that title, and shifted her head, blinking again until she had a clearer view of the seven-year-old.

"Vada," she said quietly, hoping her expression was soft.

She bit the inside of her lip, a little disoriented - was it morning, or was it the middle of the night? Was something wrong? She had been sleeping so soundly, even with the vivid dreaming. Vada looked worried, and her eyes started to fill with tears.

"I did not mean to have to make you get up," she said, stumbling over the Basic in her soft, polite Corellian accent. She was clearly less confident than she had been last night when she maturely assured them it was best if they all just go to sleep and - deal with this. The nondescript tunic, leggings, and frock she'd been wearing were rumpled. She bit her lip to keep it from shaking. "Where is...my dad?" she asked nervously. "Han?"

It took Leia a moment to process the question. Startled, she turned over sharply to find Han's side of the bed empty - and she noted, by the time on the clock, that it was still before dawn. She had no idea where he'd gone, or where he would have gone, but she was immediately sure that wherever it was, he had intended to be back before anyone woke up. Leia turned back and lifted her head higher, drawing on her crisis management skills to remain calm and self-assured.

"He had some early work to do," she said neutrally.

Vada gave her a reluctant look, and bowed her head.

"Um, okay," she said, shifting her weight.

"Is everything okay?" Leia asked kindly.

Vada shifted her weight again, her hands hanging at her sides uncertainly.

"I...had a bad dream," she confessed under her breath.

Leia's heart tightened at the sight of her. She started to get up, and then thought better of it. Almost before she knew what she was saying, she was gesturing to Han's pillow.

"Why don't you climb up here and lay in Han's spot?" she offered.

Vada looked hopeful, then worried, then uncertain. A torrent of emotions cascaded over her face, and then, she did so, pulling herself up on the bed and climbing over Leia's feet gingerly to reach Han's side. She curled up almost entirely under the pillow, without pulling the covers around her, and Leia rolled over to face her, glancing at the bedroom door as she did. No lights were on in the hallway. She settled back down apprehensively, entirely out of her element, but cautiously hoping she was doing the right thing - it had been an instinctive action, maybe because her own mother used to let Leia into her bed when she was young and frightened of something.

Vada tucked her wild hair behind her ears, avoiding Leia's eyes, holding herself uncertainly. She kept shifting her head, unable to relax, and Leia watched her, struck again by the uncanny similarity to Han in her features. Laying here, with her head hardly more than two feet away from Han's daughter, felt absurd and surreal; it was awkward, and hard to make sense of, but it was also a concrete moment. She thought it strange that Vada would seek her - them - out so readily, but then, maybe not so strange; she wasn't a baby, but she was young. She'd just been uprooted. A burning desire for comfort and safety probably overwhelmed any suspicions or wariness she had, especially if she had peripheral understandings of Han and Leia's public personas. She'd know that, at least in the abstract, they probably wouldn't hurt her physically.

Grappling for something to say, Leia went with the most obvious:

"What kind of bad dream?" she asked gently. She had a reasonable amount of confidence in her ability to prove there were no monsters under the bed, if that was the worst of it.

Vada looked scared to answer, but did so anyway.

"I was...thinking what would happen if my dad...does not want me here," she said.

Not really a description of the dream, but Leia got the gist. It seemed a fair thing for Vada to be worried about. It was, Leia supposed, the only thing she herself would be worried about, if she were in Vada's shoes. The different possibilities of what she was facing were no doubt settling in, and if she had any awareness of the relatives who had refused her years previously, she would likely be dreading the same treatment. Leia...did not believe Han would take that route.

"Well," Leia began softly, "he has to be responsible for you," she explained, relating Corellian laws she'd only learned about yesterday, and that Vada, frankly, probably already knew by heart. "That's the law. Corellia has a strict honor code. If he's found fit, he has to take care of you."

Vada stared at her warily, and Leia winced, silently rebuking herself. Her voice had sounded soothing, but - Vada didn't want to hear that she was legally safe for now; she wanted to know she was wanted. She had to be feeling as out of place and scared as Han himself was, and in the middle of all that, confined to her own private shock, Leia just - existed, an outsider, to the struggle they would face in reconciling. Maybe she even existed as someone who threatened the memory of Vada's mother in the first place, though Vada had hardly mentioned her mother. Leia felt panic rising in her chest - barely a day had passed; she had no precedent for making promises, or assuring Vada she was wanted. Vada was a burgeoning reality for Han, and that was terrifying enough; the idea of making promises that might not pan out, for a whole host of complex reasons, made Leia slightly nauseous.

She tried again anyway, earnest -

"Your father is a good person," she said sincerely - that was an unequivocal truth. She was safe starting there. "I know he does not want you to go back to an orphanage," she assured Vada - and even if that was vague, it was right. No matter how difficult this was for Han to accept, and would be for them to navigate, Leia could tell he abhorred the idea of Vada on the streets, which was what he pretty much considered a home to be. She'd seen his face when he found out that's where she'd been for three years - he'd looked sick, almost traumatized. There was heavy personal experience there that would preclude him letting anything similar happen to Vada.

And frankly, Leia had a strong feeling that even if they'd found out Vada wasn't related to him at all, Han would likely have a hard time sending any stray kid right back to an orphanage.

Vada sniffed.

"But this is your place, also," she whispered, her face turned into the pillow apprehensively "And your life," she muttered.

Leia compressed her lips, bowled over by the capacity of understanding Vada exhibited in that respect. At some point between bed last night, and early this morning, the novelty must have worn off and the real apprehension set in, and very suddenly, Leia decided that regardless of what happened, she in her own right was capable of assuring Vada she, Leia, would not kick her out of this home.

She nodded.

"Yes, and you are safe here," she said firmly - in Leia's home, and Leia's life, Vada would be protected. "Han means a lot to me," she added. She wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe she expected Vada to interpret that to mean Leia wouldn't make Han choose between them, that she'd do what it took to keep things together.

Vada reached up and rubbed her eye, yawning.

"I miss my mother," she murmured quietly. She sounded a little surprised.

"I know," Leia sympathized immediately. After a moment, she tilted her head. "My mother died, too," she offered.

Vada sighed, lifting her chin bravely.

"Can I stay here in my dad's spot?" she asked worriedly. "The other room is big and...scary."

Leia felt a pang - of course, Vada was used to sleeping in a room filled with other lost children, and Leia had placed her in a guest room with a huge fluffy bed and no decorations and - that had been a mistake, but where else was she to put her? She grimaced - this wasn't a good start; she was awful at this - she wasn't cut out for it. She swallowed hard, and nodded, rustling some sheets to offer them to Vada.

"Thank you, Mrs. Solo," Vada said, clutching the blankets.

Leia parted her lips, on the verge of correcting her - she was sure she'd asked Vada to call her Leia, and she and Han weren't - but the correction died on her lips; maybe thinking that was more comforting for Vada right now. She watched the little girl settle in, and close her eyes with determination, putting the tip of her finger in her mouth and biting on her nail.

Leia rolled onto her back, vividly aware of Han's daughter resting carefully beside her, feeling a sense of nervousness she wasn't used to. This was an incredibly intimate scene, given how little time she had known of Vada's existence, and given her tenuous connection to her - which was solely by virtue of her being Han's girlfriend. She didn't want Han to think she was interfering or - she didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know what the hell they were doing. And where the hell was Han, any -

"You should write to your mom," Vada said suddenly.

Leia looked over, and Vada was peering at her shyly, her eyes half-shielded by her lashes. She swallowed, plucking at the pillow nervously, but nodded.

"I write to mine. On my datapad. And draw her pictures. Of stuff that happens," Vada explained. "It made me feel better when she first died. But I was sloppy at it then. I am better now, at writing, and drawing."

Vada hesitated sheepishly.

"She is, um, a better listener, now," she mumbled. "She...did not listen a lot, when she was...alive," she tried to explain. "But she always hung up my pictures."

Leia listened, her curiosity piqued - but she did not want to start probing. She just let Vada talk, if that made her feel better. Vada nodded to herself.

"You could say things you would tell her if she was here," Vada whispered.

Leia gave a small smile.

"I guess I could," she agreed.

Vada nodded again. She smiled a little, and then tucked her head down, closing her eyes with determination again. Leia watched her for a little while, studying her as she focused hard on falling asleep - and then did, truly, fall asleep some time later, her body relaxing slowly. Leia reached over and tucked the covers around her in case she got cold, continuing to watch her for a long time. She turned on her back again, staring at the ceiling, wondering what Han would do when he tried to sneak back in, and then letting that train of thought wander, and questioning what Han - she and Han - were going to do in the next hours, and the next days.

There was this whole life unfolding before her that she was utterly unprepared for, and while that had always been the case to some extent, now it involved a child who needed - real guidance and care from confident adults. She wasn't sure she was capable of that. If her dreams had anything to say about it, she wasn't even sure she wanted to be capable of that.

Sleep pulled at her again, and she shook her head a little incredulously, thinking of Han's inability to believe that Vada had been able to sleep - well, Leia couldn't believe she was falling back to sleep now, but she was. Perhaps to hide a little longer from the logistics, and the plans they'd have to make, and the feelings she needed to sort through. Where are you, Han? - she thought anxiously, hazily, as her eyes closed - how could he have run away before dawn, what the hell was he doing? She pushed the irritation that flared away - he'd need patience from her, but they'd need a deeper conversation about all of this, and soon.

It was still dusky, just before sunrise, when Han arrived home - Leia's apartment? Home, or Leia's apartment, or both? He figured it was home now, at least that was what Leia had unequivocally told the social workers. Prior to that they hadn't...quite made up their minds about their living situation, yet, due to all the moving, and some logistics and - well, if he gave into his agitation a little, some uncertainty regarding whether or not it was a good idea for them to officially live together just yet, even though he spent the night with her all the time, and most of his stuff was stored in her apartment. He knew Leia had no qualms about living with him, but he was sure some element of how undefined it had been had to do with her taking it easy on peers of hers who would find it shocking. Or, maybe that was bantha shit, and Leia had assumed he wanted to live with her, and he was the one who kept confusing her by staying on the Falcon sometimes - damn, he really should have just asked her.

It wasn't - good that the answer had come from a situation as dire as this, because on the one hand, it seemed uncertain in a different way. As in: would Leia have said they were living together if it didn't seem immediately prudent to do so? And would she resent this? He knew she was being practical; the spare bunk on the Falcon was no place for a little girl, it wasn't even really a decent place for a grown man. He was perfectly capable of renting his own flat these days - and he needed to be thinking practically, in terms of little girls, because he had to. He couldn't continue to gape dumbly and make awkward remarks while Leia took charge of a problem she had no hand in creating.

Unable to sleep even after Leia had miraculously nodded off, Han had finally extricated himself from her grip and left, pacing the empty rooms of her apartment until it threatened to drive him mad. Restless, he'd descended into the streets of Coruscant, heading to the market and trying to formulate a plan of action while he wandered around buying fruits and vegetables and sweets. He barely paid attention to what he was buying, and on some subconscious level, he supposed his own childhood desires were driving him - what had he wanted to eat, when he was Vada's age and starving; what would he have wanted if he'd have suddenly been handed off to people who had disposable income? Distracted by internal chaos, he indiscriminately purchased things. The early morning mission gave him something to do, a way to feel like he'd done something useful.

If nothing else, at least when Leia woke up, he could show her he had thought ahead enough to want to feed Vada breakfast, even if he was still struggling to comprehend the fact, now that he was back here at the apartment, that he had a kid he was supposed to provide breakfast to.

He'd had every intention of sneaking back in undetected and crawling back into bed with Leia. He'd taken an exhaustive amount of care being quiet as he crept back in, which of course meant he dropped two items and banged his foot on the furniture - but once he'd set everything away in the kitchen, and heard no sounds of life throughout the apartment, he'd figured he hadn't caused any major disturbances. When he opened the door to the bedroom, however - he found his spot was taken. Leia was still asleep, curled neatly on her side, her hair obscuring her face, and Vada was next to her, one hand up near her mouth as if she'd fallen asleep chewing a nail and her other stretched out and lightly clutching Leia's elbow.

Han stood there for a moment, stricken with uncertainty - he'd only left because he was positive he could do so without sounding alarms or waking anyone, and yet clearly he'd been mistaken. He highly doubted Vada had left the room she was in and jumped into bed with Leia without waking her, and he was sure Leia would have been disoriented to discover him gone. Whatever had happened - Leia had clearly had to handle it. And that was - it felt like a hand was gripping Han's lungs, squeezing the air out of them tightly - that was exactly what he didn't want, what he dreaded: Leia having to deal with all of this, Leia being thrust into a position she never asked for, Leia being tied down and burdened with his irresponsibility on top of everything else that rested on her shoulders.

Taking a few delicate steps back, careful not to bump into anything this time, Han retreated back to the kitchen, unwilling to disturb either of them. He stood among the items he'd left there, his arms folded, staring gloomily at his feet. He thought about Leia, and then another part of him guiltily pointed out that maybe he should be thinking more, and worrying more, about Vada, his daughter, a little girl who needed help and attention - but he didn't know Vada. He knew and loved Leia, and he'd been planning on a future with her, and as callous as it may be, it was hard to suddenly and immediately put first a child who he had never heard of until last night. He should feel some innate something knowing she was his, shouldn't he? He didn't know if he did.

Still - even with all the tension and insecurity rising, that scene had done something to him, Leia asleep with the kid. My daughter - he reprimanded himself gruffly, and he nodded roughly - yeah, yeah, I'll get used to it.

He sure as hell hoped he would. It may be new, it may be shocking, and it may have totally incapacitated him in more ways than one, but he knew for damn sure he wasn't letting them put a kid who was confirmed to be his blood back in a home. He'd have to figure out how to navigate, and cope, but he had his own demons regarding that - he'd been running from the shadows that haunted his childhood his entire life, and he wouldn't let the same shadows affect her, if he could help it. He hoped that it hadn't been too bad already.

Rousing himself, blinking, as he looked over and saw shimmering rays of sun burst in from the living room onto the kitchen floor, he mustered the energy to start brewing kaffe, hoping the smell would lure Leia out of her sleep, and coax her into the kitchen. He hoped, too, that it wouldn't wake Vada just yet - he didn't know what he was going to say to her, and he was twice as disoriented because she, a seven-year-old, seemed better equipped to handle talking to him.

Then - she'd known he was her father. That was something Visenya had felt important to tell her, even if she'd never notified Han.

His kaffe tactic succeeded; Leia appeared silently, yawning, her hair lazily braided over one shoulder. She had changed out of the thin slip nightgown she'd gone to bed in, and was instead in sweatpants, and an old, ratty t-shirt of his. The words Corellian Supernovas! were emblazoned across the chest in raucous colours. Han was not sure where the hell it had come from. He knew it was his, but he hadn't seen it in years, until she found it in some hidden place on the way to Bespin and decided it was her favorite shirt. He'd probably lost a bet and had to wear it when he was a teenager or something.

She shot a smile at the brewing kaffe, and put a finger to her lips delicately.

"Vada is still asleep," she murmured.

Han twisted away from the kaffe maker edgily, leaning against the counter.

"What happened?" he asked tersely. "What's wrong?"

Leia shrugged gently, rubbing her arms to warm up. She curled her toes; the kitchen floor was chilly on bare feet. When Han stayed over, he kept the place about as cold as Hoth, or so she complained - while he argued that she kept it hot as a rain forest, and was clearly on some sort of mission to sweat him to death.

"She's okay," Leia assured him. "Or, she seems to be. She had a bad dream."

Han shifted his weight.

"I didn't think she'd come in there, or she'd, uh, wake up," he stammered hastily. "Or - I mean, well, kids her age sleep through the night, yeah?" he asked.

Leia raised her brows.

"She's not an infant," she murmured, amused.

Han grimaced.

"I didn't mean to put you in that position," he trailed off as Leia shook her head mildly, waving her hand.

"Han, a child is hardly the most trying thing I've had to handle in the middle of the night," she said lightly, thinking back to Senate emergencies, war time battles, and even her own nightmares. "Where did you go?" she asked curiously.

Han shrugged.

"I couldn't sleep," he answered stiffly. He gestured towards the door. "I - I checked on her, I looked," he went on, as if seeking approval. "Before I went out. She was asleep."

"Han," Leia placated. Her voice was so calm. "It's okay."

"I went to get fruit and stuff. To make breakfast," he went on, waving his arm wildly around at the counter tops. He'd put the perishable items away, but some other stuff was still out - sweets, protein bars, dry snacks. "Don't know what she eats though," he jerked his chin at a crate on the counter. "So I, uh, got a toy, too," he muttered, sheepish.

Leia wandered over to the small crate, and peeked inside. She moved aside a colourful bag full of caramels and pulled out a generic stuffed animal. It was fluffy, clean, and pink, which she supposed Han had chosen just based on a stereotyped assumption. She thought it would be a nice gesture, though she did make a mental note to tell him to make sure it wasn't seen as a replacement for the stuffed Loth-cat she already had. That one definitely meant something to Vada, and she was unlikely to get rid of it. She placed the toy back in the crate, and turned to face him, leaning against the counter opposite and catching his eye gently.

"Don't leave like that next time," she said quietly. "Not without waking me and letting me know."

He nodded.

"I don't mean I want to keep tabs on you," she went on. "It's just that now that she's here, I need to know where you are, for when she asks. She came looking for you."

Han swallowed hard, anxiety creeping up his spine.

"Really?" he asked dryly. "She doesn't like me, though," he protested warily - Vada had stood close to Leia most of the previous evening, and spoke more readily to Leia, and engaged more with Leia -

Leia laughed a little, interlacing her hands. She smiled.

"She just doesn't know you," Leia answered. She threw him a soft wink. "I didn't like you at first, either," she teased - and then sighed. "She's known who you are for years and she's been told you're responsible for her now, and she knows that if it doesn't work out, she goes back to a home. Don't convince yourself she doesn't like you," she urged him. "She's just...cautious. Shy."

"She came and bothered you," Han pointed out. "That's pretty bold."

"Vada didn't bother me," Leia corrected immediately - honestly. "She's very sweet. And I know how bad nightmares can be. I don't blame her for being bold, if she was that scared. She's in a new place. Like I said - she was looking for you. She just happened upon me instead." Leia looked down at her hands. "I think she's scared you don't like her."

Han threw one hand out, his expression pained. He wasn't sure how that idea affected him - he didn't dislike Vada. He barely knew her, but he didn't think he was apathetic about her, either. On a primal level he was having difficulty accessing, he probably liked her purely in an evolutionary sense, because she was kin.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked in a hiss, so quietly Leia cocked her head to listen. "I just found out about her. Leia, they told you before I knew," he said, his voice strained.

Leia nodded. She chose not to tell Han that Vada was already worried that Han was going to reject her, already having bad dreams about such an outcome. She had plenty of faith in Han not to do that, and she didn't want to make him feel worse than he did. He ran his hand over his jaw, closing his eyes and squeezing them shut tightly. He opened them again when he started to see black spots, and his head started to ache. He watched Leia lick her lips, and straighten her shoulders.

She smiled.

"She called me Mrs. Solo," she told him lightly. "Twice."

It was meant to lighten the mood, but Han winced. A nervous lurch rolled through his gut, and he thought of the ring he had, buried in a drawer on the Falcon, a bold, impulsive talisman that represented so much he was afraid to lose. He'd bought it during the whirlwind victory celebrations, and when those died down, he'd lost his nerve, thinking the action absolutely ludicrous - was he insane, thinking she was ready to marry him? He didn't doubt her love, but there were other factors -

"Kriff," he swore tensely. "She thinks you're my wife?"

Leia tried not to take the way he said that too personally - it was stress, rather than derision, that riddled his tone. "You don't have to be someone's step-mom," he said, gritting his teeth. "I'm sorry, Leia - shit," he swore again, under his breath this time.

Leia remained silent, and turned to fix kaffe mugs. She bit the inside of her lip to keep her expression neutral - well, the question was, then, did he not want to put pressure on her, or would he not want her involved in Vada's life? She didn't think it was the latter, but she also didn't know what a situation like this could do to a person's psyche, in terms of doubting himself, and his relationships. The middle of the kitchen, this very instant, was probably not the place to flesh out such a nuance - and Leia certainly realized the absurdity of suddenly asking: Wait, you don't want to get married? I want to marry you!- but she felt a shiver of apprehension. She hadn't come out of an adolescence of battle with a burning desire to be a mother, but as with anything else, circumstances dictated her behavior, and she loved Han.

Han had accepted the realities of her family unequivocally; surely he knew she'd do the same?

She handed him a mug of smoky black kaffe, compartmentalizing more things to discuss later, when they - when the dust settled, and they got a routine. After she clarified things to her superiors, dealt with their attitudes, talked to Luke - oh, Luke; and Chewbacca...

"Han," she said quietly, catching his eye. "I know there is a lot of weight on your mind, but over the next few days, when you think of this, and you try to make sense of this, and you start confronting all of your choices, please know that one of them is not choosing between me and Vada. I'm not going to give that ultimatum. I wouldn't do that to a child, or to you."

She hoped that, for the moment, that was enough to soothe him a little, a subtle implication that for now, she wasn't considering jumping ship, and in her foreseeable future, she couldn't imagine ever wanting to.

Han furrowed his brow, not saying anything. That made him feel worse, somehow, though he knew that wasn't Leia's intention. He held his kaffe in one hand, shoving his other hand into his pocket.

"You're bein' pretty damn calm about all this," he said, and he wondered why he sounded so harsh and accusatory. Why was he angry that she was taking this so well? Shouldn't he be grateful, relieved?

Leia paused, her eyes on the steam rising from her own kaffe.

"Well," she started carefully, "would you rather I scream at you and call you names and walk out on you?" she asked.

Han scraped his nail along the ceramic of the mug.

"Dunno," he breathed tiredly, deflating. "Maybe." He turned his head, his expression meeker. He grimaced. "Not the walkin' out part," he said hastily. "Maybe some name callin'."

She smiled wryly, pushing away from her counter and moving forward. She leaned against the counter next to him, resting her mug delicately on the counter top. She sighed to herself, lashes fluttering as she thought about it - would it make it easier for him to function in this strange new situation if she lost her mind completely? Acted like a banshee, ripped into him, cried, threw a fit? She wasn't even sure any of that was in her nature.

"It isn't as if you knew about her and hid her from me," she said softly. She tilted her head up, staring at his taut jaw. "You didn't lie to me. I haven't lost trust in you, so I haven't lost faith in you."

She straightened, pushing her mug away, and moved closer, looping her arms around his. She pressed her lips against his bicep, and then stood a little taller to reach the underside of his jaw, brushing her lips there gently. Han moved his kaffe slightly to give her more room without jostling the mug.

"I don't know what to do," Han said quietly, his mouth twisting in a rueful grimace.

Leia rubbed his arm gently. It was good for him - for both of them - to just admit that, and see where it took them.

"She'll probably want breakfast, when she wakes up," she murmured. "Good thinking buying things to make," she soothed. "We'll just have to go from there."

"Still can't believe she's just sleepin' like that," Han said, shaking his head.

"Kids are resilient," Leia murmured. "I wonder where all that childhood resilience goes," she sighed.

Han dipped his head. He reached over to cover Leia's hand with his. For some reason, her calm, quiet support, her steady outlook, just made him feel like he'd some how wronged her, abused her - stolen something from her. She leaned against him and reached out idly to pick up her kaffe mug and take a drink, inhaling the caffeine, and then setting it back down, business-like.

"We need to come up with a semblance of a plan," she said, nodding to herself. Han turned to her, saw her igniting her crisis management mode. "That way, she gets a sense of stability. An idea that we know what we're doing."

"Somethin' kinda tells me she knows we don't," Han pointed out dryly.

"Something tells me she's smart enough to pretend she doesn't know we're pretending," Leia retorted. "She's smart," Leia added. "I can tell she's smart." Han nodded, and she went on: "We'll come up with something, and then I'll rummage through my things and see if I've got anything she can wear. She must be tired of that ragged frock they assigned her at the home."

Han turned to her skeptically.

"Leia, I know you're short," he said, "but she's tiny."

Leia looked up.

"Never under estimate the utility of a large blouse and a fashionable scarf used as a belt," she pointed out. She hesitated. "And a 'fresher, I'm sure she'll want that," she murmured. "I can do something with her hair, something simple. She might like that," she added.

Han listened to her starting to get things in order, and tried not to let himself wallow in how lost he felt. He steeled himself, mentally ordering a response to her taking charge. Leia was still talking, softly, almost to herself, and Han swallowed hard - she was right; they needed a framework, at least for today - and preferably before Vada woke up, and looked to them for guidance.

Vada was awake, lying in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The ceiling in Han Solo and Princess Leia's bedroom was silver and plain. It wasn't reflective, but it wasn't dull. It looked very neat and pristine, like most other things Vada had noticed here.

The scent of food had woken her up, or at least, it had fully woken her up. She'd been hazily in and out of sleep since Leia had gotten up a little while ago. She'd woken Vada, but Vada had expected her to come back, so she'd rolled over and gone back to sleep, fitfully. No more bad dreams, but more of a vague, superficial sleep – the way she'd slept in the home, when she was suspicious some other kid might try to steal Spork.

She'd left Spork in the empty bedroom Leia had put her in last night, and she frowned to herself, deciding that was a mistake. She wanted him now, as a hodgepodge of delicious smells started to fill the room, and she stayed where she was hesitantly, trying to decide if she wanted to get up.

Blinking, with the memory of the past night's bad dream far away and muddled, she felt embarrassed for getting scared and running in here. She'd had plenty of bad dreams in the home, and there had been no one to run to, so why did she think to go looking for someone now? Just because they were there? She still didn't even really know them.

But – being protected by people who had defeated the evil Emperor, even if Han wasn't in there, actually did seem like a pretty good idea.

Vada rolled over, staring at Leia's spot in the bed. She wondered if her father was back now, and she wondered where he had really been. She had thought Leia was lying when she said he was at work, but she didn't think Leia was lying to be mean. She was pretty sure Leia just didn't know where Han was, and Vada was well aware that adults did not like to be wrong, especially not in front of children.

She was intensely curious about where her father had gone. Had he gone back to the social workers to tell them he'd pay the fine, and they'd have to take her back to Corellia – ?

Vada sat up and rubbed her eyes hard, trying to smash those thoughts away. Leia said Han didn't want to send her back to a home, and that Vada was sure hadn't been a lie. At least, Leia believed it, and that was good. She was good – everyone in the galaxy trusted her, pretty much.

Twisting her hand in her knotted hair, Vada looked around, surveying the room. It wasn't a garishly decorated bedroom, not like her mother's had been, but it wasn't bland, either. There were a few neat little paintings, the usual closets and bureaus and, Vada noticed quickly, a small table with two drawers by the bed.

She stared at it, chewing her lip, trying to resist a burning urge to open the drawers. She knew snooping was not appropriate, but her mother had kind of always told her that it was a self-preservation tactic to look in people's medicine cabinets and bedside table drawers, because that was where freaks kept the evidence that they were freaks. Han and Leia didn't seem like freaks – but could she really be sure?

She had to protect herself, didn't she? If one of them caught her, though, after they'd been nice, and were already so shocked, they'd probably kick her out so fast her head would spin.

But Vada was seven years old, and her impulse control was low. Perhaps if she'd been eight –

She checked the doorway sheepishly, then lunged over and sprawled flat out on her stomach. Quietly, she slid the first drawer open, peaking inside. It was an uninteresting drawer, and very feminine. There were book chips, a box of crackers, some chocolates, scented oil, and a bottle of lotion, or water? The lotion was see-through, but Vada's mother had that in her bedside drawer, too. There was also a small blaster and a blaster clip, which was a little scary, but people did used to try to kill them a lot. Vada shut the door and then opened the second one – that one was full of different coloured lace. She shut that drawer more quickly, giggling.

She threw herself away from the drawer and buried her face in a pillow, only a little ashamed of herself. More than anything, she was happy she didn't find anything creepy.

She took a deep breath and sat up, situating herself in the middle of the bed. Now it was important to come up with some sort of plan for the next…few minutes. She was alone in here, so Leia was awake. It smelled like food, so someone was cooking – Leia? She wasn't so sure, since last night her dad had made some kind of joke about Leia not being able to cook.

Vada didn't exactly think she should wait for someone to come get her; she was too old for that, and besides, it wouldn't be polite to monopolize their room. But she also wasn't sure it was polite to go wandering around and find see what was going on. What if her dad was back, and they were having a grown-up conversation?

Frowning, she crossed her legs and ran her hands over the woven bracelet on her ankle, idly picking at some of the threads. It was frayed and faded, but knotted on tightly and wouldn't fall off for a long time. A friend at the home had made it for her when she found out she might be going to live with her father. She said by the time it broke and fell off, Vada wouldn't need it anymore.

It seemed a little silly, but people had their own beliefs and superstitions, and Vada liked the thought.

She heard something clinking faintly, and looked up. A moment later, she heard muffled laughter, and it sounded deep, like a man's voice. That told her Han was definitely back. It was a relief to hear him laughing, maybe that meant he was less shocked than he had been last night.

Less likely to want to boot her right back to Coronet City.

She decided it was a good idea to get up. She had plenty of independence and she felt like it was a good idea to show that, just so Han and Leia didn't think they had some kind of baby on their hands. She rolled to the side and scooted off the bed, dropping to the floor silently.

She crept to the door and peeked out, her head swiveling as she looked up and down the hall. She remembered where the kitchen was, but before she headed that way, she slipped into the hallway 'fresher Leia had showed her last night. She checked her reflection the same way she'd often seen her mother do – pinched her cheeks, tucked away flyaway hairs, and lifted her chin to examine her features. She wanted to make sure she didn't look too much like a street urchin – that would be unappealing.

She knew there were all kind of legal reasons for her to stay here, but she'd really prefer to be wanted.

She flexed her hands, wishing she had something to tie her hair up with. The shampoo and conditioner the social workers had gotten for her was awful; she might as well have dumped glue on her head.

She scrunched up her nose, shrugged, and turned the light off in the 'fresher, heading cautiously down the hall to the point where she could either turn into the sitting room, or turn around another corner into the kitchen. She inched closer to the corner of the kitchen, breathing in the tempting scents of breakfast.

It had been a long time since she smelled food that good.

"I dunno," she heard her father say – the male voice was definitely his. "He won't know what to do. Wring my neck, prob'ly."

Laughter; Leia's.

"He won't do that when you explain you didn't know," she answered practically.

Han snorted.

"Chewie's always wringin' my neck," he retorted.

"Did he know her? I mean, were you and Chewbacca a team when…?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, he knew Visenya."

They were talking about her mother - sort of. Vada was torn between listening for more, because she was interested to know what her father thought of her mother, and breaking this habit of snooping and eavesdropping right now. Particularly since Leia had pretty much caught her doing it last night – not really caught her, but Vada had heard her tell the social workers that it was obvious Vada was listening.

Which, of course, she was. The princess was clearly as smart as the Holo news said she was.

Vada keyed back in on the conversation, hearing a few more words –

"…think I should be messin' around with anyone, 'cause I wasn't over – "

Vada took a deep breath and took a few steps, poking her nose around the corner, and then stepping across the threshold of the kitchen. She was noticed immediately, and the conversation stopped. Han fell silent, and stared at her, which meant Leia turned around curiously and caught sight of her as well.

With their full attention on her, Vada blushed, and despite her promise to herself to be confident and brave, shrank back a little shyly. She felt much less emboldened than she had when she'd taken it upon herself to go running into their bedroom earlier.

"Good morning," Leia said kindly. "You can come in," she encouraged, waving her hand.

Vada stepped back out around the corner, taking one large, hesitant stride forward. She looked at them thoughtfully, and Leia looked at Han, tilting her head pointedly. Han blinked at her, clueless, and after a moment, Vada watched Leia roll her eyes and set her kaffe mug aside, turning to Vada.

"Did you fall back to sleep without any trouble?" Leia asked. "Sleep okay after the bad dream?"

It was the most logical thing to ask to break the ice without making things dreadfully uncomfortably, and she could kick Han for not taking the hint. She saw him wince out of the corner of her eye – he'd realized what she'd been trying to tacitly tell him to ask.

Vada nodded.

"Yes, um, thank you," she said. "I am…sorry for making you get up," she added earnestly. "There were…lots of shadows in the dark. In that big room," she explained hastily.

"You don't need to apologize," Leia said. "We can get you a night glower for the room," she offered, "and decorate it to your tastes to make it more, ah, homey," she said smoothly.

Vada instinctively wanted to protest the use of a night glower – she was not a baby - but then, maybe it would be nice to have one, just until she got used to things here. She settled for smiling cautiously. The idea of decorating a room seemed very permanent, that had to be a good sign.

She tilted her head a little and looked at her father, who despite being much, much taller than Princess Leia, appeared to be almost hiding behind her.

"It smells nice in here," Vada said.

Leia folded her arms. She stepped to the side, and nodded.

"You can thank Han for that," she said, inclining her head at him. "He's the cook. I never learned," she added, pointing a finger inwards at herself. "Unless you fancy a very well heated ration pack."

Vada laughed a little.

Leia elbowed Han in the side and then turned to pour more kaffe into a mug on the counter. Han shifted away from the jab with a soft grunt and cleared his throat, nodding awkwardly at the stovetop.

"I went out and got stuff for breakfast," he told Vada gruffly. "Wasn't sure what you liked, so you got to tell me if you don't eat somethin'," he went on. "Or…if you're allergic," he added, inspired by the thought. "You allergic to anything?"

Vada wrinkled her nose.

"Pollen makes me sneeze a lot," she said, shrugging. "But no foods." She shifted her weight back and forth shyly. "I am not a picky eater," she said earnestly.

Leia picked up her mug.

"It's okay if you are," she said. "Han doesn't want you to feel like you have to eat anything he made just because he made it."

Vada looked between Han and Leia, and then settled on Han.

"Is she right?" she asked. "Is that want you want?"

Han looked taken aback. Leia smirked, and started to take a drink of her kaffe, peering at Han primly over the edge of it. Perhaps that would kick some confidence in him, listening to a seven-year-old child demand that he speak for himself. Leia hadn't had any malicious feelings towards Vada at all, but at that comment, she decided she liked her quite a bit.

"Uh," Han began. "Well, yeah," he said, shrugging. "I made some stuff, and got some fruit and…stuff," he explained, "but don't say you like it if it's just to be polite. You don't have to be polite," he said.

He paused, frowning. It seemed inappropriate to tell a child she didn't have to be polite – but she knew what he meant, right? He just didn't want her to think she had to force down stuff she didn't like because she was afraid he'd –

"I'm not gonna send you back to a home 'cause you don't want what I got for breakfast," he said, more bluntly.

Leia shot him an appalled look.

"Han," she hissed, blinking sharply. She turned to Vada, shaking her head. "Of course he won't – "

"It is okay," Vada said quietly. "I get it, the…point," she said, blushing. She shifted her feet again, and lifted her chin. "So…what did you make?" she asked curiously, taking a deep breath.

"Oh," Han said. He reached up and rubbed his jaw, and then pointed towards the stove. "There's scrambled eggs, and iktotch toast, bantha biscuit, some hash fry," he pointed at the icebox, "got some fruits, and poptree syrup with fig, if you want, uh, hotcakes – "

Vada's face lit up hesitantly, and he trailed off, giving her time to speak.

"Corellian style?" she asked, biting her lip. "You can make hotcakes?"

Han smiled a little, encouraged by her happiness. He nodded, sliding one hand into his pocket. He shrugged as if it were no big deal – and it wasn't, really; any Corellian worth their salt could make them.

"'Course I can," he said smoothly. He jerked his head towards Leia. "She likes 'em, too."

Leia nodded.

"Of course she does!" Vada said incredulously. "She is not stupid. No one with a brain does not like hotcakes Corellian style."

Vada's excitement flared, at the idea of such a traditional, delicious breakfast. She hadn't had anything that good in a long time – and hotcakes were one of the few things her own mother had been able to cook well. She was surprised it didn't make her sad to think about, but instead she just felt thrilled at the idea.

When Han didn't say anything, just stared at her, she quailed a little, trying to rein it in. She bit her lip and winced, nodding her head.

"I, um, would like that," she said. "The hotcakes."

She peered at the food that was already started on the stove, and pointed at one of the plates.

"I like toast, too," she added, in a calmer voice. "I am…really not picky," she explained. "That was a truth."

"Okay," Han said. He paused, glancing around. He pointed at the bar. "Uh, why don't you sit up there," he suggested, "and, you can have some toast while I make the hotcakes."

Vada nodded. She took a few steps back, and then hopped around to the high chairs that were neatly lined up at the kitchen island's bar. She used the rungs around the bottom and the counter to boost herself up, and folded her hands neatly. Leia smiled at her, and turned to get a plate of the iktotch toast. She handed it to Vada, pleased with the less awkward conversation Han had managed.

"Do you want something to drink?" Leia asked.

Vada hesitated.

"Can I have kaffe?" she asked.

Leia arched her eyebrows.

"I don't think," she began, and then broke off, compressing her lips. She turned slightly, clearing her throat. "Han?"

"Yeah?" he muttered, busy configuring the right mixture for hotcakes.

"Vada would like to know if she can have kaffe with breakfast."

Han turned, looking over his shoulder. He gave Leia a confused look, and she stared back at him pointedly, obviously not willing to take this one for him. He looked over at Vada warily, wondering if this was a test. He didn't know if he really cared if she drank kaffe – was he supposed to? Was she supposed to?

He paused, a mixing bowl tucked into the corner of his arm.

"Uhhh," he started. He frowned. "Kaf's bad for you at your age," he said, cutting a quick, wary look at Leia – isn't it?

"I had kaffe in the home," Vada said.

Han narrowed his eyes.

"Pretty much tells me I'm right," he said darkly, deciding anything the home had allowed – if the homes were still anything like he remembered – was not healthy, and not good. He glanced at Leia again, but then shook his head. "Just, uh, drink juice or somethin'," he said. "I got Muja juice," he offered.

Vada leaned forward.

"Okay," she agreed simply. "Kaffe, I do not really like anyway," she said, wrinkling her nose. "You saying no, I think, means you will…be okay, to the social workers," she explained.

Han paused and glanced around again – so she was testing him? His mouth felt dry. He looked at Leia, and she shrugged, her lips turning up in a small, sympathetic smile. Han gave Vada a strained smile, and turned back to the task at hand, using it to distract himself for a moment.

Kriff, she seemed to be adjusting easily – Vada, not Leia. Well – Leia seemed to be adjusting fine, too, though Leia was a tougher person to analyze. He'd seen Leia seem perfectly composed many a time when she was falling apart under the surface; he knew her better than that. Vada, though, she was a kid, a pretty young one, there was no way she had the kind of stoic forbearance Leia had, or the ability to fake resilience.

"So, Vada," Leia began kindly, and Han breathed a little easier – he was hoping she'd take the lead at least a little, to discuss some of the plan.

Vada straightened immediately, biting the inside of her cheek. She looked at Leia earnestly, listening. Despite how nice it was, Leia's tone also sounded serious, and that meant pay attention. Vada knew she'd have to listen very closely, because she'd learned that sometimes adults said things one way, but their tones indicated something else, and she wanted to keep herself alert just in case.

"Han and I have done a little bit of talking and we want to let you know what the plan of action is for the next few days," Leia said.

Vada nodded. Han handed her a glass of Muja juice, and Vada cupped it between her hands in a mimicry of the way Leia was holding her mug. Leia leaned her hip against the counter, making sure to keep her attention focused on the little girl.

"There are still some more formalities we have to handle with Corellian social services," Leia continued. "Nothing scary just paperwork, and establishing some dates. We're going to make sure you stay here during this evaluation period Han has to go through, and I don't think that will be a problem since you were released to us last night," she explained.

Vada felt a rush of relief - she did not want to go back to awkward hotel stays with her keepers, and she really, really did not want to stay in an Embassy run care center. Though she was almost positive the places here were nicer than the street homes in Coronet City.

"I haven't been able to do a thorough survey of Corellian law yet, but from what I understand there are generic tenets we'll have to follow. Home visits, interviews, the like," Leia listed. "And we'll have to provide a template, I think, for enrolling you in schools and getting you integrated - you've never left Corellia, have you?" she asked.

Vada shook her head. She paused.

"Well, I went to Selonia twice, but, um, that - does not count, I think," she said.

Han grunted, shaking his head.

"'S'a Correllian system," he muttered. "She wouldn't need an interplanetary holoport for that."

"Do you have an interplanetary holoport?" was Leia's next question.

Vada thought about it hesitantly.

"I got here with the social workers," she said slowly. "I think, um, they had a temporary order of travel, or something?" she explained.

Leia leaned forward, tapping the rim of her mug.

"It must be," she said slowly. She pursed her lips. "You wouldn't be issued one without a custodial parent vouching for you," she added. "Han can do that, I think, and I can use my connections to get it issued without the general waiting period," she glanced over her shoulder. "If you went on a few smuggling hops when you were sixteen, how did you get one?" she asked, knowing full well Han's mother had died far before he reached an age when he didn't need a parental voucher.

Han laughed.

"My interplan's fake," he retorted.

"What? Still?"

"Well, sorta, all the renewed ones are based on the one I faked. And I never actually got 'em renewed at a vender 'cause, y'know," he pointed out, "everyone was tryin' to kill me. I knew a guy who faked 'em. Good ones."

Leia glared at him.

Han shrugged at her, turning back to the hotcakes.

"All I did was forge Ma's signature," he muttered.

She shook her head.

"Han," she snapped under her breath. "You have to get a legal interplan," she ordered, turning back to Vada. She wondered if the High Command knew Han's major identity document was fake. Or at least - created on sort of fraudulent terms. Then, she wondered why she was surprised. She knew Han had used more than one identity, anyway. She just wasn't sure she was aware he'd still been working with fake documents. "We'll get you a permanent interplanetary," she assured her. She hesitated again, and then bit her lip, hating her next question. "Have you had, ahh, any formal schooling...?"

Vada broke her toast in half and nibbled at it, nodding.

"I can read," she answered awkwardly. "If that is...what you are asking to know."

Leia flushed, nodding.

"Well, yes, I wasn't sure - "

"I went to school when Mommy was alive," Vada said. "And we had the, umm, the State classes in the home," she explained. "I read books there," she added. "The library, it had only, umm, six or so books, so I read them a lot." She frowned darkly. "I had book chips, but they all got stolen."

Leia smiled softly.

"I have to talk to some people about good academies," she explained, "so don't worry about having to go to school right away. You'll have time to adjust to other things first, like living here."

She was sort of lying through her teeth, because she had no clue who she was going to consult about primary schools. Anyone she had personally known who had children had died on Alderaan, and they'd have been no help in finding a Coruscant school, anyway. Leia had attended a higher education academy on Coruscant for two summers, but she'd disliked the experience - and that was a moot point.

Han listened to the conversation, pulling plates - and the figs and syrup - out of a cabinet in preparation.

He heard Leia take a deep breath.

"What we've decided is that today we'll go back to see your social workers and get a more concrete picture of what the evaluation period will look like," Leia said firmly. "We will make sure they transfer all your files and that Han has access to everything he needs for you, and we'll get you some clothes and other things so that you're more comfortable. My mother's sister and my cousins had hair like yours, and I'm sure you need nice products for it."

Vada blushed, reaching up to touch her hair. It was a little exciting to think Leia would know what sort of things to get for her hair, maybe even how to fix it. Her hair wasn't nearly as coarse and curly as her mother's had been, because Vada was half-Han and had a mixed background, but it was still pretty unruly. She missed having nice things to put in it - her mother had always been vigilant about that, at least.

"Han's also going to introduce you to Chewbacca," Leia went on. "And I wanted to tell you...not to worry if it seems like we're moving around covertly or trying to, ah, hide you, essentially," she said. "It's because we are. It has nothing to do with Han, or myself, being ashamed; it's due to our high media profile."

Leia hoped she was explaining this gently, and it didn't seem terrifying or rude. She wasn't sure if she was being too proper, either, but Vada seemed attentive, and in full comprehension - so far.

"I don't want anyone bothering you or invading your space because they're curious and," she sighed, trailing off. "I'll...talk to you a little more later about the kind of attention you may get when this is...discovered."

Vada furrowed her brow, but said nothing. She glanced over at her father, and he stepped forward, gingerly placing a plate in front of her, and handing her utensils for the hotcake. He stepped back and slid his hands into his pockets, nodding at her to go ahead, and Vada picked up the fork eagerly, getting ready to stab off pieces of the breakfast.

"Wait, hang on. It's hot. You'll burn your tongue," Han said abruptly, the words coming out of his mouth almost instinctively.

Vada paused, sitting back a little to wait. She eyed the food, and then leaned forward to blow on it gently, taking his words to heart.

"Do you have any questions?" Leia asked, straightening up a little to take a sip of her kaffe.

She breathed out quietly while her face was somewhat hidden by the mug, cautiously congratulating herself on sounding in control and calm. Han was obviously still stumbling his way through interactions, but at least he'd had something to do while they were talking, something that was useful, and focusing for him.

Vada took a moment to think about it. She had questions; she had a thousand questions. She wanted to ask if they'd promise she did not have to go back to the home. She wanted to ask why anyone would care if they 'discovered' her, and she had a lot of questions that maybe seemed like they didn't matter right now, like when her father had met her mother, and why they had broken up, and all kinds of things, because Visenya had never really talked about Han until she got sick, and then the only thing she said was that he didn't know about Vada, but he was a nice person. She also kind of wanted to ask if she could meet Luke Skywalker, but that might be a rude thing to say right now.

"Um," she started. "I think, um, just the question of," she paused, and looked at Han a little anxiously. "What you want me to call you?" she asked. "Because you said...not 'Han,'" she pointed out.

Han swallowed hard, shifting his feet. He removed his hands from his pockets and folded his arms. He pressed he heels of his hands hard into his biceps and frowned - not at her, at himself - as he thought about it. He didn't think she should call him Han, that seemed unnatural, considering. Then again, maybe she didn't want to call him anything else; until yesterday she hadn't really known him from any other guy on the street. Or, actually, she had; he forgot sometimes that his name was out there, and not so infamously, since he was a - Rebellion war hero, and all that bantha shit.

"I, uh," Han began. "You can call me Dad," he said finally, though the word felt incongruous and foreign. He'd never called anyone dad. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd really used that word more than a handful of times, until he'd met Leia, and she talked about her dad, and he listened, and talked with her. "If that's what you want," he added hastily.

Vada nodded.

"I think it will be, you know, weird for everyone?" she said slowly. "Even Mrs. - "

"Leia," Leia supplied simply.

Vada nodded, smiling shyly.

"It's weird but...it will be, maybe less weird, later," she said.

Han gave her a half-grin in spite of the weirdness.

"Yeah," he agreed. "You got that right."

He nodded at her plate.

"Don't let 'em cool off too much," he suggested.

Vada beamed, and turned her attention to her food. Leia set her mug aside, and stepped closer to Han. He bowed his head down a little to listen to her.

"I'm going to get dressed," she murmured.

Han nodded, and held onto her arm above the elbow, tilting his head and kissing her without giving the action a second thought. Leia accepted the kiss, but ended it quickly, and Han shot a glance at Vada. She wasn't really paying attention to them. Leia blushed and squeezed his hand, wrinkling her nose in amusement, and starting to slip past Han.

Vada reached for her juice to wash down her first few bites of the hotcakes, and Han turned back to her, determined to try and be more in control of the conversation when Leia left this time - to be less twitchy, as Vada had called it.

"How is it?" Han asked.

Vada put her glass back down, staring at the plate. Han watched her warily, concerned she didn't like the way he'd cooked them, but then she looked up, her eyes wide and a little nervous.

"Good," she said. "Really good. There is something in them," she guessed.

"Crystal cinnamon," Han said gruffly. He nodded his head at Leia. "She likes 'em that way."

Vada beamed hesitantly, looking over at Leia. She suddenly felt very guilty for snooping in their bedroom this morning. They were being so nice, and she'd been paranoid to think they might be hiding something, and it wasn't a good way to start, sneaking around like that. She bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, and then looked up bravely.

"Wait, um...Leia," she said, using her name as she'd asked. "I am sorry, I...when I was in your room, I looked in your - in the drawers, by the bed," she said rapidly, feeling it was best to confess. She looked back down again hastily. "I was...am...nervous. Because...I do not know you," she added in a rush.

Leia looked taken aback, and turned, glancing at Han. He braced one hand on the counter-top and rubbed his jaw, shooting an alarmed look at Leia - what was in those drawers, anything potentially embarrassing or...?

"There's a blaster in that drawer," Leia said gently.

"I did not touch the blaster," she said hastily. "I know not to touch weapons unless I need to stop someone from hurting me."

Leia raised her eyebrows at that, and gave Han a calm but stern look.

"Buy a trigger lock and a safe," she said. "No point in taking even the slightest chance on an accident."

Han started to protest, but bit his tongue. He didn't know what the best practice was with a kid in the house, because he didn't know what sorts of crazy ideas went through kid's heads. Seemed like Vada already knew not to touch a blaster, and he couldn't see the point in having one in that room for protection if they had to waste time unlocking it and pulling it out of a safe during an incident, but he was smart enough to know Leia would shut him down fast if he tried to point that out right now.

"Don't worry about it, Vada," Leia added. "You were curious, and you're in a new place."

She gave Han a pointed look, and then continued on her way to go change. Han rubbed his jaw again and turned back to Vada, this time with both palms flat on the counter. He concentrated for a minute, his brow furrowed, that was Leia's side of the bed, Leia's personal ankle blaster; Leia kept some snacks in there, and book chips, and - Han winced. He was also pretty sure there was personal lubricant in there. Unless Leia was pulling it out from inside her pillow when she rolled over to get it.

He gave Vada a wary look, but she didn't seem amused or traumatized. She was just staring at him nervously, apparently waiting to be evicted for her crime. Han reminded himself she was only seven. There was a good chance she'd had no clue what she was finding. Han cleared his throat, making sure his voice wasn't too sharp.

"Hey, it's okay," he said. "Don't sit there scarin' yourself, we ain't gonna send you to jail," he added.

Vada swallowed hard.

"Mommy used to tell me to check people's drawers and cabinets to see if they are freaks," she said in a small voice.

To her surprise, her father laughed - a really genuine, deep laugh.

"Yeah, that sounds like Visenya," he agreed. He tilted his head. "She went through every cabinet on the Falcon, once," he recalled. "My ship, the Falcon," he added.

Vada nodded hesitantly.

"I am really sorry," she said, this time in Corellian.

Han shrugged.

"It's okay," he said again, switching to Corellian too, to make her feel better. "Just, uh, don't do it again, got it? Go lookin' in stuff?" he tilted his head. "Ask first."

Vada nodded urgently. Han watched her, and then shifted his weight, folding his arms down and leaning forward on his elbows. He cleared his throat.

"Look, um," he started gruffly. "I was in a home when I was a kid," he said. "Way I r'member it, it was pretty much hell," he said dryly, adding a shrug. "So don't think I'm gonna just let you go back there," he went on awkwardly. When he and Leia had spoken this morning, before Vada woke up, she'd encouraged him to start making an effort to fake confidence where he didn't have it, for Vada's sake. "I know I'm actin' twitchy," he said, using her word, to show he'd listened. "But I don't wanna send you back to a bad place."

He fell short of promising he'd never have let her go there in the first place if he'd known, because he didn't want to glorify the man he'd been. She probably had her own dreamy ideas, like he had when he'd been a kid and not quite jaded yet, and still a little convinced the man who knocked up his mother might show back up one day with an explanation and a treasure chest full of credits. He didn't want to ruin them, but he didn't want to build them up, either.

Vada took a deep breath, and nodded again, this time, very calmly, and slowly. She felt better, having confessed, and was relieved to know it didn't make them hate her. She was glad, because she liked them more every minute - which was probably a little bit because they were two people, with a nice, safe place to live, who made an effort to care about her and make her feel comfortable, and even with her mother she hadn't exactly had that, so she was easily attaching herself to what they offered, molding it with a fantasy in her head.

This was only the second day, though. She had to remind herself not to get too excited or attached. There was...the chance that the social workers could decide Han was a bad person, and take her away, or Leia might decide she didn't want to deal with this situation, and they might pay the fine to not take Vada, because she was his wife and she had a say. Or...actually, Vada was starting to second-guess if Leia and Han were married or not. She didn't want to ask, though, because it kind of seemed like Leia had told the social workers they were, and Vada wouldn't do anything to make the social workers think Leia was an untrustworthy person.

She wanted to be here. Sitting there, in the kitchen, after Leia had been so kind to her after her nightmare, and Han had made her Corellian style hotcakes even though he was clearly having some sort of grown up mental five alarm freak out, and comforted her after she told him she snooped through his wife's things...she couldn't help it, she decided she really wanted to be here.

She had some understanding of how complex things were for the adults, but she was seven - almost eight. For her, things were simpler, emotions stronger, and more guided by perception: she knew he was her father, and in perfect worlds and good stories, fathers loved their kids, and kids were protected by fathers, and for the past day, Han - and Leia - had been good to her, so she liked them, and she wanted to stay here and be Han's daughter, and that was that.

This time, when Leia spearheaded the meeting with Vada's social workers, it was in a more formal environment and everyone was a bit more on their game. Han was less shell-shocked, Vada was not starkly terrified of her surroundings and what was about to happen to her, and both Efema Zune and Callum Kant seemed at least cautiously convinced that Leia was not about to order their untimely executions.

As it were, Leia was aware that they would have their own provisions for what had to be done, legally, in this situation, but she came prepared to provide her own plans and directions, and this was one of the rare times she intended to exercise her name and legacy if she had to. She was here to protect Han, and by extension, his daughter, who had already been treated less-than-gently by these people when they dragged her into such an abrupt introduction to her father.

Incidentally, Leia also used the time to steel herself for the conversation she'd shortly have to have with Mon Mothma and a few other key leaders regarding this. It irritated her that she had to consider politics in such a delicate private situation for Han, but the fact of the matter was, she and Han were in the public eye, and routinely garnered public attention - and media blitzes could affect politics both personal and private. Leia's inner circle and governing cohort didn't deserve to be blindsided like she had been, and Vada would have to understand at least some of what might be directed at her, even though Leia would do her best to shield her from it.

There would be a fine line to walk, as she did not want it to be assumed she was ashamed, and hiding Vada, but she also did not want anyone hounding a child - or Han, for that matter.

Seated around a platinum steel conference table in a citizen services room at the Corellian embassy, the five of them considered each other, and their situation, with Kant beginning with the most fervor.

"Good Morning. The details to be worked out are not - "

"Callum," Zune held up her hand shortly, and shook her head. She leaned forward a little. "Vada, how was your night?" she asked.

Leia pursed her lips - whether Zune asked out of obligation, or genuine concern, she wasn't sure, but it was a prudent move. Particularly since both Leia and Han had taken jabs at her last night about the social servants' apparent lack of tact and attention.

Vada, who was already visibly more reserved in the presence of the officials, eyed her silently. She nodded her head after a moment.

"Good," she said. "It was cozy."

Kant, wincing, and picking up on Zune's point in showing some concern before hopping right to business, turned to her as well.

"You slept well?"

Vada nodded again.

Kant sat back. He glanced at Zune. She hesitated, and then shrugged, her face flushing slightly.

"Right," Kant said. "As I - was saying. The details to be worked out are not too difficult," he said. "You signed enough of the preliminary paperwork last night. What's left is to explain the exact process of General Solo's evaluation period."

"How long is it?" Leia asked.

"The base amount is six weeks," Zune said.

Leia arched her brows, incredulous.

"That seems short," she remarked. "Six weeks to determine whether a person is suitable to raise a child for the rest of their life?" she asked.

"You have doubts about his ability?" Kant asked edgily.

Han sat forward slightly, tense, and Leia reached out and touched his arm, her expression stony.

"That is not what I said," she said icily. "I will tell you without hesitation that I in fact have no doubts about his ability to be a good father. What I am questioning is your system."

Kant started to say something in return, and Zune broke on.

"Corellians are very proud," she said mildly. "Callum, this isn't the time for posturing. Your Highness, I think...Callum just feels like his home world is being criticized."

Leia gave her a cool look.

"It is," she said, in the same icy tone.

Zune cleared her throat, but continued to speak moderately.

"Six weeks is the base amount of time required. In uncertain situations, we have the authority to extend to twelve, or even to a full year. Six weeks is more of the baseline if the parents are both living and not together, one dies, and there was already a partial custody agreement. Normally, in a case such as this, we would do preliminary vetting of the parent, and the parents' home, before sending the child to stay there - as we tried to explain last night," she said.

Leia gave a short nod.

"What's more common for a case like General Solo's is a twelve week evaluation period, with two periodic check ups within the year after the twelve week period ends, and a final report one year after that. However, if we find that there are no glaring problems whatsoever - that is, outside what is considered normal for an adjustment to something like this - we try to stop being so invasive after six weeks."

Leia compressed her lips - it still seemed frighteningly short. She wasn't doubting Han, and she wasn't scared of having to double down on this as one of Vada's sole caretakers so quickly, but her mind did go to all of the people she'd known over the years who revealed themselves to be dishonest, heinous, or abusive when she did not expect it, and she saw serious problems with such a short evaluation period. What about other children on Corellia who had been handed off to homes judged acceptable after six weeks? She knew that she and Han were good people; they wouldn't hurt Vada. But six weeks...six weeks was a short enough time for any relatively good actor to pretend to be decent.

"Thus far, what I've learned of Corellian policies regarding children is that the honor laws somehow see fit to use prison terms to enforce parenthood, and consider genetics to be the paramount determination of where a child should go, rather than safety and well-being. Not to mention such a heavy assumption is given to the idea that the honor code will be followed that evaluation periods are dangerously short. However," she went on, without allowing herself to be interrupted. "You need not have any concern about myself, Han, or the home where Vada will be living."

Kant grit his teeth, but Zune nodded, smiling wryly.

"She does already look brighter," she murmured, nodding at Vada.

"The flattery is noted," Leia retorted.

Vada tilted her head and shot a look at her father. Han caught her eye, and nodded to encourage her - but mostly, he was busy listening to Leia, and looking at her with admiration. Leia bit her tongue a little, realizing she was hitting so hard on the unfamiliarity of Corellian custody laws because it made her feel more in control - lawmaking was one of her many political niches, after all. Having said her piece, she regretted it at least a little, because she realized it might be interpreted as her trying to get out of this.

She leaned forward, pursing her lips.

"What does the evaluation period consist of?" she asked clearly.

Kant eyed her for a moment, and then sat back, clearing his throat.

"Home visits, to observe how things are going," he said, "and of course ensure the home is safe. Interviews with each person involved - primarily with Vada, she'll see a family therapist a few times, standard practice, who will provide a report, and then General Solo will be subjected to interviews and a psych evaluation, and, ah," he broke off. He glanced at Zune almost nervously, and she cut in for him.

"Your Highness, if you plan on being involved as a parental figure - or, at least, you're a cohabitant," she said hastily, noting the look that crossed Han's face at the assumption. "You will have to undergo interviews and a psych evaluation as well."

Han sat back, rubbing his hand over his jaw thoughtfully. He looked askance at Leia, trying to judge her reaction. He doubted she liked the idea of a psychological evaluation. The Rebellion had conducted them quarterly for all its enlisted personnel, and Han knew Leia had skipped at least two - a rare time she used her influence to get out of something - and was fairly certain she'd failed one, but that had been right after Yavin. Right after Yavin.

"Naturally," Leia agreed, without batting an eyelid. "If I were Vada's mother, I wouldn't want her entrusted to anyone without all the record checks, bells, and whistles."

Han tilted his head back a little. He said nothing, until Kant looked at him.

"You'd agree to what we're laying out so far? Interviews, home inspections? We'll also talk to close associates if we find the need to. Friends, relatives."

Han shrugged edgily.

"Yeah, I agree. Talk to whoever you want. I don't got many close associates, I just got - " he broke off, and clamped his mouth shut. He'd been about to say - a lot of people who'd like to take a shot or a swing at me, but he decided it wasn't in Vada's best interest for him to say that.

"We are...aware of your history, General Solo," Zune said delicately.

"S'not a secret," Han said tersely.

"We're also aware of the grey areas," Zune added. "And you know better than anyone that Corellia's idea of what is just does not always align with what is legal." She inclined her head at the table. "I don't know the reason you were awarded bloodstripes in both degrees, but it does not go unnoticed. This is one reason why social services did want to find you and connect you with Vada when the galaxy stabilized. This," she said, cutting a look at Leia nervously, "is actually not merely a case of us defaulting to the living biological parent, although that is the law - we think it's best, and will turn out well, for Vada to be with you."

Han grunted, shifting a little awkwardly. He lowered his hand from his jaw. The vote of confidence was...encouraging, he supposed, but then again, he didn't think his bloodstripes meant he'd automatically be a good father to a child he'd just learned about. And he didn't think his image in the media aligned so well with who he'd been for years before Leia, and before the Rebellion. Maybe Leia was right, and he was selling himself short - but if they were basing their hopes solely on his current public popularity, that was foolish; the media was as fickle as fire.

"Legally speaking, what happens on record?" Leia asked.

"Well, we can situate pretty much everything today," Kant said. "General Solo will need to sign all additional paperwork that wasn't covered last night, and then I have some secondary guardian papers for you to sign if you'll be in the home. Preferably, if there is anyone Vada may be left with or, eh, babysat by in the interim period of evaluation, we need those names for record checks."

Leia looked at Han, and he tilted his head.

"Chewbacca," he offered warily.

"Luke, too," she murmured - she tried not to think about how Luke would react, but in case of an emergency she did want him vetted. "And, ahh," she thought for a minute. "Carlist."

Han looked surprised.

"Really?"

"He likes you," Leia murmured. "He likes you with me," she added, even quieter. "And, he had children on Alderaan." Leia nodded, and then turned back to give names. "Chewbacca, Carlist Rieekan, and Luke Skywalker."

Both Zune and Kant looked understandably daunted by the names they'd just been given. Zune began making notes on a tablet, but looked up, uncertain.

"Does this...Mr. Chewbacca have a last name?"

Han laughed shortly.

"He's a Wookiee."

"So...no?"

Leia shook her head.

"Use the Kashyyyk central clan database and run Chewbacca bin Attichitcuk. The tribal trees will give you a history of the family, and you'll find no marks on his records, anyway," she said. She paused a beat. "I assume the record checks for Skywalker and Rieekan will go rather quickly for you," she added dryly.

Han was giving her kind of a funny look - mostly because he hadn't been aware Leia was so well versed in how Kashyyyk kept their records. And what had she said - 'bin Attichitcuck?' Apparently noticing Han's wary look, she leaned over to him and said quietly:

"Son of."

Han nodded.

Zune continued making notes, and Kant kept talking:

"You'll be prohibited from taking Vada off planet without prior approval, that is until the evaluation period is up," he said. "When all is said and done at the end of six weeks, we'll either recommend the probation be ended, or extend to twelve and re-evaluate. If you're determined suitable, there won't be any need to go through formal adoption procedures. You're on her birth certificate and she's your blood, so the custody is inherent and legal. If, at the end of all this, you want Vada to take your name, that's a simple name change we can authorize when we end the probation."

He paused, brow furrowing.

"Although Vada Solo...Solo might," he trailed off. "Well, that's something you can discuss with each other," he said, gesturing between Vada and Han. Han smirked a little. He didn't think Visenya would have wanted Vada's surname changed to Solo. That's probably why she'd gave it as the second name - just in case he came along some day.

"Now, at the end of all of this if you," Kant said, turning to Leia, "wish to take on legal guardianship of Vada in any capacity, you will have to go through the courts in either an adoption process or some sort of designation - a proxy for Han, a partial custody, something," he listed. "You'll go through the Corellian courts. The whole process is easier if you're married, but - um, are you? Married?" he asked, gesturing between them.

Zune gave him a warning look.

Leia said nothing, so Han said nothing, and Vada's brow furrowed curiously.

"Ah, well," stammered Kant hastily. "Anyway - you're, um, capable of understanding the law, Your Highness, I know that. You know how it goes."

"Yes," she agreed.

Han sat forward suddenly, his expression guarded.

"But you're not gonna take Vada away 'cause...'cause I live with Leia, yeah?" he asked. He bristled. "'Cause you threw her in a home with a bunch of punks and barely any supervision, so that'd be - "

"No, no," Zune said quickly, waving her hand. "No, we don't have any requirements that mandate you live alone or be married to your partner."

"Right," Han muttered, sitting back. "Good," he said sharply.

Panic was rushing around in his chest. The blunt talk, directed at Leia, right in front of him, of her adopting his kid, being legally bound to his kid, was scaring him because of the kind of pressure it automatically placed on Leia. He didn't want her to feel like she had to do that, had to be - part of this like that. But Sith, he didn't want to lose her either, and a hollow, uncomfortable pit took up residence in his gut when he thought about what he'd do if they asked him right now to choose between Leia, and Vada.

Leia was a grown woman who could take care of herself, but she was also the love of his life, the most incredible relationship he'd ever had - and Vada was a stranger to him right now, even though she had his blood, and his eyes. It was an incongruous choice, anyway; two vastly different situations. Leia was romance and companionship, Vada was a kid that needed parenting -

"Han and I can commit to what needs to be done for you to follow your procedure in vetting him," Leia said. She turned to Vada. "I know seeing a therapist can be difficult," she said gently. "Did you know you might have to see one?" she asked. "Are you okay with that?"

"Unfortunately, there's no way to get around it," Kant said.

Leia gave him a sharp look. He fell silent. She was aware that no matter what, Vada would have to follow these procedures. She also knew that sometimes, just giving the impression that someone had control, or a choice, went a long way in making a scary thing easier. That was something that was true for children, and for many adults who'd experienced trauma, too. Leia knew it too well.

"I knew," Vada said. "I do not mind my head getting looked at," she continued. She shrugged.

Leia nodded. She was quiet for a moment, having an internal conversation with herself. She did not want to see a therapist. She had swiftly ended her sessions with the therapist that Mon Mothma had forced her to see after Alderaan, and she did not like the idea of seeing one again. She felt trapped, but she did not want to do something that would result in a negative experience for this poor little girl, so she swallowed hard, and navigated it her way.

"I have no problem seeing a therapist as required by your program," she said firmly, "but I will only see a female therapist, and I will find one who is reputable, and employed in private practice rather than by your department. She'll submit a report to you."

Han tilted his head, and for a moment, thought Kant or Zune might protest, but eventually Zune shrugged.

"That's no problem."

She made a note, and shook her head when Kant kept glaring at her.

"Callum, we have no reason to believe there's the slightest chance of the Princess fabricating a mental health evaluation," she muttered. She looked up, irritated. "She's in charge of the damn Galaxy."

Kant shrugged stiffly, and sat back, his expression guarded.

"We will do the home visits," Zune explained, "but the individual who interviews all three of you for your opinions and how things are going will be a social worker who hasn't met any of you," she said. "That way, they don't have biases, and can listen objectively and take notes. The interviews will be combined with reports on home visits, and psych evaluation reports - which will not," Zune emphasized firmly, "include any personal information you reveal, but will just be an overly generic recommendation of mental stability versus mental instability, and all will be taken into account to determine at the end of the evaluation period if General Solo is fit."

"If you're determined fit," Kant said, "you'll go before a judge and either swear to custody, or deny responsibility. And at that point, we go into the provisions of what can or will be done if you're found fit and you decline paternal duties," he waved his hand. "I shouldn't say this, but I highly doubt you'll be found incompetent," he said bluntly.

Privately, Leia agreed, but she did not do anything to further that train of thought because Vada was in the room, and she didn't want this to veer into a discussion that implied what really mattered here was whether or not Han and Leia liked her and wanted her. Han was quiet for a little while, too, staring at them with some hostility, because it was easy to project any lingering feelings of anger he had onto them, rather than Vada and Leia, who were innocent in this.

"So," Han said gruffly. "Let's get this stuff signed."

"Hold on," Leia murmured, holding her hand up. "I want your embassy lawyers to draw up a legally binding confidentiality agreement," she said - it was phrased somewhat like it might be a request, but was also clearly an order.

"All social work information and files are confidential - "

"I want all involved barred from even confirming to the press that Han Solo has a child," Leia interrupted. "The agreement should contain a specific list of people who handle Vada's case, and no one should be added to it who refuses to sign a confidentiality agreement or without notifying myself and Han first."

Zune and Kant looked startled, and Leia inclined her head.

"Before you protest that I am being paranoid, this is for Vada's sake, and for her safety," she insisted. "You are not ignorant to the attention Han and I sometimes get in the media. In fact, you used it to determine that you'd most likely nail down an address for Han by finding me," she pointed out dryly. "It's difficult enough for us to deal with constant public scrutiny; surely you understand that I - that Han," she corrected, inserting him as the main protector consciously, so he'd start to see himself that way, "doesn't want Vada exposed to any harassment or badgering for as long as he can possibly keep her safe from it. This is not to keep her a secret or keep her locked up," Leia emphasized, "but it is to ensure that she can try to get acclimated without that added burden."

Zune nodded, tilting her head.

"I don't think it will be difficult to arrange that," she said. "But, please do be aware that we can't delete public records such as her birth certificate, or classify them, without a national security reason."

"That's fine," Leia said. "I understand that. I just want to ensure that everyone agrees to suffering significant consequences for speaking to the media. When it becomes necessary, I am the only person who will speak to the press regarding this."

Zune nodded again, silently affirming. Kant shrugged, and then nodded - sounded fine to him, as well. He hated the press, and he already hated the attention social services would get when this got out. Pleased that they took no issue with it, Leia relaxed a little.

"Thank you," she said, letting that sit for a minute. "I grew up with a great deal of intergalactic media attention focused on me," she said finally. "Protecting her from the spotlight is...not just a power play."

"Of course not," Zune said.

She fell silent for a moment, and then leaned forward on her elbow.

"We have the proper release forms ready to go for more in-depth information - Vada's entire foster care file, all records from doctors and schools prior to Miss Vardalos' death, disciplinary reports from the home," she listed. "We also - and it's in my office, I'll get it shortly - have a sealed note for you from Visenya Vardalos."

Han started.

"Me?" he asked, and then a few seconds later, felt sheepish; of course it was for him. Who did he think it was for, Leia? The Emperor?

Zune just nodded.

"It was kept in a jewelry box of hers with some other documents, including the amended hard copy of the birth certificate," she explained. "It has your name on it and a wax seal, which has not been broken as we assumed her intention was that only you see it."

Han struggled to process that, staring at the woman. Then he furrowed his brow a little.

"What happened to the jewelry box?" he asked. He turned, sharply. "You get to keep that, Vada?" he asked.

Vada shook her head.

"It got lost," she said quietly.

"Someone stole it from you at the home?" Han asked.

"No," Vada said. She shrugged. "It got lost."

"It wasn't removed from Miss Vardalos' dwelling after she died," Kant said slowly. "It may have been, ah," he paused delicately. "There were debts," he said vaguely.

Han frowned. He remembered Visenya having a hell of a lot of nice things, most inherited from the rich family she'd come from. The jewelry box likely would have been worth a lot, but it was even more likely that it was an heirloom, and if these social workers had kept a letter safely stored and untouched for all this time, surely they could have kept something like that for Vada to have. He wasn't sure why he was fixating on it, except that he knew, he knew, how much Leia missed little things like that, little keepsakes and heirlooms and trinkets, and so he was sensitive to Vada maybe missing something from her life with her mother as well.

Especially since she was so abruptly being thrown into his life, and everything else was pretty much ripped out from under her.

Vada swiveled in her chair a little, looking away from the social workers darkly. Leia noticed, and cleared her throat softly.

"Can we proceed with everything?" she asked. "Han and I have plenty of other arrangements to make," she said vaguely.

Namely, she had to set up an appointment with Mon, who had been downright panicked over Leia's call this morning telling her she was taking a few days of personal leave. In Mon's defense, the move was sudden, and unprecedented, so Leia wanted to talk to her again and calm her down, while also planning to get together and explain things. She wanted Han to introduce Chewie and Vada, so that support system could get started, and she needed to take time to plan some sort of way to deal with the public - she needed to tell Luke, or rather, wanted to, and at some point, it might be nice, to have - a minute alone, to process all this.

"Yes, of course," Zune said neatly, standing. Kant followed suit, and Zune beckoned to Han. "If you'll come with us, General Solo, we'll handle all of your documents and signatures first, and then move on with Princess Leia and Vada - and I'll make a call to our lawyers for the confidentiality agreement..."

Leia nodded her head as the woman trailed off, and brushed her hand against Han's gently, and encouragingly, as he stood up to go with them. After a moment, left alone with the big conference room with Vada, Leia swiveled her chair towards her, taking a deep breath. Vada drew her legs up in her chair, hugging them, and looking back at Leia sort of sheepishly, but earnestly, as if she were trying to share a moment with her - she just wasn't sure what kind of moment, or how. There was a generational gulf between them, and in that gulf, plenty other things to be gently wary of.

Still, Leia felt a need to make her feel welcome, and safe. She knew what it was like to be homeless, and unsure of where she'd land when all the chaos was through. So, she cleared her throat, and said:

"Can you help me with my Corellian?"

Vada perked up a little, interested. She nodded, resting her chin on her knees.

"What words do you want to learn most?" she asked happily.

Leia smiled, and breathed out slowly, wracking her brains for some fun vocabulary.

Han wasn't exactly sure why the idea of telling Chewbacca about all of this somehow felt as damning as telling his – his mother, or something similar. It was absurd for many reasons; most significantly, his mother had died long before something like this was a possibility she could warn him about, and she hadn't been much of a disciplinarian, anyway. He also didn't think he viewed Chewie as any kind of mother or father figure, so why the hell he was standing here like a chastised schoolboy – he'd never been a chastised schoolboy by any definition, anyway.

Perhaps it was because Chewbacca was so honorable in all he did, and there had always been jokes in the Rebellion that the big, kind-hearted, noble Wookiee was Han's walking conscience, which was somewhat true, to an extent –

The point was, he was sitting in front of Chewbacca like he was facing the father of a girl he'd just been caught with or somethin.' Arms folded tightly, shoulders stiff, he'd sat down in the cockpit of the Falcon and started with:

"Hey, pal, I got to tell you somethin.' Somethin' kinda…alarming."

[Alarming? That is a Leia word. What did you do?]

Usually, a comment like that would have riled Han up into a petty argument, but he just raised his eyebrows a little grimly. It was a Leia word, and he didn't have the energy to spar with Chewie, because he was still fighting his own internal battles.

So, he'd just blurted it out, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

"Turns out…I got a kid," he said, glancing up warily. "Found out last night. S'why Leia kept callin' me yesterday. Social services, from Corellia, they brought her to Leia," he explained, and started giving bits and pieces of last night's events in a choppy narrative.

He trailed off, when no shocked roar interrupted him, no grumbles of confusion – he stopped, staring at Chewbacca, and the Wookiee stared back at him alertly, his head tilted a little to the side, his expression unreadable. Han blinked, sitting up straighter.

"You deaf?" he asked him. "Did you hear me, Chewie?" He pointed inwards at himself, incredulous. "I got a kid."

Chewbacca gave him a doleful blink, and after a moment, nodded his head solemnly.

[I heard,] he rumbled, matter-of-fact. He paused. [I am wondering why you are shocked.]

Han stared at him, confused. He cocked his head as if he couldn't hear.

"What?" he asked, affronted.

Chewbacca lifted his shoulders in a heavy shrug, still looking thoughtful.

[You spread your seed all over the place,] Chewbacca remarked mildly. [I thought you had at least some awareness that this was how younglings are made.]

Han made an uncomfortable squawking noise, his face twisting up sourly.

"I – not without – protection – Chewie," he snarled. "I know how babies – " he broke off again, glaring. "I wasn't sleepin' around without usin' stuff to prevent that," he argued tensely.

Chewbacca gave him another sage blink.

[Humans always act shocked with this sort of thing occurs, despite the fact that copulation is for that purpose.] He remarked. [Has it ever occurred to you that you likely have more than one you do not know about?]

"Chewbacca," Han growled. "You tryin' to be funny?"

[No,] Chewbacca retorted. He arched a thick brow. [I simply find it to be the height of hubris that some species think they can interfere with a basic function that drives species' survival without routine accidents.] He paused, and then cocked his head. [You said my name in a very angry, paternal tone just then.] He noted.

Han scowled, agitated. He sat forward sharply, and rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands over his face. He took a few deep breaths, trying to figure out how to make Chewbacca understand.

[Humans are notoriously promiscuous,] Chewbacca offered. [This is commonplace, for your species.]

Han slapped his hands down, thrusting them out.

"Okay, pal, I get it, there's cultural differences," he snapped. "But – "

[And you used to be very popular with females of your species, before you mated with Leia.]

"I – yeah, I been with…a few…many…women – what do you mean 'used to be' – " Han broke off again, shaking his head. He held up one hand for silence. "Chewie," he muttered, his tone growing strained, and serious. "Take it easy on me," he asked dully.

He swallowed hard and sighed hard.

"This sorta thing happens, yeah," he said. "I get that. Doesn't mean it's not a shock when it happens to you," he said aggressively. "And I watched myself pretty close," he muttered. "I wasn't real careful about a lot but that I was," he was almost arguing with himself now. "I guess, 'cept for a couple times after…Bria," he trailed off with a harsh groan, rubbing his brow. "Or when I was drunk."

Chewbacca listened, still thoughtful, and still calm – and Han tried to decide if he was irritated with the calm, or happy with it. Leia had been about that calm too – for different reasons. Hers was training; Chewbacca's was a vast lack of similarity in culture. Wookiees imprinted once, mated for life, and had different intimacy rituals separate from their reproductive acts.

He took a deep breath again.

"Here's what I'm tellin' ya," he said. "I've got a kid. She's seven, gonna be eight soon. And her mom died, so I have to take care of her now, 'cause of Corellia's laws. She's with me and Leia now and that's…about all I got, so far," he finished.

He shook his head, shrugged.

"She likes Corellian hotcakes," he said. "And, uh, she seems real smart." He paused again. "Oh, and, uh…she looks like me. Got my eyes."

He stared down at his hands for a little while, and when Chewbacca didn't say anything for a long time, he looked up. His old friend and co-pilot was staring at him intently, obviously processing his own reaction in a different way. He made a gentle snuffing noise and nodded.

[I understand…differently,] he began slowly, less smugly amused, and more sober. [This child has lost her mother and is with you now. That is…sudden,] he said.

"Yeah," Han said dryly.

[She cannot be…Bria's?] Chewbacca asked, wary.

"Nah," Han said dismissively – he noted that he didn't have much difficulty discussing Bria anymore, he hadn't in a while. Somewhere along the line, he'd coped with her death, and grown up. He figured the only problem now was that in a way – the reckless, downward spiral he'd been in after she died resulted in Vada.

In a way. Maybe.

[Seven years,] grunted Chewie. [Ah. Visenya? Or Alamantha?]

Han rubbed his jaw, sitting back heavily. He nodded.

"Visenya," he said. He furrowed his brow. "You got a damn good memory," he added edgily. The other woman Chewbacca mentioned – well; now Han had half a mind to track her down and ask 'hey, you hide any kids from me?'

Chewbacca shrugged.

[That time was memorable. You were hurting quite a bit.]

Han shrugged dismissively. It had been a long time ago.

[So,] Chewbacca reflected. [You bred with Visenya Vardalos.]

"No," Han protested immediately. "No – why're you always sayin' stuff so…clinical?" he griped. "You gotta learn to translate better into Basic."

[That is what you did!]

"No," Han snapped again, "'cause when you say it like that, it sounds deliberate, and I didn't mean to do this – and as far as I know, Senny didn't either." He arched his brows. "That woman wanted no responsibility. She didn't want to pay attention to a damn thing – why the hell do you think I was havin' so much fun with her back then?"

Chewbacca tilted his head a little sarcastically.

[She might have thought it would be a lark.]

Han laughed roughly.

"Good one," he muttered – Visenya sure as hell had been sort of a whimsical decision maker.

He sighed heavily.

"I don't know what she was thinkin' or what she was doin,'" he said. "All I got is a letter she left, before she died, and I haven't even read it yet 'cause I'm afraid I won't like what it says," he confessed grimly.

That, and he and Leia had been busy – doing things, and then, doing more things to try and keep busy.

Chewbacca leaned forward, contorting himself into a very human pose to put himself closer to Han. He watched his friend carefully, reading signs of stress and worry on his face, and Chewie frowned, concerned about him.

[How is Leia taking this?] He asked carefully.

Han laughed shortly.

"That's the thing, Chewie, she's takin' it pretty well," he said. "She's calm, she's takin' control – she told off the social workers last night, she told 'em we lived together, to make sure we took Vada home and she didn't have to stay in a hotel," he shook his head in disbelief. "She's bein' great. Like it doesn't even faze her."

[She is commendable in a crisis,] Chewie said. [And she loves you. Of course a thing like this would not change that.]

Han sighed, his head rolling back on the chair.

"I hope not, buddy," he grumbled tiredly.

Chewbacca eyed him protectively.

"Right now, I'm more worried about Leia, and maybe losin' her, and I feel bad about that," he muttered.

It was nice to say it out loud, and Chewbacca was a safe person to say it to. The Wookiee was silent for a bit, and then sat back a little.

[Well, I am not an expert in how humans handle this, but I do not think you should worry about losing Leia,] he said sagely. [She is a strong woman. She can handle this.]

Han didn't say anything right away. Chewie was right; Leia was strong. She could handle a lot – and she obviously could handle this, he just didn't want her to have to. The idea that something of his might cause her stress or worry was abhorrent to him. She'd been through enough.

[Vada?] Chewbacca ventured curiously after a moment. [That is her name?]

"Hmm? Ah, yeah," Han grunted. "Vada Solo Vardalos," he said. "Visenya gave 'er my name as a second, you believe that?"

Chewbacca grumbled a little laugh.

[Visenya has died?] he asked.

Han sobered.

"Consumption," he said gruffly. "'Losis infection." He gestured to his chest, rubbing his knuckles against his ribs to show Chewie where she would have been affected. "Kills fast. It's a street disease," he said, detached from it.

He thought it a grim reality that Visenya was dead; she wasn't old enough for it. He hadn't thought about her in years, though, and he felt little true grief at the loss. It bothered him for Vada's sake, because he knew what it was like to lose a mother so young – and of course, it had changed his life irrevocably.

[And so you will take care of this youngling now?] Chewbacca went on.

"It's kind of complicated, but it's got to do with our laws, Corellian laws," he explained tiredly. "That's the gist of it, though. She's gonna stay with me, live with me and…Leia, for now."

He added the 'for now' because he wasn't sure if the arrangement would last. Things were the way they were now, but surely in a few days, Leia would wake up to the reality, come to her senses, and realize this was insane, this was too much for her, wasn't what she'd signed up for – and she'd ask him to get his own apartment, and it would all end.

"The law's gonna evaluate me and stuff," he said. "Make sure I'm a…good…father… for her."

Chewbacca nodded in understanding, considering that.

[It is not easy to be a father, even when you are ready,] he said sagely, thinking of his own cub. [And it is hard when you do not see your cub often, I know that struggle well.] Chewbacca did not stop there, though. [You will not be found wanting, Han,] Chewie said confidently. [I have seen you care for people even when you do not want to, or do not think you want to, and you are good at it. You will be able to do this.]

Han looked at him intently, taken aback, but comforted. He swallowed hard, opening his mouth to speak, and hesitating.

"Uh, thanks, Chewie," he said gruffly.

Chewbacca inclined his head.

[You smell like fear,] he added mildly.

"Thanks, Chewie," Han retorted – this time, it was a growl, and his old friend grinned.

Chewbacca lunged forward and ruffled Han's hair pointedly, growling something about seeing the look on Malla's face when she found out. Han scowled, sure that Chewie's mate would react about the same way he had – with a distinctly Wookiee-ish lack of surprise.

[Where is your youngling now?] Chewbacca asked.

"She's, uh, been with Leia. Gettin' some clothes," he said. "She didn't have much when they brought her. 'Cause she was in a home."

Chewbacca frowned deeply. He was familiar with that sort of thing because he knew of Han's childhood experiences, and he'd been around the galaxy enough to see that many humanoid species had those sorts of places on their planets. It baffled and saddened him. In his culture, children who tragically lost their parents were happily taken in by neighboring clans and fostered with equal care. He didn't understand what sort of detached cruelty drove humans to just dump their lost young in massive homes and neglect them. He knew that Han was likely beating himself up over the idea of this youngling in a home, because he had such a bad time in one.

[It is nice she is with Leia,]Chewie rumbled. [A maternal figure will be nice for her right now.]

Han shifted uncomfortably.

"Don't...put it like that, Chewie," he said warily. "Leia's not...that's not her responsibility and 'sides, Vada may not like the idea of her mom bein' replaced."

[I thought you said Leia was handling this well?]

"Well, yeah, but handling it well's a pretty huge leap away from bein' a mother to her," Han said dryly. He rubbed his temples. "Leia's," he ticked his fingers up and down, thinking, frowning. "Kriff," he muttered. "Kriff. Leia's not even twenty years older than this kid," he mumbled. "She's not even old enough," he growled.

Chewbacca cocked his head.

[That is not true. Your species has plenty of incidents of adolescent parenthood,]he pointed out logically. [Your mother was seventeen, was she not?]

Han grunted. He shook his head - though not at that; Chewie was right, his own mother had been a teenager when he was born.

"You know, people already think I'm too old for her, and not good enough for her, and now this gets thrown at her - they went to her first, Chewie. They went to her apartment and told her and she had to tell me - so, what, the Empire took most'a her youth, and I'm just gonna take the rest of it now? 'Cause I got this kid who I can't - I can't not take care of 'er, I can't let them put her back in a sith-be-damned home," he said edgily. "But I can't lose Leia," he said, voice strained. "I can't."

Chewbacca reached out with his paw and rested it gently on Han's shoulder, shaking him a little, and giving him a stern, stoic look.

[You should not be so certain this will break you and Leia up,] he said firmly.[Nor should you be certain she will leave you or not want to be a part of this. Life can be difficult sometimes. My advice to you, Han, is...do notinadvertently make decisions for Leia because you assume things are a certain way.]

Han looked up at him wearily.

[Do you understand what I am saying?] Chewbacca asked intently. [She is an intelligent woman capable of knowing what she wants and making her own choices, so do not do anything stupid. You know that she may feel the same way? She may not necessarily want this, but she may be similarly frightened that she will lose you?]

Chewbacca palmed Han's shoulder again, a little roughly, but still comforting.

[You must listen to each other.] Chewbacca advised solemnly. [Having young is an effort in expanding a relationship to include different dynamics of love, anyway. This is just a unique way of that happening.]

Han turned his head to look at Chewie's paw. The big guy's words were smart, that was for sure. A lot of what he said made sense - but some of it, Han worried, was too informed by the tenets of his own culture. Han understood the value of not making any decisions for Leia - he'd never do that - but he also thought Chewie might underestimate how sometimes, relationships could fail even if the love was there.

"S'just," Han started, sighing. He pointed at himself. "I never wanted to be the reason she was stressed out or anything, you know? I wanna be thelast thing that causes her problems."

Chewbacca gave an understanding nod. He thought Han might be underestimating Leia. But he also acknowledged that there were complexities to human culture and human relationships he did not always understand. Han tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling of the Falcon, frowning.

"Why'd you think Visenya didn't tell me, Chewie?" he asked darkly.

He wasn't sold on Leia's rosy opinion of him. He figured he was glad she wasn't disappointed in him, but he had his doubts about what he would have done back then, and Leia's arguments to the contrary fell on partially deaf ears.

Chewie tilted his head back and forth with a shrug.

[Visenya was fickle,] he remembered. [She never took anything seriously. If I had to guess, I would say that she did not tell you because she did not want to go through the effort of trying to reach you, or she did not want to share the little girl.]

Han raised his eyebrows a little, thoughtful. That was an interesting take.

"So, y'don't think it was because she thought I was - "

[Bad?] Chewbacca supplied. He snorted. [Visenya liked you. And you were not any worse than her.]

Han shrugged. Maybe that was true.

[Could be it was just easier not to tell,]Chewie said pointedly.

Han nodded.

[I do not think it is worth it to dwell on something you can never know the answer to,] he offered.[It will not be helpful to what matters now.]

"Yeah," Han muttered, thinking of Visenya's sealed letter.

He had tucked it away, avoiding opening it for now. He wondered if Vada knew what was in it, or if it would be okay to share it with her. Maybe that much would be contained within the note. He sat forward, running his hands over his face and resting his elbows on his knees. He let out a deep breath.

"S'good to tell you," he said dryly. "You're the first of a couple to know - and most of 'em ain't gonna be as cool headed about it," he added.

Leia had decided to talk to Mon Mothma as soon as possible, and of course, she wanted Luke to know as well. She guessed they probably had a week or two, a month at the most, before at least some sort of remark had to be made, though it could be as vague as possible. Leia said the only thing that would keep them from making no remark at all was that the press could sometimes be kept in check if they were thrown at least a small bone; without any information at all, the situation might get out of control - and of course, it was senseless to smother Vada by hiding her, or expect her to deal with fervent attention if it came to that.

Han looked up.

"You want to come up and meet her?" he asked, glancing at the control systems on the dash. "Leia should be back soon."

Pleased, Chewbacca nodded. He was very interested in the idea of meeting a cub of Han's, even if it was unexpected and unplanned. He had generally assumed if this ever happened, it would be with the Princess, but as he'd expressed initially - such an occurrence was not particularly shocking to him. It wasn't that he thought Han irresponsible per se, it was just that in the Wookiee's mind, multiple partners and multiple sexual acts were bound to result in an accident, especially when Han's lifestyle had not always been conservative or stable. He took a moment to be quietly grateful that for Wookiees, it was impossible to accidentally have a cub. It was an entirely different act than the one they used for pleasure. Much better system, really. Evolution had blessed them - evolution was obviously still playing absurd and illogical jokes with humans.

Still, Han was visibly upset. His core was shaken, and Han could be reckless when he was shaken. He was better these days, but Chewbacca quietly made a promise to himself to make sure he kept a weather eye on Han's horizon, and was there to knock some sense into him if he got it into his head to make a mess of a good thing.

Standing, Chewbacca gave another shaggy nod, and curled his lips back in a proud smirk.

[I will cook for her,] he declared. [The best way to meet someone is over food.]

Chewbacca was right; the best way to meet someone was over food. That way, one could pretend any awkward silences were really just people chewing – or at least, that's what Leia had pointed out to him when he commed her and relayed Chewbacca's cooking suggestion.

She had pointed out that the reason so many diplomatic events were couched in dances or banquets were to provide other things to do amidst discussions and debates. Han supposed he saw the merit in that, given that his usual solution was to just leave the awkward situation. That never had really proved a great way to handle things.

It couldn't be the way he handled things, anyway.

For what it was worth, Vada seemed very excited to meet Chewbacca. Leia had told her he was coming over and wanted to cook for the evening, and reported that Vada asked all kinds of smart, perceptive questions about the right way to greet a Wookiee and what cultural nuances she should be aware of. Leia sounded delighted with the conversation they'd had, which eased Han's anxiety a little.

And, when he got home, he found Vada was no longer in the drab uniform frock she'd been issued at the home, and instead clothed in a nice, neat new outfit that Leia had procured for her.

Because they'd gone out shopping during the day, in more elite boutiques, Leia felt they'd mostly escaped the notice of the press – as the press was not looking for her in high-end clothing shops during political hours. Han eyed the pricy clothing with a wary look, wondering at it, and said something to Leia about paying her back.

She looked at him like she'd murder him if he ever said something like that again, so he shut up about it real quick.

But that was just another thing that burrowed into his head and worried him – he knew Leia was financially set for a hundred lifetimes, and frankly, had been since the day she was adopted by the Organas, but that didn't mean he liked the idea of her financing things for his kid. There was nothing hyper masculine about it, it was just that – Vada was his responsibility, and finances were another thing that he and Leia hadn't really discussed in terms of their relationship and merging them.

It was yet another conversation that might be forced too early. And it had taken such a long time for he and Leia to get where they were, he'd been content with using peacetime to – take it slow.

"So, how long, um, Miss Leia," Han heard Vada saying, her voice faraway, "did it take you to understand Chewbacca and his words? His language."

"Well," Leia responded, her voice soft, and thoughtful. "It starts with understanding tone. Then, the gist of the languages comes, then specific sounds are more recognizable."

"Gist?"

"Ahh, essence, the feeling or idea of the words."

"Thank you. Maybe I will understand him in, maybe, six weeks?"

Chewbacca laughed gently, and Han smiled a little. Rubbing his forehead, he sat at Leia's desk in her home office– eavesdropping, really. He'd cleared plates after dinner – and dinner was going well, very well. Things were polite, light, and, he thought, cautious, without being entirely uncomfortable. He figured that was really all they could ask for, it only being the second day she was here.

He felt a little better, too, having gotten some of his tension out in his talk with Chewbacca. The big guy was smart as hell; even paternal, sometimes. Different species or not, Han might have to learn some things from him.

That's why he'd felt he could slip away for a second to go over some of the files that had finally all been bundled together and sent over. He thought learning some more might clear his head, or give him a better understanding of how to move forward. He was staring at a lot of it vaguely, with glazed over eyes, though.

At the sound of a throat softly clearing, he looked up to find Leia standing in the doorway, watching him with calm, thoughtful eyes.

"I offered Chewie some kaf," she said. "Do you want any?"

He shook his head. He folded his arms and leaned back in her chair, frowning – not at her, at himself. He was torn between going back in there and looking at all this later, and staying here and forcing himself to absorb it so he could really, really buckle down on things. It seemed like a difficult choice, and he hesitated.

"Things, uh, still goin' okay?" he asked gruffly. "You teachin' her Shriywook?" he asked, smiling a little.

"She's determined to learn," Leia murmured, tilting her head curiously. "What are you doing in here?" she asked.

Han waved his hand tensely.

"Lookin' over her stuff, her files," he grunted. He hesitated, and then started to get up. "Sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't be…leavin' you guys alone with 'er, that's, uh, not your job – "

Leia shook her head, pushing away from the wall. She came forward, and put her hand on his arm, pushing him back into the chair. She walked around behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders, massaging his muscles, and leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"We're here to help," she said. She tilted her head to the side, resting her cheek on his head for a moment. "And, by my understanding of Wookiee Life Debts, it is, quite literally, part of Chewbacca's job now."

Han blinked. He groaned, hanging his head – he hadn't considered that. Thinking about Chewbacca's sacred debt practices always made him a little edgy, because he never liked the idea of being served just because he'd done one decent thing, but that it meant Chewie was now beholden to his daughter, too, when Chewie rarely even saw his own cub?

Han grimaced, and Leia tapped his cheek, stepping back, but leaving her hands to rest on his shoulders.

"Don't make that face," she chastised. "It's his culture. Respect it. Value it," she added.

Han sighed. He leaned back a little.

"Read what you need to," Leia said. "It might make things clearer. Have you…read that note yet? From Vada's mother?"

Han shook his head.

"No," he muttered.

He tensed a little. Leia hesitated, rolling her palm against his shoulder.

"Scared of what it might say?" she asked quietly.

"Not scared," Han retorted edgily.

"Oh, of course," Leia replied smoothly. "You never are, are you, hotshot?"

There was a soothing, teasing tone to her voice, and Han smiled a little, tilting his head up. The thing was – he didn't want to spend all his time after Vada went to bed poring over these files, because he wanted to spend that time with Leia. But he also figured that now he had to start accounting for time spent with Vada – he had to start considering that pushing her aside for Leia would be damaging, wouldn't it?

"Have you learned anything pertinent?" Leia murmured.

Han shrugged.

"Visenya died of 'Losis infection," he told her. "That's, uh, lung infection, common on the streets in Corellia. My Ma probl'y died of it, but I don't r'member," he said. "You get it, you're dead, justa matter of time."

He paused, and glanced down at the datapad.

"Says she changed the birth certificate 'bout three months before she died, so I guess she went pretty fast," he revealed. "And, says Vada was in school, had good attendance, until Visenya died."

Leia rubbed his shoulders continuously.

"What does it say about the relatives who refused to take her in?" she asked in a dark, crisp voice.

Han snorted dryly.

"Not much," he muttered. "Most of that's redacted. Probl'y had a solicitor pay the courts."

Leia made a tsking noise with her tongue.

"Ain't much from the home, either," Han continued heavily. "No disciplinary reports, no reports of bullying…a few files on her doin' well in their half-assed education systems."

As he spoke, his words sounded foreign to him – all of this vocabulary was probably common to people who had children, but to him, who did not – or hadn't, until precisely one day ago – it was absurd.

"Good thing is," he went on gruffly, "child services never had to step in when she was with Visenya, which kinda," he trailed off, grimacing.

"Surprises you?" Leia asked gently, after he failed to finish.

Han shrugged edgily.

"I dunno, she was just," he started, trailing off. "She wasn't stupid, she was just," he trailed off again. "High maintenance and…flaky."

Leia nodded, digesting that. She'd known women – and men – who had frivolous attitudes towards life, who could be forgetful and whimsical and unrealistic. As she pieced together things said by Vada, and Han, even though they hadn't said much yet, she pegged Visenya Vardalos as that type. She didn't think negatively of it, necessarily, she was just curious.

"I mean, mostly I can't believe she had a damn kid," Han muttered, shaking is head. "Doesn't make a damn ounce of sense," he added tersely. "Just seemed like the kind of woman who'd take the other route."

Leia's hands stopped moving on his shoulders.

"What kind of woman is that?" she asked. Her voice was mild, but he sensed sharpness underneath it, and he turned slightly, looking up at her with a furrowed brow.

"I just mean I wouldn't have expected her to have a kid," he said slowly. "Don't mean it makes her bad to do the other thing."

"The other thing? Have an abortion?" Leia asked crisply.

Han blinked.

"Leia, am I steppin' in somethin' here?" he asked bluntly. "'M not tryin' to insult you or her. You don't – there somethin' you're not tellin' me?" he asked warily.

She shook her head, her jaw relaxing a little.

"No," she said flatly. "I – don't like the idea of a 'type' or 'kind' of woman," she admitted. "I," she paused, sighing. "I had a friend, on Alderaan. She loved children. She wanted them. But she got pregnant when she was sixteen and she had an abortion. She just…wasn't ready. So what I'm saying is – "

"That's what I'm sayin', that Visenya was pretty much not ready, ever – "

"Yes," Leia interrupted firmly, "but I think, for most women, the reality of what she'd choose does not become reality until that choice actually has to be made." Leia shrugged. "Maybe your Visenya saw things differently when she got pregnant."

Han shifted nervously at her words.

"Don't call 'er that,' he muttered. "She wasn't mine. It wasn't like that."

He frowned.

"So you're sayin' maybe it made her get serious, but she didn't want to tell me?" he asked sourly.

"Maybe it wasn't about you," Leia said. "It could have been about wanting a baby, and you just happened to be the guy who knocked her up."

Han blinked. Despite himself, he laughed at Leia's blunt analysis, and she smiled ruefully. He turned and leaned forward, elbows on the desk. Leia's hands slid off him, and she turned, perching on the edge of her desk.

"I didn't intend to lash out at you," she said. "You have to be careful with how you talk about women, especially if it's her mother," she said softly. "In case Vada overhears."

She paused, and then arched an eyebrow at him.

"Well, and to be decent in general," she snorted.

Han ran his hand over his jaw and smiled tiredly.

"Thought you said I was decent."

Leia leaned forward and touched his hand, then touching his jaw, and running her hand back through his hair.

"Han," she sighed. "You are decent. There are just nuances to decency, sometimes. I'm sorry, I'm just – "

"No, no," he muttered quickly. "Don't apologize – you're stressed, yeah? Freaked out? Like I am?"

Leia smiled grimly in agreement.

"Say what you want. Don't apologize," Han said.

She leaned back on her hands and watched him, feet dangling.

"I'm speaking to Mon tomorrow morning," she offered. She hesitated. "In addition to this, I'll be telling her I'm taking some time away from work."

That didn't register for a moment. Han just nodded – then he looked up sharply.

"What, for me?" he asked tensely. "You can't – Leia, you love your work, you can't – "

She shook her head slowly until he quieted, and then compressed her lips thoughtfully.

"It isn't just for you," she promised. "This is a good excuse, but I had toyed with the idea anyway. Even after the end of the war, we all hit the ground running, and things are calmer now. I need to recover."

She pursed her lips.

"Selfish as it is, I'd rather tell Mon I'm taking a break for this than tell her I need to get my head straight. To rest."

Han looked at her for a long time, silent.

"S'not selfish," he said gruffly. "You sure you're okay, Sweetheart? Is this…is this, uh, if it's too much," he started, his voice going hoarse despite himself. "I can't do that to you, I can't be the thing that's makin' stuff too hard, so I can find a place, I can – "

"No, no, no," she murmured, calm, but firm. "It is not – Han, it's not like that. I love you. I love you, Han," she reiterated. "I already told you that."

Han nodded. He bowed his head for a moment, staring at the files, the datapad, and the unopened wax-sealed letter. He listened hard, and heard Chewbacca rumbling, snuffling with laughter in the next room. He arched his eyebrows, wondering what they were doing if Vada couldn't understand him.

"Leia," he said finally his voice low. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

Leia nodded.

"Why," he said heavily, "aren't you losing your mind about this?"

She straightened a little.

"Han, we've been over this."

"No, we haven't," he corrected, siting up straight and holding her gaze. "Not really. I said you were bein' calm, I didn't ask you why. Why?"

Leia sighed, and she seemed to struggle, her mouth turning down slightly at the corners. She knew that most of the reason she was able to keep irrational anger at bay was because she genuinely didn't feel it – everything about Han's reaction, and Han's shock, told her that he honestly had not known about this. He was as ambushed as she was, and she just wasn't the type to get furious at him because one night, seven years ago, he – or some woman – had forgotten to use contraceptives.

It wasn't her style. And it wasn't her style to get mad at a child, either. Her style was what made her a good diplomat – she tended to place blame where it belonged, even if it went against instinctive feelings.

Yet there was also a part of her that was so sensitive to inescapable family connections and accidents of birth right now that she couldn't bear to look down on him or be angry, because – because –

"Because all I can think about right now is how understanding you were when I told you about Vader," Leia answered. "And how you didn't think about yourself even for a second when I needed you so badly, and I was so scared it would chase you off."

Han twitched his shoulder.

"That's different, though," he retorted. "That's not your fault. You can't help that."

"Han, this isn't really your fault, either – "

Han looked at her incredulously.

"I got another woman – "

"I know that," Leia interrupted tersely. " I know. Believe it or not, I was well aware you'd had sex with women other than myself," she noted dryly. "And you didn't do this yesterday. She's nearly eight years old. I heard the same story you did – this Visenya did not try to tell you, and given that, you couldn't have known. So please, try to stop making me be angry with you. I don't want to be."

Han sighed, frustrated. He clamped his mouth shut.

"You have to think of it this way," Leia murmured. "You were tortured by Vader. He hunted you, he hurt you, he made an enemy of you – you had to have some visceral reaction to knowing how closely connected I was to him; it's human. Just like I know I can't help who my father is, but I'm still disgusted with myself sometimes. It's just…inherent. The distinction lies in not allowing knee-jerk emotions to control your reactions."

She hesitated. She seemed like she might say something else, but she didn't – whether she decided it wasn't the right time, or she decided it wasn't worth saying. She swallowed hard instead, and sighed again.

"Move on from this line of thinking, Han," she advised.

He swallowed hard.

"Okay."

She nodded, and leaned forward. She took his chin in her hand, and kissed him, long, but light.

"Kaffe," she murmured, standing. "You sure you don't want any?"

He shook his head, leaning back. Leia nodded.

"Don't hide in here all night," she advised lightly, and then – in the doorway – she paused. "Oh – and I called Luke. He knows you have something to tell him."

Han grimaced a little, and nodded – he'd likely do that tomorrow, while she met with Mon. Luke – and Carlist - -were the final two people who they wanted in the fold immediately, and Carlist primarily because he was Han's boss, and usually on Han's side with the High Command.

"And read that note," Leia added sternly, pointing sharply at the desk.

Han nodded again, watching her go. He heard an exclamation of excitement from Vada as she reappeared, and didn't know if that made him feel relieved, happy, or anxious – or all three.

Pushing the datapad aside, and picked up the sealed note left for him, and stared at it. It had handwriting on it, loopy calligraphy in a trained hand, reading simply: Han Solo. He had no idea what could possibly be written in this thing. Knowing Visenya, it could just as easily be a long, flowery diatribe as it could be a short, nonsense joke.

Biting the inside of his lip tersely, he tore open the seal and slid out the stationery. He unfolded it in one sharp motion, and rested his chin in his hand to read it. It wasn't much. It wasn't much at all – but it was powerful.

Han,
Our fling was never more than that because I never cared much about anything
but you cared a lot about many things, even if you pretended not to.
Please care about her.
-Senny.

He swallowed hard, reading and re-reading the words. It was more astute than he'd ever heard Visenya be when he was with her, and he was startled to realize she had seen more in him than even he had, back then – or even than he saw now, when he looked back on himself.

Please care about her.

It was such a simple directive.

Reading it, some of Han's nerves and hesitancy evaporated. He was by no means confident, that much was for sure, but the weight on his shoulders became something made of determination, rather than apprehension and reluctance to confront the situation.

Vada was a little girl, and she was his little girl, regardless of when he'd found out about her, or what this meant for the future. That mattered, and that had to be front and center in his mind right now, and it had to inform his actions. He had to find a way to situate that in the life he also wanted with Leia.

He folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope, standing up, and shoving it into his pocket. He took a deep breath and nodded to himself, preparing to go back out there, leave all this technical stuff for later.

Please care about her.

That put it into perspective better than anything else so far. He'd faced a lot of things in his life – and in the grand scheme, coping with this did not come close to the worst. He was jolted, for better or worse, out of the rut he'd been shocked into yesterday evening, and when he walked out of Leia's office, he felt a very specific new resolve.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

"Han Solo, Walking Problem"

Leia had always found it curiously difficult to define her relationship with Mon Mothma. Not in any way that suggested it was negative; it was just complex. She had trouble defining Mon Mothma as a mentor, because politically, she considered her father her mentor, though Mon was certainly a more analogous role model from a solely female perspective. Mon had never been a mother figure; Leia had her mother, but sometimes, she sensed that Mon thought of her as a daughter figure, and awkwardly tried to fill the role as both the political mentor Bail had been, and the guiding hand Breha had been, after their deaths in 0 ABY.

Leia was not comfortable implying that she resented that, as resentment wasn't a good way to characterize her feelings. She had felt mild hostility towards Mon throughout the war years, which stemmed alternately from her irritation that Mon still treated her as a youthful teenager, and, just as baffling, irritation that Mon expected her to be an adult on par with men and women who had lived far longer, and become far more jaded. There were generational barriers between them; Mon, a woman who had known the Old Republic, and sometimes, forgot its poisons when she reminisced, and Leia, who had only known the Empire, and was radical only in the way those who had no notion of nostalgia could be.

There had been so much pressure on her after Alderaan's demise, and Mon Mothma had been both a comfort, and a burden. Leia knew there was more of a gulf between them now. She sensed the older woman's critical eye prying into her relationship with Han, analyzing it, and watching it for all the wrong reasons. They rarely spoke about personal matters, and such had been rarer since Leia infuriated the High Command by taking sabbatical to go after Han, so she knew Mon was overly cautious, and painfully apprehensive when Leia sat down with her to - in her own words - hash out some intimate details.

Leia had always harbored a distinct fear of being thought childish, or frivolous, and that fear had become part of her personality when she became the figurehead of a brutalized and homeless diaspora. Sometimes, she told herself that her anxiety over being thought silly by a woman like Mon, her last connection to her family and her fight, was what kept her in denial for so long when Han offered her something wonderful amidst all the terror and destruction. It was, perhaps, irrational - but today; she felt that same pinching anxiety, and tried not to let it make her hostile without cause.

She didn't want to start on edge, because she anticipated it becoming edgy regardless. She knew that some of the High Command had choice feelings about Han - at least, when it came to the idea of him as a romantic partner. It had been a topic that she did not discuss, and made clear she was not amenable to their commentary on, and they did not ask. It was a tension, she was sure, that lingered, ready to break when someone finally got the nerve to ask her if she was going to give them her title and her legacy to make a political match with.

She would have liked to take that off the table with less fireworks than there would be now, now that it wasn't just Han she was standing by, but a newly discovered child - but this was where things had landed. And as she'd told Han himself, comparatively this was not the worst thing that had happened to her. She had never believed it was fair to determine how much anger or sadness or suffering was allowed based on arbitrary accusations of some-have-it-worse, but in her own personal life, it was what helped her to cope.

Settled on the sofa in Mon's office, Leia pulled one leg up on the couch with her to give off as relaxed an aura as she could. She leaned against the back of it, resting her elbow on the cushion and her temple against her knuckles. Mon somewhat mimicked the position – though in a much more dignified way, both of her feet on the floor, and crossed neatly at the ankle, her body angled towards Leia.

"Everything is alright, I hope?" Mon asked politely. "I was – worried, yesterday. With the abrupt absence. Though obviously illness cannot be planned for."

Leia nodded, hurrying along Mon's pleasantries.

"I wasn't ill," she said. "But thank you for being understanding, and not pressing for personal information," she added.

Mon nodded.

"Of course not," she murmured, though Leia guessed it had probably taken all she had in her not to press for information – and not to press for it now. Even dignified, highly intelligent insurgent leaders had a human thirst for gossip in them somewhere.

Leia cleared her throat.

"I don't want to drag this out," she said. "You're busy – we're all busy, building what we've won," Leia paused, and noted the amused look in Mon's eyes. It was due to the semantics – when Leia referenced their efforts, she said 'building;' Mon tended to say 'rebuilding.' "The reason I wanted to speak with you – "

Mon Mothma sighed, the poignancy of it interrupting Leia cleanly.

"Leia, if this is about Han Solo, we're aware. Your attempts at secrecy are," Mon paused, "poor," she said, rather amused, "considering your background in insurgent subterfuge."

Taking that in for a moment, Leia tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. She considered Mon Mothma intently. She wasn't thrilled with being interrupted like an errant school girl, which was how Mon appeared to be speaking to her – and Leia didn't think Mon would have spoken to her that way if this were about politics.

"Well," Leia said crisply, "perhaps that is because I am not being," she flexed her hand, "secretive," she quoted.

She abandoned her original purpose briefly, fine to linger on this topic while the other woman sat back curiously.

"Are you not?" Mon asked, brow furrowing.

Leia shook here head very deliberately.

"I am being private," Leia stated firmly. "Discretion is not secrecy," she countered. "I don't answer questions about Han because he's not a public figure. I don't flaunt Han because to flaunt him would be irreverent, and I want to protect something that's very important to me."

Mon Mothma inclined her head, pursing her lips.

"I see," she said neutrally.

Leia hesitated, her skin crawling uncomfortably - she knew she was always walking a delicate line with the public interest in her relationship with Han. She wanted her personal life personal; she had always wanted that, and her family had always been notoriously circumspect - yet she also never wanted Han to feel demeaned, or obscured as if she were - ashamed of him.

She cleared her throat again.

"While it's not about my romantic entanglement with Han," she said. "There has been - ah, a delicate matter has arisen, and I need to bring you into the fold. I won't be explicitly answering questions on the matter," she sighed, "but there will be – interest, and I will probably make a statement. Of course I respect you and the rest of the High Command enough to make sure you hear it from me."

Mon Mothma looked down at her lap, smoothing her hand over her knee neatly. She seemed subdued for a moment, and then looked back up at Leia, composed, and resigned.

"I see," she said again. She sat forward, business-like. "Is he going to marry you?"

Leia blinked, taken aback. Of all things, that was not what she had expected – and she wasn't sure exactly what Mon was on about, as it were.

"Is who going to marry me?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

Mon Mothma arched her eyebrows.

"Han, of course," she answered

Leia arched her eyebrows in surprise, still unsure where this was going.

"Is he?" she repeated. "He hasn't mentioned it," she quipped, tilting her head with curiosity at Mon.

Mon Mothma's expression was tight. Leia hesitated, and then lifted her head to look at the woman opposite her more intently. She blinked pointedly, then relaxed a little, all at once deciphering why there was minor confusion.

"Oh," Leia sighed quietly. "I'm not pregnant," she said.

Mon Mothma stared at her, and then relaxed a little herself, sitting back heavily. She raised her eyebrows sharply, and then laughed, shaking her head.

"Leia, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

Leia gave her a tight-lipped smile, and crossed her legs, a little put off by that comment. A heart attack – as if Leia was sixteen, and Mon was Queen Breha or the Viceroy, the only two people who'd have any stake in Leia's situation if something like that were to happen?

"Hmm," she murmured. "Mon, I hope you understand that if I were pregnant, it would not be your concern for any other reason than granting my maternity leave," she said, curtly, but not unkindly - she didn't take too well to Mon acting as if that would have been Republic-shattering news, directly relevant to governance - or in any way her business.

Mon Mothma cleared her throat lightly. She hesitated, debating whether to justify her concerns, and then decided against it. She lifted her hand, nodded her head, and then moved on -

"What's the delicate matter?" she asked swiftly, re-directing things. "You say it isn't about Han Solo, but it is, in its own way?"

"Would you mind not calling him 'Han Solo' so formally as if you haven't known him for almost five years?" Leia asked, a little amused.

Mon arched her eyebrows, but said nothing. The comment was noted, but it was also very obviously a delaying tactic.

Leia hesitated for a moment longer, wincing. It didn't matter that she had planned what she wanted to say, and she was firm in her feelings and decision, this still felt monumentally difficult. She was more concerned about Han's reputation than her own, especially amongst those who seemed to already think him inferior to her.

She bit the inside of her lip to steady her resolve, and then sat forward a little, resting her temple back on her knuckles.

"There is no way to broach this with finesse," she said bluntly. "Han has a child."

Mon Mothma looked at her impassively. Years – years of political training, that similar to the kind Leia herself had honed, and used, made it so that her expression did not immediately betray what was going on inside her head. In fact, Mon's voice was calm, and controlled, when she repeated:

"A child?"

Struck with dry amusement, for some reason, Leia nodded.

"A human one," she quipped. "Female."

Mon Mothma shook her head a little, reaching up to rub her brows. She rested her arm on the back of the sofa as well, and tilted her head to the side heavily, studying her.

"A," she sighed, "child," she repeated. She compressed her lips, and took a breath. "And you just found out about this?"

"Well," Leia said dryly, "in his defense, I found out when he did. Before he did, in fact."

Mon arched her eyebrows incredulously, and Leia sighed, turning her head to the side and running her palm over her forehead.

"It's a long story," she muttered into her hand, before turning back to face Mon. She pursed her lips ruefully. "The short version is, this little girl's mother never told Han she was pregnant, and she's died. Corellian law requires – "

"Han to take custody, yes, I have some familiarity," Mon murmured.

For that, Leia was grateful; she wasn't keen on explaining the details, but she was relieved she wouldn't even have to give an overview. Mon put a hand over her mouth thoughtfully, casting her eyes down as she pondered the information. She looked back up, moving her hand.

Her lips smacked slightly as she held her hand out.

"Yes, that will get him some Media attention," she said, half to herself. She focused on Leia, a hesitant, burgeoning dread in her eyes. "What specifically do you want me to be aware of, Leia?" she asked.

Leia let her hand fall to the back of the sofa, and lifted her chin confidently.

"Han and I are serious, Mon," she said, gently, but with finality. "I don't think that should come as a shock, considering what I have done for him, and what he's done for me, but in case you harbored some – hope," she said, choosing the word wryly, "that I was just fooling around until a political match was made."

A slight redness touched Mon's cheeks, but to her credit, she said nothing. She held Leia's gaze, and let her speak.

"That isn't the case," Leia said. "That won't be the case," she emphasized. "What's going on between us has been serious for a long time."

"It can't have been going on long enough for it to be as serious as," Mon began, an unexpected outburst of disbelief. She switched gears, her tone stressed. "You don't have any thing to do with - his past dalliances."

Leia didn't say anything about Mon's assumption regarding how long was long enough for things to be serious. It was none of Mon's business how long things had been going on – but Leia wasn't basing her assessment of what they had on when it had become physical. The foundation for their relationship had been laid in a very deep, understanding friendship before anything else, and when it started like that, the attraction was natural; she and Han didn't need arbitrarily defined timelines to validate that they were serious – they knew what this was.

Leia knew what it was. That mattered.

"It's tempting to think that way, perhaps," Leia said. "But I don't think that way. Han's dealing with something that's – for lack of a better way to phrase it, shattered his world. I happen to know what that's like."

She considered Mon for a silent moment, and then shifted, siting forward. She rested her hands on her shin, focusing on Mon, leaning in towards her.

"I'm telling you this out of courtesy, not because I am seeking advice or permission," she said, her voice softly firm. "Han and Vada are living with me," she stated bluntly. "I've agreed to certain terms with Corellian authorities. This is a reality that I…cannot have predicted, and obviously, didn't expect, but," she lifted her shoulders. "This is the reality."

Mon turned to the side and moved to the edge of the couch, siting forward herself. She rubbed her forehead, leaning forward on her knees, absorbing the information.

"Vada," she repeated.

"That's her name."

Mon frowned, tapping her chin.

"How long have you known about this, Leia?"

"Two days," she answered flatly.

Mon straightened, incredulous. She stood up, a hand flying to her hip.

"Two days? You learned of this a mere two days ago and – you've got Han and his child living with you? Have you lost you mind?"

Leia straightened, but only looked at Mon coolly.

"No, I have not," she said. "For what it is worth, Han has basically been living with me for months."

Mon folded her arms across her chest.

"Leia, this is – drastic. This is a – significant twist to Han's history that – complicates things, it complicates them immensely," Mon's mouth moved silently for a moment as she grappled with the idea. "Do you have any idea what you're getting in to?"

Leia lifted her brows.

"No, Mon, considering there's no textbook guidance for how precisely things go when you find out your boyfriend has a seven-year-old," she said, deadpan.

"Boyfriend," Mon said faintly. "Is that really what you're calling him?"

"That is what he is," Leia retorted. She lifted one brow. "Granted, I think the term is juvenile and hardly encompasses what Han means to me, but Basic lacks a more nuanced word."

Mon compressed her lips into a thin, tense line, unsure of how to respond. Leia looked at her, taking the silence for what it was for a moment, and analyzing her own feelings briefly. Mon's obvious panic gave her some calm, which was a relief.

"Leia," she started curtly.

"Mon," Leia said, gently. "Please sit down."

Mon looked a bit surprised to be given a command, but also seemed to take it to heart – especially when she took note of Leia's still calm, mature tone. She sighed, unfolded her arms, and took a seat, relaxing her tense expression some.

Leia let the silence continue for a moment, and then took a deep breath.

"If you're out of your element, imagine what I'm feeling," she said, "and then magnify that exponentially, and maybe you'll get close to what Han is going through," she said, hoping to put it into perspective.

Leia licked her lips, and gave Mon a brutally honest look.

"This is not something I expected to happen," she said. "It is not something…I wanted to happen," she admitted. She didn't feel guilty about admitting that – it was the truth, but it had no bearing on how she would proceed. "But it did happen," she said, her voice softening. "Han is reeling. I'm handling my own disorientation over the whole thing, but what I'm emphasizing to you is that Han remains part of my life. In the same way he was before he – we – knew about Vada."

Mon, still tight-lipped, listened, her head tilted as if at the perfect angle to best take things in. She set her jaw, a muscle in her temple twitching, and then all at once seemed to deflate a little, her head bowing.

"Leia," she sighed, looking up warily. "This is so – "

"You aren't going to say anything I haven't thought," Leia interrupted bluntly. "But I know you're a decent woman, Mon, and I know you don't seriously think I'd turn my back on Han without a second thought because of something like this. Something he – did not deliberately hide from me."

Mon considered her earnestly.

"Of course not," she agreed. She looked strained, her shoulders falling. "You're sure he didn't know about this all along, Leia?" she asked. "You're sure? You have – a considerable fortune, and he could – " Mon broke off delicately.

Leia sat back heavily.

"If Han is truly after me for my money, then he is running the longest con in the galaxy and to be quite fair, he has earned it," she said caustically – and with that, dismissed the notion altogether.

She pursed her lips.

"I won't speak too explicitly on Han's private thoughts, but suffice it to say that he is significantly distressed over what kind of stress this might place on me. You can put to rest any concerns about Han," she said firmly. "He was an orphan himself. He's not one to play games like this."

Mon nodded – she accepted that. She did not think Leia was stupid, either, and she trusted her judgment. Still, she felt such a swell of disappointment at the idea of Leia, so young, on the cusp of a magnificent political career, getting bogged down in the past mistakes of an old boyfriend. The thought was so abhorrent – but Mon schooled her features.

She took a deep breath.

"What do you need from us?" she asked.

Leia licked her lips.

"I only ask that amongst colleagues it's known that my private life is private unless I bring it up," she requested, "and that no one makes a comment to Media, whether it's in answer to a question, or to give an opinion."

Mon nodded firmly.

Leia steeled herself for the next bit; well aware it was unlikely to go over well. Han had argued with her, too – almost raged against her, though the anger was misdirected, more fear than anything else. She expected Mon Mothma to react the same way.

"I'm going to be taking a more limited role in the New Republic for a little while," Leia said bravely. "Han and I need time and privacy to deal with this."

The protest rose quickly on Mon's face, and in her eyes. She jolted forward, wary, and alarmed.

"Leia," she said sharply. "I have to caution you against making a rash decision. I understand your desire to support the man you love, but this is not your child. This is not your responsibility. You are not obligated to give up – and if Han has – "

Mon got heated, faster than Leia had seen her get heated in a while, and Leia looked away sharply, her expression tense. Unexpectedly, the aggressive reminder that Vada was not her child hurt. It left an ache in her ribs that only vaguely made sense to her – why did it bother her? She wasn't anywhere close to thinking about having children.

"Han hasn't done anything," Leia said sharply. "I am not taking a sabbatical from work – this is not reminiscent of my mission on Tatooine," she added firmly, silencing Mon Mothma with a stern look.

She let that sit for a minute, and then sighed quietly.

"Mon, I already told you I would take a minor role in this government early on," she reminded her – and she had. "I'm not here to tell you I'm quitting or confining myself to the home. I need to focus on the Alderaanians, for one. I also need time to recover from the war and everything that happened during it," she explained, her voice growing a little hoarse, as she was honest with both of them. "In the grand scheme of things, I was barely an adolescent when I started this fight. I have to take care of myself if I'm going to see the things I fought for continue to evolve and triumph. I need a break."

Mon looked conflicted; frustrated. She frowned.

"So you want to take that time and instead be a mother to a bastard child?" she asked.

Leia compressed her lips tightly, and was quiet for a beat to so she wouldn't respond to hotly to that jab – she wanted to remain cool and collected this entire conversation; she was projecting the max amount of serenity and maturity.

"I want to enjoy my relationship with Han, get to know my brother, take care of my people, and make sure I'm not so psychologically damaged I crack under the extreme pressure that will plague us all as we run this galaxy," she said bluntly. "It just so happens that Vada is now an aspect of my relationship with Han. That is how it is. I am not interested in your assessment, but I do need your support in my professional needs."

Mon appeared to struggle again. She looked skeptical, disappointed – at a loss. She sighed, and sat back roughly, perhaps resigned.

"I cannot help but wonder what Bail would think about all this," she said.

Leia interpreted it for what it was – a guilt trip, a last attempt at a wake up call. She bit the inside of her lip, and chose her words carefully.

"I think he would have sympathy for a motherless young girl," she said pointedly. "Perhaps even raise her as his own," she added, with curt finality.

Mon inclined her head after a moment. Leia watched her intently, and then stood, her shoulders straight. It might work out well in many ways – with Leia sequestering herself for a while, concerned with family and interpersonal relationships and, primarily, the Alderaanian diaspora – the Media might focus solely on the formation of the New Republic.

"I am not leaving politics, Mon," Leia reiterated. "Diplomacy is my calling. Me giving up, subjugating myself to a man's needs? That is not what this is," she promised. She gave her a wry little smile. "Han would die before he let me do that," she quipped, well aware of the irony in her semantics – but she was serious; Han would never claim to be her master, or stand in her way.

It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

She hesitated, and bit the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling.

"I am twenty-three, Mon," she whispered. "I am twenty-three years old, and I have very little left in my life."

It was an honest admission, a truth she'd struggled with a long time, but rarely discussed out loud. She did not feel hopeless, or suicidal, but she had a fierce desire to cherish the important things she did have.

"This thing with Han, with…Vada," she said quietly, "it may seem like an absurd reason for me to take a step back, to distance myself from the high-stress, but it's a real reason, and it also happens to be a valid excuse for me to take time for myself that I need anyway."

Leia lifted her shoulders, swallowing hard. She didn't want it to sound like she was using Vada – she wasn't. She was only being as self-aware as she was capable, and she knew that right now, focus on herself and Han was what she needed, because if that fell apart – she let her thoughts trail off there.

Han was not the only thing holding her together - at least, she didn't think he was - but he was the one thing in life she wanted for herself. He was part of her self-care, and if she had learned anything from the loss of Alderaan, it was that her personal relationships had to take precedence – lest she be left with regrets if she ever lost loved ones again.

Mon was looking up at her, her mind working. She stood, level with Leia, and for a moment Leia thought she was going to condemn her. Instead, Mon stepped forward, touched her shoulders, and leaned into a hug.

It was a gentle, kind hug. Leia, surprised for a moment, was quick to return it, pressing her forehead against Mon's shoulder. Mon stepped back, nodding her head, and clearing her throat.

"Well," she said. "I certainly did not expect this when you wanted to speak privately," she said, lightening her tone. "Shall we, ah," she sighed, setting her shoulders, "discuss logistics? You'll tell me how you want to handle your lightened work load?"

Heartened, Leia held Mon Mothma's gaze for a moment, trying to convey the gratitude she felt for the older woman's acceptance – even if it was grudging; even if Mon didn't quite like it, or quite understand it. Mon gave her a good, hard look in return, and nodded – and Leia was confident in her support, and was relieved to know that in the end, her relationship with Mon was clearly more personal than political, if Mon could set aside political ambitions and prefer to stand behind Leia's privacy instead.

As he sat in Luke's apartment delivering the news, Han had the thought that he was getting a hell of a lot better at this – at telling people. Or at least, he'd done this once before – with Chewie – so he kind of knew what template to use, and sort of expected what Luke was going to say.

The kid was a tough one to read sometimes, though; he had been ever since he'd come back from Sith-knew-where dressed in mostly black and talking in cryptic riddles. He was still, at heart, optimistic and relentlessly kind, but on the outside he was much more mysterious and controlled. More than he had been as the towheaded, eager teenager Han had first met five years ago.

When Han started, he had his hard-to-read face on, but slowly, it contorted into something slightly uncertain, and a little consternated, until he was staring at Han with a furrowed brow, and pursed lips, clearly on the verge of a question.

"…so, we've – or, uh, I, got to figure out how to deal with this – what?" Han asked, breaking off.

He squinted at Luke, trying to figure out why he was confused.

Luke tilted his head a little.

"Well," he started. "I…just think this is a weird way to tell me Leia's pregnant," he said slowly, scrunching up his face intently.

Han sat back, confused himself.

"What?" he asked again.

Luke folded his arms.

"I think most people would just say 'We're going to have a baby,'" Luke said. "Not 'turns out I got a kid,'" he quoted, doing a comical imitation of Han's low drawl.

Han stared at him.

"I hope you don't think I need to know how you got a kid," Luke added warily, arching one eyebrow.

Han blinked.

"Uh, no, kid, I think you do," he retorted, unsure if he was amused, or just completely baffled that Luke was misunderstanding him so spectacularly. His rough, vernacular Basic could be less than elegant sometimes, but he didn't think he'd made it that difficult to get.

"No," Luke retorted, "I really don't need to hear about anything you're doing with my sister – "

"Luke," Han interrupted, annoyed. He held up his hands, leaning forward in his armchair. "Leia's not pregnant,"

Luke looked at him suspiciously.

"You just said she was."

"Luke," Han growled again, glaring at him. "You're not hearin' me right – I said I got a kid," he repeated. "You hearin' me? The kid I have," he pointed to his chest, speaking slower, "is seven. She ain't Leia's kid."

He arched his brows pointedly, and waited.

Luke blinked, straightening his head and shoulders.

"Oh. Oh," he said. "Ohhhh," he muttered under his breath. He winced at his own misunderstanding, and then frowned slowly, letting that sink in a little. He sat back. "I guess that makes more sense, with how you phrased it," he said dryly.

Han watched him warily, and after a moment of silence, Luke looked up, concern etched on his face. He stared at Han thoughtfully, deciding on what he wanted to say – he knew Han probably needed support, and he guessed Leia did, too. He'd have to do that later, since she wasn't here.

"So, um," Luke began cautiously. "What's the story?"

Han ran a hand over his mouth.

"Short version? Corellia's got bloodline-based custody laws. This woman I used to run around with, Visenya, she had a baby. Didn't tell me. She died, so," Han shrugged. "Now they place the baby with me. Kid," he amended. "She's seven," he said again.

"There has to be more to it than that," Luke said skeptically.

"Yeah," Han agreed. "But it ain't what matters now, all that stuff in the past," he muttered. "The point is, she lives with…me, now," he said heavily, "and Leia's…gonna be involved, and it can't be a…secret."

Luke nodded, brow still furrowed as he took things in.

"When did you find out?"

"Coupla days ago," Han said, rubbing one palm hard. He snorted derisively. "Matter of fact, Corellian social services went to Leia's apartment and told her. She got to tell me," he said sarcastically. "Real fun for her, huh?"

Luke cringed at the thought.

"Leia's apartment? I thought you guys lived together," he said, skirting around the rest of the comment.

Han hesitated.

"It's – we do – it's," he broke off, sighing. "We do," he said, for lack of a more nuanced explanation. "We do," he muttered again – they did, now. Officially. Thanks to –

"What's her name?" Luke asked curiously.

Han looked up.

"Vada," he said.

Luke ticked up one eyebrow. Han nodded grimly.

"I know," he muttered, noting, again the similarity to 'Vader.' He snorted again. "Would you believe me if I said it's considered a pretty name on Corellia?" he asked dryly.

Luke nodded.

"Sure," he said. "You can't help what it kind of sounds like. Neither can she," he noted, shrugging kindly. He hesitated a moment, and then leaned back, letting out a long breath. "So," he started hesitantly. "Is Leia…okay? Are you?"

He swallowed hard, his eyes on Han critically.

"What are you guys…gonna do?" he asked, hoping he sounded calm, and supportive.

He tried to imagine how he would feel if someone told him, out of the blue, that he'd had a child out in the world for years that no one ever told him about, a child that he was suddenly in charge of taking care of because – of all things – her mother had died. He could barely grasp what Han must be feeling – having been orphaned abruptly himself, both at birth, and when he was nineteen, he related more to the little girl, he supposed.

Vada. The way Han said it, with a subtle linguistic inflection made it so that it wasn't exactly like Vader. Luke wondered if that similarity bothered Leia, or if she was able to block it out. It had been a little while since he'd last checked in with her about her feelings regarding everything they'd found out about family – and now, she'd be occupied with this.

Han took a deep breath.

"It's, uh, kind of a lot," he muttered. "So, I got to be evaluated as a parent, for them to make sure I'm a good guy to do it? And since, uh, I live with Leia, she kind of has to do that, too. Go through that," he explained. "And Vada is staying with us, 'cause – 'cause I don't want her in a home, or with people who make her uncomfortable, even if I'm a stranger to her, and I don't really…have my head around this all the way, yet," he said rapidly, keeping his tone gruff and controlled.

"And, uh," he continued. "Leia's taking it okay. She says she is. She's actin' like she is," he said. He shook his head, running his hand over his mouth again. "She's…been kinda amazing, Luke," he said hoarsely. "Put the social workers in their place and, y'know, makes Vada feel comfortable," he said. "Better'n I'm doing," he added harshly.

"Well, I'm sure it's all a shock," Luke said slowly. "It's a shock for both of you, but Leia's trained to handle system shocks of all kinds. And, um, she has…first hand knowledge on dealing with, uh, some pretty devastating family revelations," he said, his tone edged with guilt.

He gave a small, rueful smile.

"She might think this is nothing compared to what she found out," he said.

Han nodded slowly.

"Yeah," he said. "Dunno. Guess I didn't think of it that way."

Leia had, though. Or she'd said something like that, something about her, remembering how he'd handled Vader – Han swallowed hard, and looked down, hesitant to look too hard at Luke. He wondered if the kid was judging him, what he thought of him, after a reveal like this.

"Leia's also just good with people," Luke added earnestly. "I bet she had plenty of experiences dealing with children in her duties as a Princess. She's tough, you know, so," Luke trailed off for a moment. He smiled wryly. "You're in good hands."

"Yeah," Han muttered again. "S'just…not…somethin' I want her to have to deal with. After everything."

Luke looked at him thoughtfully. He had no idea what must be going through his sister's mind – though perhaps this explained why there had been such a clear, firm mental block on her side for the past couple of days. No – it definitely explained it.

He didn't say anything right away. He didn't think a generic platitude such as 'life sometimes makes you deal with things' was appropriate. He kept his serene, Jedi wisdom to himself for now. He was interested to talk to Leia, but he was sure she'd come to him in time – and he was glad –

"Thanks for telling me, Han," Luke said quietly.

Han nodded quickly.

"'Course," he said hoarsely. He smiled tensely. "I might need the help," he joked dryly.

Luke nodded fervently.

"Don't hesitate to ask," he said firmly. "I like kids." He laughed a little. "When I thought you were telling me Leia was pregnant, I thought it was fast, but I was happy for you guys," he said.

Han snorted. Fast summed it up pretty well, so far.

"Who else knows right now?" Luke asked.

Han nodded at him.

"You," he said. "Chewie, 'course," he added. "And Leia's tellin' Mon and Carlist today, but we're keepin' it close hold for as long as we can. Mostly 'cause we don't want the Media – "

"Oh, I get it," Luke said dryly. He furrowed his brow. "Did you know a reporter filmed me getting lunch the other day? He said I ate boring food."

"Slow news cycle," Han said, deadpan.

"I guess," Luke muttered, arching a brow in agreement. He sighed. "I can only imagine how they'd react to the dashing General Solo having a secret love child."

Han grunted.

"General Solo still doesn't know how to react," he mumbled sarcastically.

Luke gave him a sympathetic little smile. He hesitated, and then lifted his shoulders, tilting his head curiously.

"What's she like? Can I meet her?" he asked. "I mean, I figure obviously I'll meet her, but…soon?"

Han nodded slowly.

"Yeah, pretty soon. S'kinda strange 'cause she…knows who we are. From Holos and stuff. She said her mom told her who I was, but no one believed her."

"Hey, at least she gets to gloat over that," Luke offered.

Han smirked a little, and shrugged.

"Hmm," he grunted. "Dunno how much gloatin' I'm worth," he said warily. He shrugged again. "She probably thinks I'm all this stuff that'm just…not."

Luke blinked.

"Did you tell her about the Kessel run?" he asked seriously. "Because that's what you said to impress me, and I was impressed until I got to know you."

When Han did not laugh, Luke sat back, grinning.

"I'm kidding, Han," he snorted. "I don't know a whole lot about the situation, but I think it's fair to say she cares less about all the fame and glory than having a nice dad to take care of her," he pointed out.

Luke frowned pointedly.

"I mean, I spent my whole life thinking my father was this daring, adventurous star pilot, which was only half the sordid story," he said. "So if you want to be hard on yourself about not being perfect or something, maybe remind yourself that at least you didn't enslave the entire galaxy."

Han frowned thoughtfully.

"That's…true," he said slowly.

"Why do you sound so uncertain?" Luke laughed, good-natured. "You helped liberate the galaxy."

"Well, a lot of that was Leia's influence," Han hedged under his breath. "Leia, you know, inspirin' me."

Luke cocked his head.

"I'd say it's a safe bet that striving to be a better man for the woman you love is a good thing for your daughter to see."

Han looked down at his hand, rubbing his palm thoughtfully. He nodded to himself – maybe that was a good way to look at it, since he was still wracked with uncertainty and guilt over what he might or might not have done, if he'd known about Vada when Visenya was pregnant, or even soon after she was born.

"Your daughter," Luke repeated, fascinated. "That's…strange."

Han snorted.

"Yeah," he said again. "You're tellin' me, kid," he said heavily.

Luke seemed to be wholly accepting of the matter – at least, other than the expected shock, confusion, and curiosity, he didn't seem to express any animosity, which gave Han some relief. Particularly because since finding out that Leia was his twin sister, Luke had stepped into a –sometimes-comical – protective brother role, and Han had half expected to get slugged. Which was a little silly, since Luke was by default not a violent person.

For his part, Luke was taken aback, certainly shocked by the revelation, and he was sure it was a complex, incredibly difficult situation for Han and Leia, but he did not feel any sense of foreboding over it.

Han sat back, sighing. He gave Luke a stern, fraternal look.

"You ought to go do some recon with the farm girls you messed around with," he advised dryly. "Make sure there's no little secret Skywalkers runnin' around the neighboring moisture farms," he joked.

Luke laughed loudly, his eyebrows shooting up.

"The farthest I ever got with a girl on Tatooine couldn't have resulted in a baby by a long shot," he snorted, lightly mocking his teenage lack of experience.

"Good," Han said darkly. "I shoulda stayed away from women more."

Luke laughed again, and Han ran his hands over his face, sighing.

"Thing is," he muttered, "if this was gonna happen, y'know, an accident," he broke off, hesitating, "I'd have wanted it to be…Leia," he mumbled slowly. "Not that I want her to have to handle that sort of thing, or – I dunno what she'd want to do about it," he rambled hastily, "but…I really love 'er, kid," he said hoarsely. "I don't want to lose her."

Luke's hearty laughter faded into a gentle, understanding look. He nodded firmly. He wasn't the authority on Leia, or on Han, and he figured he couldn't really predict exactly what was going to happen with all this, or how it was going to turn out, but he was kind of confident offering some insight on behalf of Leia's probable state of mind.

"I don't think you're going to lose her, Han," he said firmly. "You've seen her fight. You've seen the loyalty she's capable of," he pointed out. "No one commits like Leia Organa. No one overcomes obstacles like her."

Han gave him a slight, but grateful smile, taking that to heart – Luke was at least spot on in his assessment there. Leia's ability to adapt to unsavory situations was unparalleled. The caveat here was that this was not something such as Alderaan's destruction, which she had no choice in, no alternative but to adapt – this, she had every right to walk away from if it became too much.

Vada was thoroughly enjoying her private, guided tour of the Millennium Falcon, despite the fact that she could not understand Chewbacca's language at all. She concentrated hard, and she tried to focus on what Princess Leia had told her – that picking it up was all about tone – but it just wasn't working, so she settled for looking politely delighted at everything that came out of his mouth.

From what she could tell, everything he was saying was very nice; his growls sounded friendly. And she highly doubted that Han and Leia would leave her with someone who was unsafe or mean – they had been quick enough to be suspicious of the social workers, and to take her away from them, even when they didn't know Vada herself at all.

It was kind of funny that Chewbacca understood everything she said, and pleasantly answered her questions, and she just blinked back at him in gently confused fascination every time.

He had typed some things out for her a few times, but that was difficult, too, with how big his paws were compared to Han's human-centric typing machines.

It was probably an oversight that Chewbacca was watching her even though she couldn't understand him. She could tell just by studying her father's behavior that he seemed to have forgotten there were people who couldn't understand Shriywook, because he kept forgetting to translate last night, when she first met Chewbacca. Leia was much better about the general translation, but she was a little distracted, and she forgot, too – and Vada and Chewie had both gotten on so well while Han and Leia disappeared into Leia's study for a little while, that both of them probably just forgot there was a language barrier.

Vada really, really didn't mind, though. She was relieved not to be handed off to social workers – she had taken a liking to Chewbacca fast. He was just one of those beings who exuded trustworthiness and kindness and wisdom – which was a lot more than Vada could say for any of the adults who had been in charge of her since her mother died.

And, uh, sometimes, including her mother.

She knew her father and Leia were off handling serious things today, things that were for her own good – so she could stay with them. Or at least, so they'd look good enough for the Corellians to declare Han 'fit.'

Whatever that meant.

Vada was a little skeptical of governments and organized authority and other people deciding what was good for her. She figured it kind of made sense that they had a responsibility to make sure she wasn't in a bad situation, but as far as she knew, her mother hadn't applied to any authority to be declared fit to have a baby in the first place, so why couldn't they just hand her off to Han and leave her alone?

She was pretty confident she could be good enough that her father would love her, and learn to take care of her, and Leia, too – Leia seemed at ease with the situation, anyway – and Vada had already sort of trained her own mom to be a better mom, when she was old enough to start to understand Visenya was a little…flighty.

It was all complicated. Endlessly annoying grown-up stuff. She just hoped this didn't turn out like last time – like the time they'd dragged her to that big, castle-like estate with the wrought-iron fence and the serving staff and the cold, aggressive matriarch who'd looked a lot like Visenya, if Visenya had been dried out like old meat. They'd told her then she was going to live with family until they were able to put her in contact with her father, and then the people there had coldly refused to acknowledge Vada's presence at all.

Not that Vada had been surprised. She'd met them once before – her grandparents – and her vile old grandmother had called her a name, and Vada's mother had responded by slapping her – the whole thing had been an exciting nightmare.

Vada had no interest in seeing those people ever again. She'd rather be in a home.

There was such a good chance that she might have to be, now…

Chewbacca guided her down the hall, and pointed into a room hidden back behind an innocuous door, one Vada might have mistaken for a closet.

[Han's bunk,] he said explained, pointing as he pushed up the door. He poked his head in, sniffed, and then seemed to decide it was okay in there. He let Vada look, and she peeked around.

She noticed Han didn't make his bed, and smiled – she didn't, either.

[Well, it is actually Han and Leia's bunk, now,] Chewbacca went on blithely. [He says 'our,' so I should, as well.]

Vada nodded seriously, utterly clueless as to what he was saying.

She let Chewbacca stear her around some more, showing her the ladders down to the gun turrets, and even the smuggling compartments, which she particularly enjoyed. She thought it was neat that Han used to be a smuggler – they were Corellia's unofficial export, after all.

"Mr. Chewbacca," Vada asked, as she swirled around slowly taking in the main hold once more. "Do you know how my dad got his bloodstripes?"

Chewbacca cocked his head at her curiously, blinking sagely. He smiled at her – she was a curious, brave thing. She didn't seem daunted at all by the fact that she couldn't understand him; it seemed enough that she'd been told by Han and Leia that she could trust him. That worried him, and made him want to be twice as protective, and nice to her.

He lifted his paw and brushed it against his chest curling in his knuckles and rubbing them gently against his sternum.

[I do not know what the gold ones are for,] he said gruffly, [but the red ones, they were awarded to him after he was expelled from the Imperial Academy. For freeing me from slavery.]

Chewbacca tilted his head back and forth, and then pointed to his legs. He gestured his hand up and down his outer thigh, and then pointed to Vada's trousers as well, indicating where the bloodstripes would be. He pressed his fist against his chest again earnestly, hoping that conveyed some of it.

Vada furrowed her brow for a moment, but then pointed at Chewbacca.

"They have something to do with you?" she asked. "His bloodstripes?"

Chewbacca beamed proudly. He nodded.

Vada returned the grin. She turned in a circle, and then scampered over to the table in the middle of the room, spreading her hands over it. Her brow furrowed, and she turned around, cocking her head at Chewbacca.

"Is this for games?" she asked. "Can you play Sabacc?"

Chewbacca snorted. He shook his head sternly.

[You cannot play Sabacc,] he chided. He gestured for Vada to climb up on the bench, and she did.

Once she was settled, Chewbacca turned on the game board, and Vada perched on her knees, leaning elbows on the table and peering down at the shimmering holo-board. She raised her eyebrows, taking in the scene.

She reached out to touch one of the incandescent creatures, and it appeared to react to her movement. She laughed aloud.

"Oh, it's a game!" she exclaimed, rising higher up on her knees. "How do you play?" she asked eagerly.

Chewbacca raised his brows, and hesitated.

[Now, how am I supposed to explain that?] he asked, exasperated.

Vada giggled, and frowned ruefully.

"Hmmm," she hummed. "I think, you cannot tell me, or make me understand," she snorted.

She cocked her head at him mischievously.

"Can you understand me in Corellian, too?" she asked, switching to her native tongue.

[Yes,] Chewbacca said with a savvy nod, [but that does not make you understand me, does it?]

Vada squinted at him for a long time, hoping the understanding would magically come to her. She was not so lucky – but she could begin to see what Leia had been saying about tone. Vada was almost sure she was able to tell when Chewbacca was making a joke.

"Well, I will speak Corellian here, since I can't practice Basic with you, anyway," Vada said, siting back on her ankles.

She surveyed the board. It seemed like some kind of chess, and she'd taught herself to play chess in the home. For some reason, one of the only book chips the place had in stock was on how to play chess. Probably because it was too boring for anyone to steal, hoard, or destroy.

Chewbacca nodded at that. He watched her for a moment, and then he had an idea.

[I think we have the manual for that,] he warbled, gesturing at the game eagerly. [Han installed it after Lando,] he said to himself, talking through where it might be. [I think he put it in one of his storage trunks. He does not look it, but Han hoards things. He is a very sentimental human.]

Chewbacca laughed smugly to himself, knowing full well Vada couldn't understand him, but enjoying teasing Han a little all the same.

[I think he has a pebble Leia threw at him once stashed in a tool box,] he chuckled. [He probably prayed to it for a while.]

Vada looked at him curiously, and Chewbacca waved his hand in the human indication that meant 'wait here' – at least as he understood it. He ducked out of the main hold and into Han's bunkroom; going for the trunk where he knew Han kept Falcon-related stuff, and not personal stuff.

There was certainly a mess of tools, instruction chips, and other ship-related stuff in there – but alas, at the bottom, was the instruction manual to playing games of Dejarik, and it was in Corellian. Vada would easily be able to read it – she was smart, and Chewbacca had heard her mention reading, so he knew she was capable.

He tucked it under his arm and looked around Han's bunkroom, pausing for a moment. It was cleaner in here – Chewie didn't think he'd noticed that lately. In fact, it looked like it had actually been cleaned – perhaps because until recently, he and Leia had spent some nights here, some at her apartment?

Chewie snickered, and waved his hand over the sensor, dimming the lights as he left. He brought the manual back out to Vada, and handed it to her triumphantly.

She'd been chewing on her thumb, and she popped it out of her mouth, reaching out and taking the manual with excitement. She beamed, clutching it to her chest for a moment, pleased he'd thought to look for it for her, and thrilled with the idea of learning something new.

[Do you want something to eat?] Chewbacca asked, bolstered by the smile on her face – as far as he was concerned, food was the best way to communicate when there was no other way to do so.

Vada cocked her head, squinting her eyes.

Chewbacca hummed thoughtfully, and then pointed to his mouth, and to his stomach, and tilted his head in what he hoped was a questioning way. Vada straightened her head a little.

"Snacks?" she clarified.

Chewbacca nodded.

She bit her lip, and then nodded slowly.

"Yes, I would like a snack," she said clearly.

Chewbacca drew his teeth back in a smile. He knew the galley had plenty of things stocked that she'd probably be interested in eating. He turned to go, and then paused, backing up and turning back to her. He hesitated, and then stepped closer, facing her directly across the Dejarik table.

[Vada,] he said, very distinctly – or rather, he gave her the specific melody he was using to resemble her name. It wasn't a direct translation of what he heard Han say, either; it was his own concoction, representative of how he associated her in regards to Han.

She blinked at him, and he lifted his paw and put it on her head very gently.

[Vada,] he said again. He patted her head once. [Vada].

She put her hand to her chest, her eyes lighting up cautiously.

"Is that how my name sounds?" she asked. "In Shriywook?"

Chewbacca nodded. He patted her head again, and drew his hand back proudly. She really was a hell of a smart little thing, and he liked her. He loved cubs, especially human ones. They were so guileless, and so innocent; they were truly representative of what the mature human could be if they weren't always so drive by selfish appetites. He bowed his head, and indicated he was going to go into the galley to find her something to eat.

Vada nodded, and kept her head up high while she watched him go. She settled down to the manual he'd given her with anticipation. She had the fleeting thought that it was probably odd for her to be always so interested to learn things, even boring things.

She pulled the manual towards her, biting her lip and opening it to the first page – it was in Corellian, which was much easier for her to read. Before she started, she looked up, and looked around. This was the Millennium Falcon – which to be honest, didn't mean so much to her. She just knew that her father was very proud of it, and it had been on a lot of wanted lists, so if bad guys hated it – it was a good thing.

She went back to her book, and took a deep breath before she dove into it – it was so, so hard not to get excited to maybe get to stay here, but she had to try not to. She had to try to remember that nothing was set in stone, that right now everything was in flux, and none of them really knew each other at all.

In contrast to the subtleties of her complex relationship with Mon Mothma, Leia had never felt uncertain about her relationship with Carlist Rieekan. He was a protector when she was only a Princess, a watchful eye, an extension of her father, when she was playing spy games, and a saving grace of a commanding officer when their whole world quite literally fell apart.

He had been the only one able to follow her directive that she be treated like a human, like a soldier - like anyone else. How he had balanced respect for her, and who she was, as he'd known her all her life, and respect for her desperate wish to be given purpose, and seen as a strong, proud, but hurting young woman at the same time - when she'd barely understood that herself - was beyond her, but she valued it.

And she valued that when she'd given her speech to the Command about leaving to find Han, Carlist had been the only one who looked un-surprised, even triumphant, and said to her in front of all of them - That is exactly what you need to do right now, Leia. Godspeed.

She had never thanked him for that, or even spoken to him about it, but it was etched in her heart. He was one of the few - along with Luke, and Han - who had realized that if she had nothing to live for outside of revenge against the Empire, and victory over Vader, then she'd die as soon as the war was over, it was his tacit approval that had coaxed her to explore what had existed between herself and Han.

She hoped he didn't rescind that approval now, because she felt she'd need him on her – their – side.

She began things much the same way as she had with Mon, though Carlist was less interested in any romantic subterfuge she did or did not have going on. She even sensed, from the look on his face as she spoke, that he had an inkling of what was coming. In fact, he betrayed so little shock, that it gave her pause.

Her lips pursed, watching him from a seat at his conference table, she tilted her head.

"Carlist," she asked. "Did you know about this?" she asked, at a loss. How could he possibly - ?

"No," Rieekan said mildly. He held his hand out. "Not until this moment." He paused, obviously choosing his next words carefully. "However, a representative claiming to be from the Corellian Embassy did contact me about a week ago asking for Han's permanent address."

Rieekan grimaced.

"I…assumed it was an imposter who might be trying to kill him so I told them Han lived on Mustafar."

Leia laughed shortly.

"I can't say I blame you," she murmured. "Han thought he was being arrested when he saw the Corellians in my living room," she noted. She quieted for a moment, and then sighed. "He likely wishes he'd been arrested, and that was all it was."

"Prison is something Han has dealt with successfully before," Rieekan agreed, deadpan. "You told Mon about this?" he asked, moving forward swiftly.

Leia nodded.

"This morning," she said. "I also told her I'd stepping back from my work load and focusing on this and the Alderaanians for now."

Rieekan snorted ruefully.

"I can imagine how that went over," he remarked.

Leia sighed.

"Well, she doesn't like it. It only compounds her opinion that Han isn't good enough for me," she said frankly. "But, we parted on good terms. It didn't seem she bore me any ill will.

"She shouldn't," Rieekan muttered sternly, resting his elbows on the conference table and leaning forward to run his hands over his face. He sighed in resignation; shaking his head before letting his hands fall. "I'm sorry about this, Princess," he said heavily. "You must be overwhelmed."

He traced circles on the lacquered table with his index finger. He frowned, though it didn't seem to be a frown of displeasure or disappointment, just uncertainty. Leia didn't address his comment right away; for now, she only said –

"Please just call me Leia in personal settings."

Rieekan nodded, looking over at her intently. She looked back at him, and lifted her chin, giving him a small, wry smile.

"You are not quite reeling in shock," she noted.

Rieekan took a deep breath. He leaned back thoughtfully, tilting his head for a moment, and then shrugged.

"You know I don't think poorly of Han, Prince – Leia," he said honestly. "He's a good man and a damn good friend and one of the finest soldiers I've ever worked with, even if he acts like he ain't a soldier," he snorted. "I don't think something like this makes a man a bad person."

He folded his arms thoughtfully.

"Han's been a smuggler and lived a nomadic lifestyle for most of his life and since I'm pretty sure he wasn't a monk for most of it, it's not entirely against the odds that something like this happened," Rieekan said frankly. "There's not really a damn thing he can do if the woman didn't tell him."

Rieekan shrugged, his voice devoid of judgment.

"And that's no slur against this girl's mother on my part. I'm sure she had her reasons," he added firmly.

"Woman," Leia said.

"Pardon?"

"The woman," Leia said. "Not girl."

"Of course," Rieekan said, inclining his head.

Leia set her jaw.

"Han's convinced she didn't tell him because he was an atrocious human being," she said bitterly. "In fact, he's hell-bent on convincing me of what scum he was."

She was grateful to hear Rieekan laugh dismissively.

"Solo's got skin as thick as concrete, a sharp as hell tactical mind, and enough guts to keep him alive and keep him holdin' his own, but he's never been rotten. I'd bet you this had more to do with what the woman wanted than him."

Leia smiled, letting her head fall back against the neck of her chair. Her shoulders relaxed a little – that was exactly how she felt; exactly what she'd been trying to make Han see. She was relieved to hear that Rieekan seemed to assess the situation the same way.

"How are you holding up?" Rieekan asked, studying her closely. Leia was one of the toughest women he knew - the toughest, in fact. His first instinct was not to dismiss this, but to view it as a less significant stressor than she'd faced in the past.

Still, he was sure it wasn't what she wanted. He was also sure she'd have trouble ever admitting that, for fear of saddling Han with more guilt than he already felt. Leia had never been one for tantrums, anyway, as far back as Rieekan could remember. She had been raised on her father's strict mantra – you will not always get what you want; your reaction to that is the heart of your character.

Leia thought about her answer for a moment.

"I think I am embracing one of the rare privileges women have over men," she said finally, lifting her chin almost primly. "There is no way for us to have a baby without noticing."

Rieekan smiled, snorting.

"Well, there's a triumph if I ever saw one," he agreed.

Leia interlocked her fingers in her lap, resting her hands there. She sighed.

"There's no need to worry about me, Carlist," she murmured, and then, before she could stop herself, she went on: "I…question what Han wants my role to be in all this. I've taken more control from him than I should have, initially."

Rieekan inclined his head.

"You think he won't want you to be involved?"

Leia gave a small shrug.

"I think he needs me. I think he wants me," she said, her tone cool, and logical. She compressed her lips in a tight line. "He's…he's conflicted. I think he wants me to hate him for it."

"Do you want to be involved?" Rieekan asked.

Leia opened her mouth soundlessly. It was the first time someone had asked her that question directly, which wasn't altogether surprising. Han was too busy recovering from the shock and coping with the fact that he had to be involved. She had placed herself in the middle with the social workers; legally bound herself before anything had settled. Mon was less concerned about her emotions and her personal life than political objectives and Luke – Luke was with Han, now.

She swallowed lightly, and then shook her head, parting her lips.

"I don't think of it in those terms, Carlist," she said honestly. "I am involved. It isn't a matter of, of," she unlaced her fingers, waved one hand vaguely, trying to describe it, "of courtship, of asking myself if I'd be comfortable seeing a man who had a child from a previous relationship," she explained.

She arched a brow.

"Which never would have been an issue in my pre-Rebellion courtships. I'd have been matched with either a virgin or I'd have been told to accept any bastards for the sake of dynasty building," she said frankly.

Carlist smiled a little wryly. Queen Breha and the Viceroy wouldn't have forced a marriage on their daughter, but Leia was sharp enough to realize the positions she might have been put in out of necessity if her marriage could have helped the Rebellion, and she knew how things worked in the Elder circles.

Leia rested a hand on the table lightly.

"That isn't what's happened here," she said softly. "Han and I are," she trailed off, then shrugged, stating it defiantly – though she knew there was no need for defiance with Rieekan, "together."

She looked at Rieekan earnestly, her eyes searching for something.

"We're together," she repeated softly. "It was a fight to get together," she admitted. Her lashes fluttered for a moment; she thought of her father, chastising her in her dreams, cautioning her sternly. Would Carlist do the same? "It isn't as if he's been unfaithful. I certainly don't see it that way."

Rieekan shifted in his seat. He crossed one leg over the other and rested his elbow on his knee, scratching his jaw casually.

"No, I wouldn't see it that way, either," he agreed simply. "Are you angry at him?" Rieekan asked bluntly.

Leia shook her head.

"No," she said.

She still hadn't felt any anger – not anything she defined as anger, and she knew anger. She hadn't had time to sit down and painstakingly sort through everything, but anger was usually an aggressive, strong emotion, and if she felt it, she couldn't find it right now. It would be misplaced anger, anyway; anger directed Han at a point in time when she didn't know him, when she couldn't change things, and that wasn't fair in the slightest.

"It does put pressure on you, Leia," Rieekan said. "I can see Han being unwilling to ask things you didn't commit to when you – committed to him. To re-write the contract, so to speak."

He sighed, lowering his hand to his knee.

"It's no easy thing to learn to be a parent even when it's a child you knew about, you chose to have," he pointed out. "So, now Han's got to learn to be a father – to a child that's known her entire life without him, and you," he paused.

"I don't know what I want to be," Leia said honestly, picking up his train of thought. She shrugged almost harshly. "I do not know what the right course of action is for his daughter, but I know I," she shook her head, her voice softening. "I don't want to leave Han."

Sith, it had only been a couple of days. There was almost nothing changed in their relationship, except this one, huge change – but it didn't change who she was fundamentally, or who he was, in terms of how they loved each other. If Vada turned out to be a nightmare or if things spiraled out of control and they began to all hurt each other, that would be a different thing down the road, but why did she, or Han, have to make that assumption directly?

"Is it naïve of me to accept her and intend to integrate her into Han's life, which I'm apart of? And my life, which Han is apart of? Our life?" she asked, blinking hard, and then looking directly at Rieekan boldly. "Mon spoke to me like I was senseless teenager. Am I being naïve, Carlist?"

He folded his hands on his knee, and took a long time to answer. He took a moment to think over all he'd come to know about her, about Queen Breha, whose Palace Guard he had served for years, and Viceroy Organa, whose Rebellion he had helped command for equally as many years. He thought of all he knew of Han, and of the friends he and Leia surrounded themselves with, and he was able to be honest, and confident, in his advice.

"I do not think you are being naïve," he said firmly. He let that sit for a moment, and went on: "I think there is a troubling tendency in this galaxy to confuse naiveté with optimism. I think that is a tendency that will doom us. I also think that the key element in difficult situations, when it comes to relationships, is that the people involved want to make it work."

He paused a moment, holding her gaze.

"You very clearly want this to work," he said. "And I hope I don't have to tell you that, as always, you have my support."

Leia bit the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling, and inclined her head, unable to speak for a moment. An incredible sense of hope, and relief washed over her – to hear someone tell her that yes, this was all going to be fine – if she kept the faith, if she could keep Han from losing his mind, from running away out of some misguided attempt to make her life easier – it could all be fine.

They had all been thrown curve balls before, hadn't they?

Rieekan sat forward, clearing his throat.

"Now," he began, arching one eyebrow. "Your Highness – could I offer you a considerably strong drink?"

Leia couldn't help but laugh at the touch of mockery he attached to her title, and she leaned back heavily again, exhaustion taking over for a moment. She gave an exaggerated sigh, and nodded – a strong drink was something she ought to have let herself have two days ago.

Han went from his talk with Luke to meet with Rieekan and work out some leave and light duty while everything got settled. He saw Leia briefly there; she was finishing up as he arrived, much as they'd planned it, and gave him an encouraging look. Rieekan was his usual self throughout the conversation, offering neither judgment, nor too much curiosity, which was good. It made the meeting relatively painless, and direct from there he went to relieve Chewbacca of his first babysitting assignment.

He didn't know what he'd expected to find, but when he did get back down to the Falcon, he found nothing interesting or out of the ordinary. Vada was eating a snack and reading a manual on Dejarik strategies.

Han thought it was a weird thing for a kid to be reading, but he didn't say anything about it. He didn't want to make her feel bad. He checked with Chewie about how the day had gone so far, and the Wookiee just shrugged and said all was well and there was nothing to worry about.

"Okay, thanks, pal," Han said, nodding.

They stood in the hallway just outside the main hold, Vada just around the corner, still absorbed at the Dejarik table. Han was careful to keep his voice low, cognizant of being overheard.

"So, uh," he went on. "Whaddaya think I should do now?" he asked.

Chewbacca blinked at him.

[Watch her,] he growled bluntly. [Make sure she does not put anything in her mouth or wander away.]

It was Han's turn to blink. He scratched his chin.

"I don't think I gotta worry about her puttin' stuff in her mouth," he said slowly. "That's babies and toddlers."

[What is the difference? Your species takes so long to mature,] Chewbacca grumbled.

"The difference is she's kinda self-sufficient, to an extent," Han argued under his breath.

[Did Leia tell you that?]

"Yes," Han retorted, annoyed. He sighed, frowning. "I just…don't know…what to do with her," he said through a clenched jaw. "When there's lots of stuff goin' on Leia takes charge but when there's just…time," he waved a hand wildly to indicate his loss.

Chewbacca lifted a paw casually and then reached behind Han's head and tapped him in the skull pointedly. Han's head shot forward, and he scowled, dodging the gentle slap a minute too late.

[Spend time with her,] growled Chewie. [Find out what she likes.]

"I feel like an idiot," Han muttered, rubbing the back of his head and shooting Chewie a glare.

[You will not stop feeling like an idiot until you keep spending time and getting used to it,] Chewie said with a shrug. He pointed towards the ramp, and tapped the tools attached to his belt, grunting. [I'll be repairing that leak in the engine if you need help,] he said, narrowing his eyes, [but if you tell me you need help hanging out with a youngling, I will never let you forget it.]

"Noted," Han muttered sheepishly.

Chewbacca reached out, and Han started to dodge another slap, but this time the Wookiee just gently smoothed his hair, a touch of encouragement. He nodded firmly, and then poked his head around the corner to warble a friendly parting word to Vada before disappearing.

Han stood in the hall for another few minutes before he straightened his shoulders, and strode forward into the main hold to make sure things were going okay. Vada still had her nose buried in the thick Dejarik manual, a tall cup of juice with a straw sticking out clasped in both hands.

She did not look up right away, but after he watched her for a little bit, she finally lifted her head.

"Hi," she said simply.

Han blinked at her a few times. He slid his hands into his pockets.

"Hi," he repeated gruffly. He watched her uncertainly, and then lifted his shoulders. "You, uh, need anything?" he asked. "You doin' okay?" he asked rapidly. He was sure he sounded like a crazy person.

Vada opened her mouth and let the straw she'd been chewing on fall back into her cup. She nodded. Then paused, and shook her head. Then frowned.

"Um," she said. "I do not need things," she said. "I am okay," she clarified.

Han nodded.

"Okay. Good," he said. Then it was his turn to pause. "Sorry I was confusing," he added slowly.

Vada nodded.

"It is okay," she said, flicking her eyes back down to the book. She fiddled with the straw and then leaned forward to take a sip of her juice again.

Han stood with his hands in his pockets a little longer, and then felt distinctly like he might be bothering her if she was busy reading. Leia could be like that sometimes. Not rude, but very preoccupied if he came and asked her something simple while she was focused on something else.

So, he took one hand out of his pocket, and pointed towards the cockpit.

"I'm, uh, gonna be in there," he said. "Workin' on the…navigation computer and…other stuff," he explained. "Come get me if you need somethin.'"

Vada nodded, tapping her heels against the bench as she swung her legs. She cast her eyes back down at the manual, and after a moment of frozen uncertainty, Han turned and shuffled towards the cockpit. He was well aware this is probably not what Chewie had meant when he said 'spend time with her' but he also hesitated to disrupt her if she was doing something that made her happy when he didn't know what to say to her or how to interact.

Strangely, he was focusing on the few times well-to-do Corellian citizens had come by the home he was in – before he'd realized he should just run away – and tried to make themselves feel good by showering the children with gifts and attention. Han had thought them insincere and untrustworthy, and if Vada had developed that sort of view of adults, he didn't want to push himself on her.

She seemed less jaded than other kids he'd known in the home. He figured that was a good thing. She hadn't been in one her whole life, and it seemed like for the most part, Visenya had done much better for Vada than Han's mother had been able to do for him – though he bore his own mother no resentment.

Han had already been as good as a street kid before his mother died. That was not the case for Vada.

He must not have made himself too intimidating or unapproachable, because after about twenty minutes alone in the cockpit, she wandered in very quietly and stood standing near one of the chairs for a moment before clearing her throat very neatly.

"May I sit in that one?" she asked, pointing at Chewbacca's chair.

Han, who had his head under the consoles, nearly smacked a hole in his skull at the unexpected sound of her voice, and hastily tried to pretend nothing had happened as he straightened up. For what it was worth, Vada very solemnly did not laugh, and clearly took his lead pretending it hadn't happened.

He nodded, gesturing.

"Yeah, go 'head," he muttered.

Vada hoisted herself up into Chewie's chair and sat back all the way. Her feet dangled over the edge, and she swung them, making the chair creak slightly. Han started to get up.

"Do you need more juice?" he asked, cringing at himself. Kriff, he sounded matronly, awkward – lame. That wasn't something he should care about, he figured, but – the discomfort was visceral. He was half out of his seat and she was shaking her head calmly.

"No, I just wanted to sit here," she said politely.

"Oh," Han said, sitting back down. He said nothing else. She turned and began to look at the control panel. "Hey, uh – you want a tour of the ship?" he asked. He gestured around the cockpit. "She ain't much, but she – " he suddenly stopped, ordering himself not to say a damn thing about the Kessel run.

"She did the Kessel run very vast," Vada piped up.

Han paused, taken aback. Vada grinned shyly, and dipped her head.

"Mr. Chewbacca told me," she whispered. "He typed it on the screens. He showed me the whole ship. You do not make your bunk," she pointed out.

Han sat back. He tried to process several things: that she was calling Chewbacca "mister," that Chewbacca, of all beings, who usually told Han he was an idiot for caring, had bragged about the Kessel run, and that Vada was – appeared to be – chastising him for not –

"I don't have to make my bunk," he said without thinking. "I'm an adult."

Vada blinked at him.

"I was just observing," she said softly. She hesitated. "I do not make my bed, either," she offered. "I will just, ah, sleep in it again and again," she explained.

Han's mouth turned up a little, amused.

"I speak Corellian," he reminded her. "You can speak Corellian if it's easier for you."

Vada shrugged slowly.

"But…my Basic, it needs getting better," she said. She smiled a little. "And it is, um, rude to speak a language one person does not know well, so for Miss Leia," she trailed off. "She only speaks fancy Corellian."

Han grinned.

"Yeah," he agreed. "She does, doesn't she?"

Vada nodded, smiling. She dipped her head again. Han watched her, and then said:

"You don't have to call Chewbacca 'mister,'" he snorted. "You'll make him feel old."

Vada glanced up. She tilted her head.

"Okay," she said softly.

She turned in the chair, reaching out to grasp the edge of the control panel to control its movements. She glanced at him through her lashes, and then looked away, settling back.

"I was just going to sit," she offered. "You can go back to…your working."

Han rested his hands on his knees, tapping his fingers. He'd been messing around with some wiring, not really working. He was just doing things to keep himself occupied, and he felt clumsy, suddenly, at the idea of her merely sitting and watching him tinker with things.

He cleared his throat, and when she seemed to be occupied staring at all of the buttons and controls, he hesitantly turned back to the Navicomputer – though he did not stick his head back in the console, just in case she surprised him again. He reached up to rub the knot at the back of his head – first Chewbacca's big, oafish paw, then the metal – he was going to give himself a concussion, and Leia would want to know why he was acting even more like a lunatic.

He opened some pointless programs and started examining his most commonly used routes. He hadn't traveled much – didn't have much need to, lately. Didn't have much need for the cloaked routes or strange patterns, either. He idled through some of the programs, wondering if there was one that might interest Vada. He supposed he could – start by asking her if she had interests.

She kept using her hand to move Chewie's chair back and forth. There was a persistent, rhythmic squeaking coming from the that seat every time it swiveled, which might have reminded Han to oil the damn thing if he wasn't so nerve-wracked and distracted by the occupant of it.

Spin, squeak.

He was well aware of how loud it was, and how poignant it seemed in the silence. He wasn't sure the silence qualified as awkward, and he wasn't sure what Vada thought about it.

Spin, squeak.

Vada struggled, thinking about some more to say. She distinctly thought Han was afraid of her, and she wanted to make him less afraid. Less…twitchy, as she'd decided to call it. She wasn't afraid of him, necessarily, but afraid of what would happen if he didn't like her – and she hadn't yet tried calling him 'Dad,' so she decided to do that, since he'd said that's what she probably should call him.

"…Dad?" she ventured quietly.

Han heard the word, but it didn't register like it was supposed to, not right away. His jaw tightened nervously in response, and he blinked, frowning to himself.

"Dad?" she said again, watching him stare at something on the computer.

Spin, squeak; she slowed the chair to a stop.

There was a soft, elongated squeak as the chair moved forward in one direction, and Vada reached out to push her hand against Han's shoulder gently, squeezing it for attention. She nudged his knee with her foot.

"…Han?" she tried this time.

Han looked up tensely and bit back a grimace – not at her, but at himself, for reacting so badly. She leaned back and shrunk down in Chewie's chair a little, drawing one knee up. She grasped her kneecap and smiled at him shyly.

Dad, he thought, wondering how he felt about the word. He'd never used it, that was for damn sure – and Leia never used it; she always called Bail 'father.' What the hell did it mean to be called – Dad?

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "Yeah, sorry, I," he broke off, furrowing his brow. "I'm not used to it."

She slunk down a little more, her curls framing a dark halo around her head. She shrugged –

Spin, squeak.

"It is okay," she said softly. "Me neither," she added, earnestly. "I was trying it."

Han set his jaw.

"I'm gonna, though," he assured her, hoping he sounded sincere – because Leia, despite being as inexperienced with parenthood as he was, did keep saying the key to dealing with children was always being the confident, in control one, so they didn't have to worry. "I'm gonna get used to it, Vada," he said.

He thought he sounded more determined, and he was; he was resolved to get used to it. He was probably going to have to admit to himself at some point that he'd wanted someone to call 'Dad' when he was a kid, so he wanted to step up to that if he could, so Vada wouldn't go through that.

Spin, squeak.

"If you keep me," she piped up unexpectedly.

Han frowned tensely, the words grating on him.

"We're going to keep you," he said automatically – and he wasn't sure he sounded utterly confident, but he hoped there was a way to promise her that. No matter how uncertain he felt, he knew somewhere, deep down, there was no way he'd relinquish his rights or abandon her to the state – he'd been there himself.

He hadn't meant to say we, either, to implicate Leia, or promise her services as – as a mother. It was merely that for some time, he'd decided on Leia as his future, and he'd started thinking in terms of 'we' – and even if this whole situation had brought the natural progression of things to a grinding halt, he still wanted it all to work somehow.

He just happened to mostly feel – inadequate and incompetent, lately.

Spin, squeak.

Han sat back on his heels, looking at her expectantly. She must have wanted something, right? He stayed silent for a moment, waiting, and then offered a guess.

"You, uh…want another snack?" he asked awkwardly.

She shook her head.

"I wanted to ask you a question," she said politely.

"Oh. Okay," Han agreed, shrugging. "Ask away."

She swiveled – spin, squeak! – and pointed arbitrarily.

"What does this button do?"

Han leaned forward in his seat, looking over in that direction and squinting at the toggle she was indicating.

"Hmm," he said. "It's a frequency transmitter," he said. "It scrambles the radar of insectoid species' antennae communication."

Vada drew her hands back and put them in her lap. She looked genuinely amused. She did everything in her power to keep the conversation going, not to make him uncomfortable, but to try to break the ice for them both. She had a talent there – she was so used to sometimes being the more mature person for her mother that it came naturally.

"Neat," she said. "Can I fly the ship?"

Han laughed, and she blushed, thrilled to have made him laugh, because that usually meant people were more relaxed.

"Maybe when you're older," he said dryly.

"How many years were you when you learned to fly?" she asked.

Han thought about it, sitting back.

"Dunno. Small stuff, speeders'n all that, maybe twelve," he said slowly. "Real ships? 'Bout twenty," he remembered – at the academy. He'd really learned how to fly at the academy – but he'd always been a natural.

Vada nodded. Now she knew something about him. He folded his hands in his lap tensely, and she hesitated, biting her lip. She kept spinning in the chair, trying to decide if she wanted to ask her next question – and she thought it was best, because really, she was confused.

Spin, squeak.

"Is Miss Princess Leia your wife?" she asked, turning her eyes up brightly. She had to know – everything seemed to indicate that, but then Miss Leia hadn't answered when the social services people had asked her directly. But maybe she was trying to keep secrets?

Han stared at her – the button - then the ship – then Leia? What … ? Why did he feel like he couldn't keep up? She – what a strange conversational trajectory – but at least she was talking, that kept him from having to wonder what she was thinking, or if she was uncomfortable.

"No," Han answered slowly. "She's not."

Vada fiddled with some peeling leather on Chewie's chair, coming to a stop with her spinning-and-squeaking. She leaned her elbow on the frayed spot, and then put her chin on her hand.

"Oh."

That was all she said – 'oh.' Han gave her a mildly amused look.

"Uh," he started. "Why'd you ask?"

Vada shrugged. She poked her finger into the leather. She seemed to think about it for a moment. She just wanted to be sure.

"I like her," she mumbled. "She is nice."

Han smiled.

"Yeah? I like her, too," – well, there was a topic they could relate on.

Vada took a deep breath.

"Do you think she is mad about me?" she asked slowly. She hadn't felt like the Princess had any negative feelings towards her, but she couldn't be sure. She was smart enough to know that might cause problems, even if she was still pretty little in the grand scheme of the world. Her mother had ignored her sometimes when she had a new boyfriend – not mean ignoring, just…flighty ignoring. And in those cases, Vada had been there first. In this case…Vada knew she was…second.

Han blinked, taken aback.

"Why?" he asked abruptly. "She's not – no, I don't," he fumbled. "She's not mad."

Vada looked at him cautiously.

"Mommy had boyfriends who did not like me," she said quietly.

Han leaned forward. His mouth felt dry, and he didn't want to speak for Leia, but for once, he tried to believe in everything she'd been saying to them since Vada was all but dropped on their doorstep in a basket with a bow –

"Leia's not mad at me or you," he said gruffly. Saying out loud, maybe he could make himself believe it – Leia was adamant that she wasn't. He had to believe her- and he sure as hell wanted to enforce that for Vada.

Vada rolled her eyes up with a relieved sigh, and nodded, apparently believing him. She licked her lips and then sat forward.

The chair emitted another doleful squeak.

"I think she likes it when I say her name like, Mrs. Solo," she said – and Han almost laughed; her words could come out so oddly sometimes, if only because she spoke too fast for her brain to translate Corellian-to-Basic. He did know Leia thought her little accent was adorable; she'd said as much this morning, when Vada came up with a strange portmanteau and then blushed as she tried to find the right word.

"Does she?" he muttered.

Vada nodded – "Yes, Han," she agreed.

He took a deep breath, and looked at her seriously.

"Hey, don't call me that," he said gently. "I got to get used to the other thing, remember?"

Vada sat back, putting her hands to her cheeks shyly.

"Okay, Dad," she said.

She liked that much better.

He folded his arms, leaning back in his chair.

"So why d'you think Leia likes it when you call her that?" he asked – mostly to keep up conversation, but also because he was…interested.

"Hmm," Vada murmured slowly. "She smiles," she said. "And, ah, she did not ever say she was not, when I called her like that," she explained. "So, I think she likes it," she concluded.

Han grinned.

"Smart," he said.

He tilted his head, and lifted his chin.

"Hey, what'd you mean your mom's boyfriends didn't like you?" he asked.

Vada shrugged. She drew both legs up into the chair, and wrapped her arms around them. She scrunched up her nose thoughtfully.

"Mommy was pretty," she said, and switched to Corellian fluidly. "Kind of annoying when a pretty lady has a kid hanging around the apartment." Vada frowned. "She didn't always tell them she had me, so I was a surprise."

Han snorted.

"Do you think I look like my mom?" Vada asked abruptly.

Han tilted his head.

"You got hair like hers," he said. "Yeah, you look like her," he said.

Vada put her cheek on her knees.

"She said I look like you," she muttered.

Han lifted his hand and pointed two fingers at his eyes, and then at hers, back and forth.

"It's these," he said gruffly. "Eyes."

Vada smiled. She buried her face for a moment, and said nothing else. Han watched her, noticing that he'd relaxed considerably while talking. So, maybe it wasn't so hard to talk to a kid – 'course, she'd been leading most of the conversation, which was a lot of pressure on her.

She lifted her head.

"Do you have any, um, book chips?" she asked. She bit her lip. "I like to read. Mr…Chewie gave me the Dejarik manual because I wanted to know all the playing ways," she explained.

Han nodded.

"I think I got some. Leia has some here. I, uh," he said, thinking of something suddenly, "I got to make sure there's not…stuff that's not for kids in them," he said, frowning. "Think a lot of my stuff's just…about engine repair," he muttered.

"That's okay," Vada said earnestly. "I read a book all about hyperspace in the home because that was all that was there," she explained. "It was hard sometimes, because the words, and I did not, um, I need more school," she said. "But I like hard reading."

Han nodded. He stood up slowly, and started to go look, and then he paused. He stepped back, and slid his hands into his pockets, shrugging.

"Hey, uh – why don't we just go buy some stuff for you?" he offered. That was something to do, wasn't it? Leia kept making references to making her feel at home, well, maybe this was a mission to go on for now, to give them both a focus, and to give Vada something more to do than sit awkwardly in a guest room when they were at home, pretending she was doing something.

Vada sat up a little, but looked wary.

"I," she started, biting her lip. "I do not need…things to be, bought for me," she said slowly, back to her Basic. "I do not want to be, um, the word is – rotten?"

"Spoiled," Han said automatically. He shook his head. "Nah, you just need stuff. C'mon, I'll get some book chips. Don't worry," he encouraged – he suddenly very much wanted her to agree to this. He wanted to take her to buy things.

Vada still looked wary.

"Miss Leia will not mind?" she asked.

Han blinked, taken aback. Then he arched one eyebrow. He pointed to himself.

"I got my own credits, Vada," he said, laughing a little. "I can buy stuff. It's not Leia's money."

Vada stared at him, and then unfolded her legs.

"Oh," she breathed. "Well," she still seemed uncertain, so Han beckoned to her firmly.

"C'mon," he said again. "You're gonna live with us. You're stayin', so you got to have stuff. It's normal. Leia was better to get you clothes. I can do, y'know, book chips. Uhh, toys," he said, forcing the confidence.

Vada swallowed hard. She thought he was doing everything right just then – and she couldn't help but be excited at the idea of book chips. New book chips! She hadn't had new ones in so long – she tried not to look too thrilled, but her heart soared. She let it for now – she had to. She just wasn't grown up enough yet to force herself to be jaded when she didn't want to be.

Han stared at the flickering holo screen. His elbows dug into his knees sharply, and he kept rubbing his jaw tensely. He was certain that after the past few days, his constant frowning and looks of confusion, consternation, and caution had etched permanent wrinkles into his forehead that he was far too young to have.

He wasn't listening to it anymore. Leia had muted it. She'd gotten up to get him a drink, and she was back with it now, nudging his shoulder with it firmly. She kept pressing the icy glass into him, more and more insistently, until he finally straightened up a little and took it.

"Don't wait on me," he muttered.

Leia plucked the glass right back out of his hands and sat down next to him, leaning back lazily on the sofa. She shrugged, and tipped a little of the whiskey to her own lips, pursing them sharply.

"You weren't getting anywhere fetching it yourself," she pointed out, swirling the liquid around casually to release the aroma.

Kriff, I need a drink, he'd mumbled in a strained groan, when Leia received a comm advising her to turn on the news, and there on the screen had been a perfectly clear image of Han and Vada out and about in public.

He'd continued to sit numbly listening to the raucous speculation that went along with the photos, until Leia got up with a sniff and went to fetch it for him. She'd muted it as she walked out of the room, too, likely in response to the tongue-in-cheek suggestion that this was a child Leia had actually had during the war, and she and Han had been hiding her all these years.

Which was, by any calculation, an absurd suggestion – Leia hadn't known Han seven years ago, and Vada was not only clearly older than four, but of mixed skin.

Leia crossed one leg over the other and poked at Han's thigh with her foot. She waved the glass at him temptingly when he glanced back at her, and then sat forward with a sigh, offering it to him again.

"Han," she murmured. "It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when," she pointed out.

Mon was the one who had called her to tell her there was a photo circulating. Though every Media outlet was running with it, a handful of the reputable ones had contacted Mon's press team for a quote. Mon had offered no comment, but had alerted Leia, which Leia appreciated.

"Yeah," Han said, thrusting his hand out, "but this is my fault," he said, his teeth clenched. "S'all over the damn holos 'cause I was paradin' her around like no one would see."

"You can't be expected to hide," Leia argued quietly. "You took her to buy things to make her feel more comfortable. There's no harm in that," she said, arching her brows. "That's good. I'm glad you did that," she said emphatically.

She was relieved, in fact, but she didn't go as far as to say that. She didn't want Han to think she doubted his ability – but she was glad to see he'd taken a huge step in spending time with Vada because that foundation desperately needed to be laid, and it couldn't afford to wait until he and Leia figured themselves out.

Han shook his head, and glared back at the screen.

Leia sighed heavily.

"I know you weren't – aren't – ready for this kind of…public attention," she said. "Neither am I, but at least it's on your terms," she pointed out, trying to find a silver lining for him.

Han leaned back hard, his shoulder brushing hers as he leaned back against the cushions. He tilted his head back, glancing over his shoulder towards the hallway, his expression wary.

"She's still in the 'fresher," Leia noted. "Water's running."

Han grunted, and nodded. He looked down at his lap, and then reached over, taking the glass of whiskey from Leia.

"My terms?" he quoted skeptically. "How'd you figure?" He gestured at the screen, his face buried in the whiskey glass. "I didn't want that to happen," he grumbled, taking a sip.

Leia's eyes drifted to the image that was, for what it was worth, permanently shown in a split screen on the channel they were watching as the Media commented. It featured Han with Vada outside of a library, with a new backpack he'd obviously bought for her slung over his back. His hand rested on Vada's shoulder, corralling her away from crowds – neither of them noticed that a holo was focused on them, but Vada was grinning, and pointing at another store.

She wanted a library account, Han told Leia when she got home. I told her I'd buy her chips, but she wanted an account. Isn't that funny?

"No," Leia agreed, turning her head back to him. "But she's with you, and it's just a nondescript photo," she explained. "It's not a leak from social services, or a leak from…anyone else," she said. "We knew the galaxy would find out about this. I never planned on hiding it, but I wasn't going to call a press conference, either – this is a decent narrative," she said firmly.

She gestured at the holo.

"You, out with her in public, barely a few days after you find out about her," she said softly. "You can certainly dispel any notions that you're ashamed of her. That will be a good thing for her to know."

Han twitched his shoulders uncomfortably, tilting another dram of whiskey into his mouth.

"'M not ashamed of her," he muttered sincerely. "None of this is her fault."

Leia nodded in agreement.

Han balanced the glass on his knee; his knuckles white, and let his head fall back, staring dully at the ceiling. He ground his teeth together roughly, and then closed his eyes, reaching up with his other hand to rub his forehead stiffly.

"This is gonna come down on you, though," he said. "I don't want that. I don't want this affectin' you, messin' with your work – "

"I've dealt with my personal life in the spotlight my entire life. It's nothing new," Leia interrupted dismissively. "You and I both will just do the same thing we've done when they speculate about our relationship; ignore it, let them gossip – except I'll put out a statement making it clear that Vada is a minor, and off-limits pursuant to several protection laws – "

"But I don't want you to have to deal with – " Han started.

"Han," she snapped curtly, sitting forward. Her knee hit his and sloshed some of the whiskey onto his pants and the couch. He looked down at it, and then back up at her. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" he asked warily.

Leia snatched the glass from his hand, her knuckles tightening on it.

"Whatever complex you have that has you separating 'you and me' from what's going on with 'you and your daughter,'" she hissed, "get rid of it. This does 'affect me,'" she quoted, her heart racing. "If that bothers you, find a way to get over it. I've said this nicely and I don't want to have to say it again: I love you; you are part of my life, so I am a part of this – that is the end of it."

She compressed her lips, and lifted her eyebrows.

"Unless something has changed?" she demanded, her expression hard. "You want to pack up with her and Chewie and go back to Corellia, walk out of my life? Because if you want this to be over, you have to end it. You have no idea how fucking hard it would be to make me walk out the door on you."

She jerked her arm out, pointing with the glass at the entrance hall, and then pulled the whiskey back towards her and finished the shot, swallowing hard. She thrust the tumbler down on the table and it skidded, nearly falling off the edge.

Han lunged forward to stop it from doing so, swallowing hard. He stared at the glass as he steadied it, his eyes wide, sharply aware of Leia leaning back heavily on the couch beside him.

She drew her hand up to her lips, biting down on her nail. She closed her eyes lightly, reeling herself in from the outburst. It was rough, passionate, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She had no idea how hard this was going to be, or where it would go – but she hadn't known the future last week, either, before Vada. For all she knew, some worse challenge could emerge later, something worse than a little orphaned girl who just needed a home.

Whatever happened, Leia could not for a moment see it fundamentally changing Han from the person she'd fallen in love with, and that was what mattered to her. And she couldn't imagine anything happening that would make her suddenly hate this situation – she supposed there was a chance Han could decide having Leia around was too confusing right now, or Vada might grow to resent her or –

But it was too early to make decisions based on ifs and suppositions. And Leia was more worried about she and Han inadvertently cutting each other out from the beginning, which would only make things worse in the long run.

She wanted her feelings made clear.

She compressed her lips to keep herself from bursting into tears, but the tears weren't really there. She felt like crying, but she didn't think she could, and it was all stress – nothing else, really.

She lowered her hand, and parted her lips to breath out, blinking as she tilted her head back.

Han ran his hands over his face and sat back. He turned to the side and slid his arm hesitantly around Leia's middle, pressing his forehead into her shoulder. He shook his head slowly.

"Leia, I don't want to leave," he mumbled heavily.

He started to say something else, and broke off, sighing. He didn't know what else to say, and he didn't want to piss her off again. Her skin was warm, flushed, and he could sense some insecurity there – he wasn't going to leave her, and he desperately didn't want her to think that.

He furrowed his brow, pulling her closer at the waist.

"You just never had it easy, huh?" he muttered hesitantly.

Leia sighed.

"Cry me a river," she mumbled. "None of the bad things that happened to me were your fault, Han. And I did have it easy," she added firmly, "for quite a while. I'm an adult. I don't need you to shield me from the world," Leia licked her lips. "She does," she added, tilting her head back vaguely. "You can do that for her."

His head rested on her heavily, and she reached up to touch his cheek, sliding her hands through his hair and letting it stay there. She held his head against her shoulder. He turned his nose against her shoulder, sighing gruffly.

"'M not tryin' to coddle you, Sweetheart," he said hoarsely. "I just wanted to be one thing in your life that didn't 'cause a problem."

She bit her lip, touched. She softened her voice, when she spoke next:

"Since when, huh?" she coaxed gently. "You chased me through hallways, you called me names, you picked fights, you made me confront all these feelings I was scared of," she clicked her tongue. "You're a walking problem, Han Solo, and you got me anyway," she teased.

She felt him smile, and she pinched his jaw affectionately, turning towards him. She kissed the bridge of his nose, and tucked her head to kiss his lips, a lingering but chaste kiss.

He kissed her back, and she cupped his cheek in her hand, catching his eye pointedly.

"The gossip, the Media," she shook her head. "It's all background noise. You have to focus on Vada," she encouraged softly. "You'll be glad to know I'm mature enough not to take that as a rejection of me."

Han tilted his head back a little, nodding. He hesitated, though – he didn't want Leia in a position where she felt like she couldn't come to him if she was struggling. If she had nightmares, if she was dealing with something – he'd always been her outlet for that. He didn't want to take that outlet away from her because she thought he needed all of his faculties for Vada.

That's what scared him most. That he might need everything in him to adjust to this Vada thing – and Sith, how he'd hate himself if he ever neglected Leia because of it.

She drew a hand down to his chest, as if she knew what he was thinking.

"We just have to talk," she whispered. "We have to keep talking to each other."

Han leaned forward to kiss her again.

"Well," he drawled, "I do like the sound of your voice."

She smirked, but pressed a hand to his chest at the sound of footsteps in the stairs. She sat up a little, clearing her throat loudly, and rested her elbow on the back of the sofa in time to see Vada peek around the corner.

She smiled at them and stepped into the living room, her hair still dripping. There was a towel draped around her shoulders, and she'd thrown on a cozy sweater and pajama pants.

"Was your 'fresher okay?" Leia asked.

Vada nodded – Leia had been uncertain if a child her age was allowed to be in the 'fresher alone; she herself had always been surrounded by attendants and couldn't remember. Vada – understandably – insisted she was fine by herself, which Leia figured she'd say even if she weren't.

She was glad to see there had been no accident.

"Um," Vada started, holding up a comb she'd brought with her. She hesitated, biting her lip.

Han turned his head to see what was going on, sitting up straighter. Vada tapped the comb against her shoulder.

"You, um," she said, cutting her eyes at Leia. "Said maybe you could…help with my hair?"

Leia nodded, beckoning to her. Vada smiled in relief and came forward, darting around the sofa and handing the comb to Leia shyly. She pointed to her head.

"It knots really bad in the back," she explained. "I cannot…get it so well."

"Mmhmm," Leia said. "My hair is straight so it's easy to just yank a brush through it," she said. "Yours needs more attention so it doesn't break – I know," she agreed.

Like she'd said, her cousins had textured, curly hair – her mother had, her aunts had; it was an Organa and an Antilles trademark. A fairly constant reminder that Leia was not, in that respect, one of them.

"Come here," Leia instructed. "Stand in front of me."

"Should I sit?" Vada asked.

"No, you aren't too tall," Leia murmured.

Han sat up, eyeing them warily. Leia used the towel around Vada's shoulders to squeeze the edges of her hair dry gently, eyeing the mane critically.

"Do you only want it detangled?" Leia asked. "Or would you," she paused, hesitating, "ah, would you like me to braid it?" she asked cautiously, unsure if Vada would feel that was overstepping, or being too personal.

Vada's head whipped around, her eyes wide with barely contained excitement.

"Can you?" she asked breathlessly. "Can you please? I do not – know how to do it so well, and I have just had to," she waved her hands, miming single tails or top knots, "twist it up, messy."

She made a face, and Leia smiled. She nodded.

"I can braid it," she said calmly. She gestured to her own hair. "Something plain, so it keeps it neat while you sleep?" she asked.

Vada nodded fervently, and Leia indicated that she should turn around. Han watched apprehensively, as Leia took a moderate handful of Vada's hair, and began gently working the comb first through the wild ends, and then slowly through the rest of it – painstaking and meticulous.

"Hair," she said, not quite sure why she offered it, "was – is," she corrected firmly; there was a diaspora, after all; the death of Alderaan did not have to mean the death of all it had been, "very significant in my culture. My mother always did my hair, but I was taught using her hair."

Vada nodded, then gasped, and stopped moving, remembering Leia was working on her hair. Leia smirked, her eyes flicking up to the screen. She shot a subtle look over at Han.

"Turn that off," she said simply.

He sat forward and began looking around for the clicker. Vada tilted her head just slightly at the screen.

"Is that me?" she asked, as the image dimmed and faded to nothing, the projector cube falling into a humming sleep.

Leia said nothing. She glanced at Han through her lashes giving him a pointed look, and nodding down at Vada.

"Yeah, uh, someone took a holo of us," Han said gruffly. "But it's not your problem, okay?" he went on.

Vada cocked an eyebrow.

"Because of, things you already said?" she asked. "Because you and Miss Leia are famous."

Han grunted a yes.

"Leia," Leia corrected quietly. "Just Leia."

Vada nodded, blushing. Han glanced at her sideways, and then cleared his throat, and got up, taking the empty whiskey glass off the table.

"Vada, uh, d'you want some hot chokolate?" he asked intuitively.

She whipped her head out of Leia's hands, and Leia paused patiently. Vada winced, murmuring an apology to Leia, and then leaning back. She gave a small nod.

"Yes, please," she said quietly.

Han nodded. He stepped around the table and headed towards the kitchen. He stopped and turned around, watching Leia calmly work the comb through Vada's dark curly hair. She asked Vada what book chips she'd checked out today. Vada answered, animated by the question. He knew he and Leia would have to talk to her a little more about what it meant that she was in the news – and he also wondered what that would mean for how the social workers viewed things.

For the moment though, this moment, he just stood there, watching Leia style her hair. It seemed utterly surreal that this – this was it now? This was just – life?

How was he ever supposed to get used to that?

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

"Flower Witchcraft"

Leia was seething when she arrived at work. As a general rule, she despised starting her days on a negative note, but she had been unable to dampen the emotions crawling through her as she gave a curt word to her assistant and ushered Vada into her office. Ten minutes later, laden with guilt over how irritable she'd been with the assistant, Leia called her in and apologized.

The assistant just bowed her head, unaffected, and murmured something about knowing the difference between what was personal, and what was just stress of the job. Leia still felt sour over how snippy she'd been - her parents would be mortified that she'd let an outside nuisance colour her interaction with a faithful and blameless colleague.

She hoped at least Vada didn't think too ill of her for snapping at the scheduler, but Vada had been quiet and pale-faced since Leia had swept her out of the Media melee and brought her safely inside to the fortress that was New Republic headquarters. The old Imperial Palace had been gutted and re-imagined as the hub of the rising new democracy. Mon Mothma worked out of the Emperor himself's old suite, Rieekan out of the dungeons, and Leia out of a series of audience rooms, the last of which was a private office with a window that gave a sprawling view of Coruscant.

It was a view she did not particularly like. She'd always thought Coruscant magnificently ugly, but Vada had been staring out the window for a while now, thoughtful. Leia wasn't sure if she was mesmerized by the rabid activity outside, or if she just wanted to appear occupied. Whatever it was, Leia let her be, as she booted everything up to start her day and dried to stamp down her indignation and bitterness - really, all of that fuss, all of that madness, over a child.

Why did the Media care so much about a little curly-haired, brown-eyed specter of Han's past; why did the galaxy at large? Which fueled the other, which started the cycle? Did the Media rage because the galaxy cared, or did the galaxy care because the Media shoveled scandals down their throats? It was a futile question, and Leia knew it was a little of both. She and her cohort would perhaps be able to rehabilitate some of the salivating need the public had for muckraking and titillation - the Emperor had instilled that in them well enough; it directed their attentions from the macabre - but they would never really douse public interest in popular figures.

Leia reached up, rubbing her shoulder hard, compressing her lips to hide a grimace. Picking Vada up hadn't been her smartest decision. It wasn't that she was that heavy, she was actually rather slight, lighter than Leia assessed her to be, but that didn't matter. Leia was short and her muscles lacked conditioning since the official end of the war and the cessation of her time in the trenches. Still, the act had made a point, driven home a message: this girl was off limits, and if they swarmed her and terrified her again, Leia would give them hell.

She wished she hadn't dragged Vada to work with her, more for Vada's sake than her own. The past week - had it been a week, or two? Leia was having trouble remembering when exactly Vada had showed up - had been frustrating, as she and Han sheltered away from the press inquiry that arose over the holos of him out with Vada. Leia taking a handful of leave days had fueled the fire, but it had at least allowed them to keep Vada out of the public eye as best as possible while Leia spoke to her about the interest of millions.

She was not flaunting Vada; she had brought her with her to the office out of necessity more than anything else. Han had his baseline evaluative interview with social services, and after that he was set to come get her, but Leia hadn't wanted to make a habit of locking Vada up with Chewie - or expecting Chewie to constantly watch her - and she had a sneaking suspicion that any interactions with social services made Vada exceedingly nervous, so Leia wanted her close. Mon Mothma was likely watching the morning's footage and developing a migraine, but Leia could not be bothered to care. She had more important things on her mind than Mon's delicate sensibilities regarding this whole thing.

Like Han. She wasn't worried bout his performance in his interview, but she was worried about him. This had not yet started to feel normal - and yet at the same time, it felt eerily normal. Vada had been with them for, give or take a few blurry days, about two weeks. Han was more adjusted, Leia was accepting - yet when it came to power dynamics, Han still seemed to take the lead directly from Vada, and then defer to Leia when they were all together. She did not know what he thought she had that he didn't, except that she'd met Vada first, and she'd found it easier to communicate with her immediately after meeting her. Leia didn't necessarily mind his deference to her, but she had to find a time to remind him she didn't know what she was doing either, and it was vitally important he build a relationship with Vada.

She often found herself struck by how ludicrous this all seemed - it was a twist in life she'd never imagined, and though it lacked the brutality of the other great shocks in her life, it was still both humbling, and daunting.

For what it was worth, Vada had seemed thrilled at the idea of accompanying Leia to work. Much of that thrill had likely faded, when she'd had holos and mics shoved in her face, but more than anything else Vada was an overall positive kid - or made herself out to be - and was earnest, accommodating, and understanding.

Leia tried to remember the first time she herself had been ambushed with Media interest. She'd been older, that was for sure; Alderaan's media apparatus was elite and refined, focused on factual, neat reporting, not salacious bombardment. Personal lives had been rigorously respected, and her parents had protected her privacy diligently. Maybe she'd been - fourteen, fifteen, on Coruscant? It had been sometime at the Diplomatic Academy. She'd joined a protest group during one of her summers there and defaced a statue of the Emperor with them. Stormtroopers had arrested her, then notified the Elder Council when they realized who she was. Her father had brought her directly home, pulling her from the program and giving her a dressing down like she'd never had before. Even her mother had been angry, and Queen Breha was rarely angry.

Looking back now, Leia realized they hadn't been angry, they had been terrified. Terrified because they knew what she hadn't really discovered until she was captive in a Death Star cell: that privilege ran out eventually when tyranny was the name of the game. The loss of her youth and innocence was almost worth it when it had also been the catalyst for many - many - of the wealthy upper echelon to realize that even they weren't safe under the iron fist of the Empire.

Idly, Leia tapped at her console control panel and sorted through the diplomatic notes, messages, and fiery tirades that had come in last night. There were, as expected, multiple requests for comment from Media outlets. She only saved one; it was from a Naboo-based syndicate that employed several members of the Alderaanian diaspora and was renowned for its impeccable, honest reporting. When the time was right, she'd give them a statement, and a minimal one at that.

Walking the line between maintaining privacy, yet making clear that she was not ashamed of something private, was a skill she'd learned early in her career. Cover-ups always bred more discontent and animosity than crimes themselves, though of course, Leia was not covering anything up, and Vada was not a crime.

Leia narrowed her eyes at a message from a financier from one of the banks that maintained Organa fortunes. His message was unctuous but suspicious, asking her to please get into contact with her financial advisers so they could educate her on fraud schemes and the parameters of her inheritance. She rolled her eyes into the back of her head for a moment, and then filed it away for later. She resisted a strong, though childish, urge to simply message back that she'd already signed over her entire fortune to the smuggler bastard because she was just so, so, smitten, and punctuate it with a smiling animated icon.

Faceless, persnickety bankers who really thought she was too unaware of the world to watch for scams were the least of her worries at the moment.

She glanced up at Vada. She was still staring out the window, and it was starting to worry Leia. She cleared her throat softly.

"Vada, do you want some tea? Juice?" she asked.

Han had made breakfast this morning, but Leia still offered.

Vada turned her head. She considered Leia a moment, and then nodded.

"Juice, please," she agreed. "I do not mind what kind." She paused, and then gestured at the window. "I was just looking at all the razzi," she offered. She raised her hands, and mimicked clicking a holograph dramatically. "They are still gathered."

Leia hit a buzzer under her desk, and then got up, going over to the window. She peered down to the expansive courtyard, surveying the milling journalists around the entrance. It was not uncommon for them to hang out there, hoping for quotes for the nightly news recaps, but there were more than usual. Her skin crawled uncomfortably when she noticed one, standing away from the group, directing an ultra-sensitive lens up at the building. She rested her arm around Vada's shoulders, and pulled her back.

"Come away from the window," she suggesting, pointing at the various armchairs, and the sofa, that were neatly arranged in the large office.

"Can they see me?" Vada asked, interested. She twisted to look back at the window as Leia gently coaxed her to a seat.

"Perhaps," she answered slowly, looking up as her office door opened. An assistant, responding to the buzzer. "Pallie juice, please, and a kaf," she requested. "And, can you have Tyruh escort the reporter with the 'scope lens to my anterior receiving room?"

The assistant nodded firmly, and slipped back out. Leia smiled pleasantly at Vada, and then cocked her head.

"Is 'razzi' slang?" she asked. "I'm not familiar."

Vada nodded. Her feet dangled over the edge of the chair, not even close to touching the floor.

"Corellia street slang," she clarified pointedly. "It is for news people who write bad stories."

Leia laughed. She leaned against the arm of the chair.

"Well, that describes those vultures well," she noted mildly - that was what they were; nasty birds of prey itching for emotional flesh to devour. She arched a brow. "Is it a bad slang word?" she asked, wondering if she should correct Vada when she said it.

Vada looked genuinely interested.

"I am not very sure," she replied. She shrugged. "I did not, well, how do you say - I was not raised in a way that words are bad," she explained, squinting. "Mommy never really told me to, ah, not say words. And in the home, pssshhh," Vada shook her head, eyes wide, "little kids say all kinds of things."

Leia wanted to think Vada's mother had just been progressive about language, but she doubted that was why Vada had not been taught the value of differentiating between words that offended, and words that didn't. Swearing or cursing did not particularly faze Leia, but she firmly believed rough language ought to be reserved for an intimate inner circle, and informal settings only. Loosing it unexpectedly on strangers or colleagues was ill informed.

"I do know that kriff is the bad one, though," Vada said conversationally, "in Basic, the translation is 'fuck.'"

Leia bit back a snort.

"Yes, well," she said. "You are right about that. You - well, you," Leia faltered. She furrowed her brow a little - was she supposed to discipline Vada? Would Han mind? She frowned. "Vada, just...refrain from using words like that," she suggested. "They offend some people."

"Oh," Vada said mildly. "But, they are words, just words."

"I know," Leia agreed, "and I don't know who decided they are 'bad,' but some people don't like them. Even if you think that's silly, respecting other people's sensitivities is the decent thing to do, when it's something innocuous as that."

Leia added the last part in case they ran into trouble later. Mostly because respecting sensitivities only went so far. Refraining from swearing was a courtesy, but if a person claimed their 'sensitivities' were why they had slaves, well, that was cause for a fight.

"I think that is nice," Vada said. "Making other people comfortable." She scrunched up her nose thoughtfully. "You should tell my dad," she added in a conspiratorial voice. "He told me 'fuck' means 'kriff' when I heard him yell it and asked what it meant."

Leia arched a brow dubiously. She supposed she should be more surprised that thus far, Han had managed to make an impression by educating his daughter in swear words, but she wasn't. She made a mental note to remind him, again, to stop swearing so much. It was second nature and he wasn't thinking it through, but he had to speak more carefully now. He had to set good examples.

To break the moment of silence, the door opened, and an assistant came in with a tray - the juice and kaf. Tyruh, Leia's head of security, lingered in the doorway, a sharp expression on her face. She toyed with the snap of a holster at her side and jerked her head with a subtle lift of her nose, indicating the journalist Leia had requested was present in the antechamber. Leia excused herself, and shut her office door, leaving Vada in there alone.

Vada sat forward and took a sip of her juice, looking curiously at the things that sat alongside Leia's cup of kaf. It appeared the Princess sweetened her kaf with a little cube of honeysugar and a spoonful of heavy cream. A tiny bit of sweetness to set off the overpowering bitterness. Vada scooted forward and mixed the contents together for her, catching her tongue between her teeth. She heard a raised voice, and then, Leia's voice, louder, but cold and passionless - then silence.

A few moments later, Leia came back in, and did not say a word. Vada watched her sit down, distracted, and after a moment, she got up, taking the kaf with her. She hesitantly placed it on the desk next to Leia's control pad, pointing down at the steaming liquid.

"I mixed the things for you," she said. "So it would not get cold, and all go sticky to the bottom."

Leia pursed her lips, her brows going up.

"Thank you," she said warmly, reaching for the mug.

Vada nodded, and beamed. She retreated to sit with her juice, and then restlessly got up, clutching the cup in one hand.

"May I look around? Your office?" she asked shyly.

"Yes," Leia murmured.

Vada explored, examining hard-copy books that Leia chose to display, taking in diplomatic gifts, peeking in drawers - things were very pristine and impersonal. Vada thought that indicated that Leia was a very serious person when it came to her work, and kept it separate from her private life. Or tried to. There were no pictures of Han around, and no pictures of she and Han together. Vada felt a little silly for thinking they were married - and she hoped she hadn't embarrassed Han when she asked him.

She still secretly thought Leia liked being called Mrs. Solo. If she didn't, she would have corrected Vada...right?

Leia read a new message that popped onto her screen, this one from Luke. She'd asked him last night if he could drop by today - he hadn't yet been around to meet Vada, and she thought this was a good, neutral location. They could get to know each other a little, in case she had to run out before Han got back - and this way, prior to their first home visit at some point in the next week, Vada would have met everyone who was being vetted by social services and could at least give some opinion on them, if she wanted to.

"Vada," she murmured. "Would you be okay with meeting my brother today?" she asked.

Vada paused, looking up from a glass display of historical currencies that hung in one of Leia's cabinets. She tried not to show too much enthusiasm.

"You mean - Luke Skywalker?" she asked.

The enthusiasm was there, almost bubbling over. She blushed, but Leia looked up over her terminal screen, and smiled warmly. She noted the look of anticipation in Vada's eyes. It was an alert, curious look. She'd said 'Luke Skywalker' the way many people did these days - as if he was myth become man. He was, clearly, little more than an iconic storybook like figure to her, and Leia knew that would make Luke feel silly, grounded and humble as he was. To him, the crux of this fight had been a man finding and saving his father; it was personal - only recently had Luke undertaken a more expansive Jedi destiny.

Vada swallowed hard, trying to feign only mild interest.

"I am okay, yes," she agreed.

Leia smiled at her knowingly, and responded to Luke's message, telling him to head her way at his next convenience. The lack of immediate response told her he was probably already doing just that. Her wired console rang, and she swept the headset off its hook, dropping it over her head effortlessly. She spoke briefly with Jan Dodonna regarding the finer points of treaty negotiations she was involved in, then pushed the headset down around her neck and scanned some of the holo alerts she had set up on her system.

She took in the lurid headlines without much interest.

Bring Your (Love)child to work day? - Princess Leia carries boyfriend Han Solo's mistakes! - Princess Leia or Queen Mother? - Who is Vada Vardalos?!

It hadn't been long after the initial photo of Han and Vada appeared that outlets obtained her name and birthday. The birth record was public, as was Visenya Vardalos's correction of it when she added Han as the biological father. So, at least in that regard, they had correct information. Anything else on Vada was close hold, and Leia had yet to see anything unsavory published about her mother. Though, to be fair, she was filtering certain buzzwords out of her news intake for now.

"Miss Leia?" Vada asked.

She came closer, and set her cup down on the desk, inching closer to Leia cautiously.

Leia looked up.

"Vada," she said gently. "Please – please – just call me Leia. People close to me do. It isn't disrespectful," she told her.

Vada's face flushed happily – she liked that apparently that meant she was considered close to Princess Leia. She nodded, and tapped her index finger against her cup rhythmically.

"Leia," she started again. She did think it sounded off, though. She wasn't used to calling grown-ups by just their first name. Not without some kind of honorific. "Do you know," Vada asked conversationally, "why I never met my dad before now?"

She asked it so blithely, Leia wasn't sure if it was rhetorical, or genuine – she wasn't sure if Vada was asking because she didn't know, or if she did know, and wanted to tell Leia all about it.

Leia sat back from her terminal, and tilted her head, looking intently at the little girl. Vada blushed again and dipped her chin, taking a sip out of her juice. She seemed to regret being so forward, so Leia tried to respond quickly so she wouldn't feel like her questions were unwelcome.

"Hmm, well," she said carefully. "Are you asking me, or are you trying to tell me?" she returned gently.

"Asking you," Vada answered.

Leia contemplated that. She felt a flicker of irritation at Vada's late mother – she obviously wasn't going to say anything spiteful, but the explanation that came to her lips was accusatory – because your flighty mother didn't think Han deserved to know – But then, she'd be putting herself in the position of not only bad-mouthing a dead woman, and Vada's dead mother, at that, but she'd be painting Han a certain way, making it seem as if he'd have absolutely settled down and been around.

"He didn't know about you," Leia said slowly – that was true, and Vada already knew that; Han's shock upon meeting her was the stuff of legends. "He and your mother didn't keep in touch."

Vada sipped her juice. She clasped it in two hands. She leaned forward.

"Because I asked him," she said, as if confiding in Leia, "why he did not know me before, why my mother did not tell him, and he said it was because he was a bad guy in those days," she quoted – those days, she stressed, arching her brows.

Leia frowned, pursing her lips.

"Was he?" Vada prompted.

She didn't think that was the case. It had sounded silly when her father said it, and she didn't want to believe him.

Leia looked at her intently. She hadn't known Han all his life – she hadn't even known him half his life, or half of her own life, for that matter – but she didn't think, for a second, that she personally had made him into the man he was for her now. That man – had to have been there all along. Leia knew people, and she knew that at the core, people did not completely change their personalities.

She shook her head slowly.

"No," she said mildly, and fully prepared to back that statement up if she ever had to. "I would never refer to Han as a bad guy."

"Never?" Vada asked seriously.

"Never," Leia agreed, wrinkling her nose affectionately.

"I did not believe him," Vada said, relieved Leia had said that. "'Cause – you are too nice, to date a bad guy, I think," she said, and then cocked her head, "and he wears bloodstripes, those are serious, on Corellia, very serious," she mused.

Leia nodded.

"Why would he say he is bad?" Vada asked.

Leia sighed thoughtfully. She tried to think of a way to explain it that wasn't too complex, but still got the point across. It didn't matter how smart Vada was, seven was too little to understand some intricacies, and seven was too young to be made to deal with them, anyway.

"Did you ever do anything when you were little that broke a rule, but you'd never consider doing it now that you're older?" she asked.

Vada shrugged. She nodded. She used to take fruit off kiosks on the way to school, because other kids did it as a joke, and no one ever caught her, and they had so many. She'd never steal now. Unless she was starving.

"Well, your dad's most likely kind of thinking like that," Leia explained slowly. "He just has more adult things he was dealing with. He's a good man, Vada."

"I heard the Holo call him a common criminal," Vada sighed.

"They say things like that to take digs at me," Leia said frankly. "My status."

Vada made a face, and Leia returned it, nodding wryly.

"It makes no sense to me either."

Vada grinned, and hunkered down to cradle her juice near her nose. She rested her chin on Leia's desk, and fell silent, back to diligently surveying Leia's desk.

"I know he didn't know about me," she piped up after a moment. "I was just asking you, um, because you are a woman, and my mother was a woman," she said, shrugging, "so I thought maybe, you would know why she was thinking to not let us meet, or tell him."

Leia smiled gently, lifting her shoulders.

"I don't know what was in your mother's mind," she said honestly, "but I know it's tough when you wish you knew what your parents were thinking."

Vada tilted her head thoughtfully. Leia smiled wryly. She'd spent quite a lot of time since the Battle of Endor wondering what the hell her father had in mind for her, why he'd never told her the things she had to find out on her own, alone, feeling like her whole entire life was a lie.

"What happened to your parents?" Vada asked. "Your mommy?" She remembered Leia saying her mother had died, too.

Leia blinked at her. She leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the desk delicately. Her brow furrowed, and she remained silent for a moment.

"They were on Alderaan," she began delicately, unable to believe Vada might not know about the destruction of an entire planet, even if she had been impoverished and in an orphanage - but even as she spoke, Vada's face blanched, and she stiffened, covering her mouth with one hand.

"I am sorry," she burst out. "I think I knew – right, because they were the king and queen – I am so sorry!"

Leia clicked her tongue, reaching over and touching Vada's hand lightly.

"You didn't mean any harm," she soothed. She nodded sadly. "Yes, they were on the planet when it happened."

Vada's lips trembled, and she bowed her head, wincing. Stupid - how could she bring up something like that?! She was so mad at herself. She looked up, thinking about how everyone knew that it was the Empire and Darth Vader who had created that horrible space station.

"Are you sure you do not want to call me 'Viddy'?" she asked in a whisper. "It sounds less like him."

To her surprise, Leia laughed dryly.

"I was brought up in the etiquettes of diplomacy, it's easier for me to hear the similarity than to go against the social custom for my own comfort," she snorted. "The diminutive is like calling you 'sweetheart' or something, yes?" she asked, remembering what Han had said.

Vada nodded.

"It is for family and very close friends," she said quietly.

"Well," Leia said thoughtfully. "Then why don't I earn that privilege, first? I think you would rather me call you that because we're close, right? Than the other reason?"

Vada smiled slightly, and nodded again, taking that idea to heart. She thought it was genuine, and respectful. Kind, without forcing anything. Of course, it made her want to tell Leia that she had earned it already, but she didn't want to be too aggressive with Leia or Han. Things were still kind of awkward and stiff, but it had been more than a week now since she met them, and she liked the idea – so much – of staying here with them.

She tucked her nose into her cup and took a sip, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"Leia?" she said again.

Leia turned her chair towards her this time, listening.

"It is okay if you make me go to school," Vada said.

Leia arched a brow, amused.

"Oh, you will go to school," she said, feigning a little sternness. "It's a provision of social services, of course, but school is important – "

"I miss school," Vada said, and then winced. "I am sorry for the interrupting," she added.

Leia waved her hand gently, dismissing it.

"You like school?" she asked.

"I like knowing things," Vada said. "At school, they make you know things," she explained. "I am only saying that…I am…adjusting okay, I think, and I can go to school," she said, frowning as she tried to get her thoughts out, "and not be mad that maybe you are, abandoning me," she explained.

Leia leaned closer impulsively, and brushed her hand over Vada's hair – it was separated into two sections, and twisted into loose, intricately braided strands that were tied in a ribbon and spiraling over her shoulders. Leia had fixed it for her this morning.

"I think that's very mature," she complimented. She caught Vada's eye. "No one is going to abandon you," she told her firmly.

Vada inclined her head.

"I am going to be good," she said. "No problem," she promised.

Leia drew back a little, looking at her intently. She compressed her lips – this was not the first time Vada had implied her being 'kept' was conditional on good behavior, and Leia wanted to correct that some how – or talk to Han about talking to her about that. She didn't know exactly how to convey it without sounding weird, or like it was giving Vada carte blanche to act like a delinquent.

How did one say 'you can misbehave, and your punishment won't be abandonment?' without it also sounding like 'you're here no matter what, so do what you want?'

Parenting advice – Leia needed it, from her mother and father. They probably had lived with some fear of Leia getting angry at them and threatening to go find her 'real' parents. Most adopted children threw that fit eventually – though Leia actually never had.

She didn't get a chance to speak, though. There was a tap at the door, and then Leia's assistant poked her head in.

"Master Skywalker is here," she said.

Leia felt the nudge through their mental connection at about the same time, and nodded, standing. The assistant stepped back and allowed Luke to walk in, and Leia gently took Vada's shoulder, giving her an encouraging smile, and leading her around the desk.

Luke shut the office door behind him, and Vada's heart raced. Luke Skywalker – the Jedi, Luke Skywalker, who personally defeated the evil emperor, stood right there, plain as day. His hair was much lighter than it was in wanted holos – in fact, overall, he looked lighter; bright and friendly, like the sun, even though he was wearing an all black tunic.

He stepped forward and kissed his sister's cheek, and then stepped back and looked at Vada kindly, lifting one hand.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Luke."

He stretched his hand out, and Vada stared at it for a moment, star struck, and then jutted her own hand out, shaking herself, and forcing herself to act cool. She cleared her throat, and glanced up at him, trying to come up with something to say.

What came out was –

"You are less tall than on the holos."

She didn't mean it rudely. It was just an observation. He was taller than Leia, but much, much shorter than her father.

Luke, in the middle of shaking her hand, tilted his head, and then snapped a look at Leia accusingly.

"You told her to say that!" he whined.

Leia, her eyes glittering with laughter, shook her head.

"I did – I did not," she said, stifling laughter. She looked down at Vada, explaining: "That's sort of the first thing I said when I met Luke. That he's short."

She winked.

"He's sensitive."

"I – !" Luke began, before narrowing his eyes, and sighing. He shook his head.

"Don't take it too hard," Leia advised solemnly. "Han told Vada she was short the first day they met. It appears to be a genetic Corellian greeting."

Luke smirked. He let his arms hang at his side for a moment, and then folded them lightly, peering down at her. It was surreal, that much was true. For days, he'd been thinking about this abstract concept: that Han Solo had a daughter. And now – here she was, in the flesh, and Leia was right, it felt impossible.

She – Vada Solo – or no, Leia said her last name wasn't Solo – stared back at Luke rather bravely, rather…critically.

Luke shifted nervously. He tilted his head.

"So, you're Han's daughter," he said, looking into those big brown eyes – she certainly looked like Han, save for the darker skin and – well, all the curly hair. The eyes though – they were very much Han's.

Luke could see what Leia meant when she'd mentioned she knew immediately there was no way this was a lie.

In return, Vada blinked at him calmly, and dipped her head.

"That is what I was told," she responded.

Luke smiled wryly. A very Han-like answer.

Vada swallowed hard, staring at him. Her eyes darted intuitively to his belt, and she squinted, trying to see if she could see the infamous lightsabers that the knights were supposed to carry – Darth Vader always had a red one, and brought it out rarely to show his power.

In person, Luke Skywalker was less intimidating than the wanted holos had made him seem.

"Do you have a lightsaber?" Vada asked.

Luke nodded. He pulled back his cloak to solemnly show her his lightsaber, noticing that she'd been looking. Vada leaned back, and eyed it warily. She raised her eyes to Luke's, cocking her head thoughtfully.

"I read a book about Jedi once," she said.

Luke smiled.

"Oh?" He asked with interest. He was surprised books about Jedi even existed, considering the extensive efforts that had gone into eradicating their legacy. He himself was busy trying to find all he could, and re-enshrine the Jedi Order in history in its rightful place. "What did it say?"

Vada blinked at him a little critically.

"That the Force is fake," she answered blithely.

Frowning lightly, Luke gave her a dry look, and glanced at Leia with a raised brow.

Yes. She was very Han-like, indeed, in that respect.

"I guess doubt of the Force is a Solo genetic trait," Luke said dryly.

He sighed pleasantly, and knelt on one knee dramatically. Lifting one hand with a wry smile – usually, he wouldn't show off like this, but there was really no harm – he thought quiet, gentle thoughts at some of the flowering plants around Leia's office. The bulb of one floated gently to him, and he held it, hovering, in his palm, until it flowered.

"May I?" he asked, catching a small stem, and holding it out to Vada gallantly.

Interested, she nodded. Releasing it from his hand, Luke coaxed the flower to gently nestle itself in Vada's hair, right behind her ear. She grinned, her eyes cutting that way to follow it, her face lighting up.

She leaned forward with a whisper.

"Is that how you defeated the Emperor?" she asked.

Luke bowed his head with a solemn nod.

"Something like that," he said. "You know, in the end, sometimes what you need to defeat evil is nothing more than very persistent belief in good."

Vada tilted her head, her temple brushing against Leia's arm. She nodded, but raised a brow.

"But you should take a blaster, too. In case."

Luke rose up slowly, shaking his head with a grin.

"Why'd Han asked for a genetic test?" he snorted pointedly. "She's clearly his."

Hearing that, Vada burst into a grin. She leaned into Leia's side, the chaos of the morning confrontation with the reporters fading into nothing in her mind now, and marveled at the idea that this larger-than-life figure she'd just met really thought she was so much like her father – that was good, right? That had to be good.

Outside of the Academy, an 'evaluative interview' had to be the most formal, organized thing Han Solo had ever participated in his entire life. The Academy had required no interview; the testing system was skill-based, and Han had enough street smarts, cobbled together intelligence, and piloting know-how to get through it. He'd – obviously – been stubborn enough regarding the rigid requirements at the Academy that he hadn't lasted long, so when he found himself getting dressed this morning for this interview, he'd had no idea what to wear.

He didn't own a damn suit. Every time he'd been to a public event such as a gala or one of Leia's 'things' he was always ending up at, he just wore…what he usually wore, and Leia wasn't bothered by it. But she said it was best if he did look like he'd made an effort for this.

So, he'd chosen his military uniform. If nothing else, at least it would remind these – or this – evaluator of what he'd done recently, and maybe have them thinking less about who he'd been in the past.

A receptionist at the social services division of the Corellian Embassy had showed him into a homey looking office, and he was staring at the trinkets that decorated the desk when a dark-skinned woman walked in and marched around the desk cheerily.

She stood on her side of the desk, and leaned forward, extending her hand while meeting Han's eyes, unabashed.

"Good Morning," she said. "I'm Iretta."

She did not offer her last name, and Han stared at her hand a moment, taken aback by the breeziness of her demeanor – it was certainly nothing like the other two social workers – and her confidence. He blinked, and then stood a little, extending his hand hastily.

"Han – " he started.

"Solo," she finished pleasantly. "Oh yes, I know," she snorted, winking. She took a seat, and then leaned back in her chair.

Han noticed she didn't have a datapad or a note-taking device with her, and her terminal appeared to be powered down. Her hair was twisted into painstaking tiny braids that threaded close to her scalp, and flowed into a long, curling tail that fell over one shoulder – and her eyes were as dark as her skin.

He slowly sat back down, and wondered if he should be suspicious that she seemed to so cheery.

"Would you prefer to speak Corellian or Basic?" Iretta asked pleasantly. She smirked. "I daresay your Corellian is rusty," she challenged.

"It is not," Han retorted automatically, fluidly switching to his own language. "Been tryin' to speak it with Vada, but she wants to practice Basic," he added.

Iretta nodded.

"She actually has an excellent grasp of Basic, or so I gather from her file."

"You haven't met her?" Han asked edgily – and then backed down a little, nodding. "Wait, uh – "

"I haven't met any of you, officially. I was entirely unfamiliar with the case until randomly selected to evaluate on it – though of course, it was difficult to completely sanitize, as you and Princess Leia are public figures."

Han nodded – he remembered being told that, now. They had a third party social worker interview for the assesment, to avoid skewing opinions as much as possible.

"So, I come in as a blank slate, talk with all of you, eventually make my recommendations – and that's that," she said.

"You make it sound easy," Han said dryly.

"Well, I'd say I know the situation isn't easy, but really – I've never specifically been in your situation, so that would be patronizing," Iretta told him frankly, "but you're right, situations regarding children and orphanages and new families aren't 'easy;' however, I try to make it as painless as possible."

"That'd be great," Han said, in the same dull, dry voice.

Iretta beamed. She crossed one leg over the other casually and leaned back comfortably in her chair.

"Want anything to drink? Kaf, Ale, Wine…? That's not a test, mind you," she said.

Han snorted. He just shook his head.

"Right," Iretta began. "I'd ask how Vada is doing this morning, but the Holos gave me a glimpse of her and – "

Han swallowed hard.

"Yeah, uh, Leia just…she took her to work 'cause Vada kind of wanted to stay with her and, uh, we knew there'd be attention but not that much – " he broke in, his jaw stiff.

He shifted uncomfortably, wary of being ripped a new one for letting Vada be in a situation where she was all but mobbed by the press. He'd watched the footage of Leia's arrival at work this morning when he was outside in the Embassy lobby. It was, naturally, given her profile, broadcasted on the many news Media projections.

The thing was – and he was realizing it sharply now – watching the whole thing go down, he'd been more focused on Leia's reaction than Vada's. He wasn't sure if she'd cried, or looked scared. Han had never seen anything like it – he figured in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't entirely spectacular, but it was spectacular to him –

The media flurry around Leia had been rabid, and as he'd stared at the scene dubiously, he'd felt a sinking dread as he realized she was in this position because of him, and Vada was going to be in the midst of this, and they would be shouting all kinds of things at both of them, invasive things -

And he'd watched as Leia angrily, without batting an eye, picked Vada up – Leia, in all her tiny, thin glory, picked up a seven-year-old child as if it was nothing and tucked her head into her shoulder.

She turned a furious glare in the crowd around her, and Han watched her mouth move on screen - he couldn't hear the audio, the Holos in the office were all muted, but he was sure it was intimidating.

"There's no need to justify," Iretta said, raising her hand calmly. "I didn't say that to probe for information or to judge. I know you're adjusting to this change, and in any circumstance, that means you haven't quite figured out childcare or school, all those things," she waved her hand and then let it fall. "Besides, I refuse to blame the behavior of those 'razzi monsters on you or the Princess – what are you to do, lock yourselves away forever?"

Iretta snorted, and then folded her arms lightly across her chest.

"I know this is billed as an interview, and all the sessions are, but I'd rather it just be a conversation. There's probably less discomfort if we just start – it will be mostly informational. Remember, I'm not your psych eval."

"Yeah, really lookin' forward to that," Han muttered sarcastically.

Iretta smiled ruefully.

"No one does. There's something about an emotional brain examination that seems to make people wary," she noted, arching a brow. "Let's just start by my asking - how do you think Vada is doing?"

She paused a beat and then tilted her head back, watching Han.

"There's no right or wrong answer. I just want to know your opinion."

Han leaned back stiffly. He ran his hands over the armrests of his chair, and stared back at her. He knew it wasn't a trick question, and yet somehow, he still felt like it was a trick question. The thing was, his interactions with Vada seemed okay, even if they weren't that deep, and she seemed upbeat. Vivacious – she definitely wasn't a brat or causing any issues.

She read a lot, and followed their guidance, and sat quietly, observing, but she wasn't afraid to talk to them.

"She's, um," Han started. "Y'know, she seems relieved she's not in a damn home anymore," he said dryly. "And I think it helps that we're…I mean," he snorted at himself, grimacing at the words he was about to say, "that we are who we…are."

Iretta didn't seem to think that was absurd or cocky, though. She just tilted her head thoughtfully.

"You probably seem like celebrities to her," she said mildly. "Perhaps she even feels like she knows you."

"She knew about me," Han said. "I was the one in the dark."

"That's what I read in the file," Iretta noted. She lifted her shoulders. "I regret that there will be no explanation for that, but it might be best not to dwell."

Han shrugged. He sort of agreed. He'd have liked to known why Visenya didn't tell him, even if it was just as simple as she had 'forgotten.' Left without an answer, he was…also kind of left to assume the worst of himself, the worst of Visenya's thought process, and forced, again and again, to ask himself – but what would I have done if I'd known?

"She," he said, and then corrected himself: "Vada likes it when Leia braids her hair."

Iretta nodded.

"That's nice, I'm glad she and the Princess have something they can bond over."

Han hesitated.

"You, uh, gonna be doin' Leia and Vada's interviews, too?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, don't call her 'Princess' or 'Your Highness,' then. She doesn't like it in informal settings anymore. 'Ambassador' is okay but just, y'know, one on one, somethin' like this – Leia's fine," he explained gruffly. "You'd probably make her feel way more at ease if you just start with 'Leia.'"

"Noted. Thanks for telling me; I don't want to make her uncomfortable off the bat. Does Vada have her own place to sleep in your apartment?"

Han nodded.

"Yeah, Leia had a spare bedroom, so she's in that. S'bigger than she's used to but I think she's gettin' used to it. We got 'er some blankets and other stuff to make it more like her own," he explained. "She likes to draw. So I got her an art kit."

"Ahh, some of the shopping that put her on the radar," Iretta noted, grinning. "I'm sure she enjoyed that."

Iretta cleared her throat and sat forward.

"Are there any concerns you have about her right now?" she asked.

"What d'ya mean?" Han asked warily.

Iretta shrugged.

"Anything," she said. "Anything you've noticed."

He felt stumped, and narrowed his eyes. He didn't have a damn clue, because he didn't know how kids her age were supposed to act. He didn't know the norm. It wasn't like he had some glowing template from his childhood, or had grown up around of functional families with functional, well-behaved so-called normal kids.

He'd say Leia would have a better idea, but maybe not. Her upbringing had been an anomaly, too. And in a galaxy as large and diverse as this one, what the hell was the norm, anyway?

He blinked slowly.

"Not really," he said bluntly. "I mean, I guess she just seems really freaked out that I'm gonna hand her back to social services." He paused, and then said abruptly: "She says 'if you keep me' a lot. So, m'guessin' when the Vardaloses refused to take her, it kriffed with her a little."

The harsh language surprised him, he hadn't meant to swear so profusely, but it was in the exact moment he said it that he realized it pissed him off, kind of a lot. He was shocked. He was having a hard time dealing with this, but he hadn't slammed a door in Vada's face.

And she'd have been even younger, back when her mom died and they first took her –

"You're familiar with Visenya's family?" Iretta asked.

Han's jaw twitched.

"I never met 'em," he said, "but I know she hated most of 'em," he grunted, "and they were rich – plenty rich enough to pay a fine not to take a kid 'cause she's a bastard," he said flatly.

Iretta compressed her lips, and nodded.

"Yes," she said simply. It was what had happened, after all. Vaella Vardalos, Visenya's mother and matriarch of her clan, had little interest in her daughter's baseborn, mixed-skin child, and had been clear about it from the moment social services came to her.

Leaning back again, Iretta held out her hand.

"Well, let me address that," she said frankly. "Are you thinking about giving Vada back?"

Han blinked.

"No," he said immediately. He bristled a little. "I keep tellin' her that. I know the law."

"Yes," Iretta said again. "We know the law – "

"I can't do sithspit about it if I ain't found fit," he said pointedly, his lips curling in a grimace, "but I'm not gonna pay a fine and just hand her back, y'know, she's mine," he asserted. "Might be a shock, but it's, well – guess I shoulda watched myself a little better, huh?" he said, with a touch of bitterness. "She's here 'cause of me, half of me, at least. Ain't her fault."

He grit his teeth, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He stared across the desk at Iretta, a little taken aback by his own feelings. Before he could stop himself, he said:

"I may not know what the kriff I am doin'," he growled, "but I was in a 'home,'" he said the word skeptically, "like that for a while. And I ran off, 'cause it wasn't great and what do you know, the streets weren't great, either," he said dully.

He swallowed hard.

"I – we, uh, me'n'Leia, we're gonna figure this out," he said firmly. "The rest is up to your," he waved his hands at her, "decisions. Ain't it?"

Iretta looked at him thoughtfully for a long time. At least – it felt like a long time. He wasn't really aware of the time passing, because he was too busy replaying his own comments in his head – did he really feel this way?

If he did, why did he have such a hard time interacting with Vada? He knew it wasn't the same situation as the way he'd acted around Leia when he was trying to form a relationship with her, but where was the confidence he'd had then? Why was he so much more afraid of interacting with a child than he had been of the leader of an intergalactic insurgency?

"Han, this is just an opinion based on my experience," Iretta started finally, taking a deep breath, "but generally people who feel that way are not people Corellia finds unfit."

She smirked.

"You know how we are," she sighed. "Corellians. We generally follow a policy of 'the ends justify the means' – even if a man has a questionable path to honor, it's the honor that matters."

Han snorted quietly. He rubbed his jaw and then slid a hand through his hair, sitting back.

"Hey, is the rest of this gonna take long?" he asked abruptly. "I dunno if I want Vada to spend all day at Leia's office."

It wasn't just that Leia had important work to do aside from babysitting, and he was already leery of her having taken Vada this morning – even though she swore up and down she didn't mind it. He also had the sudden thought that he needed to be spending more time with Vada. He needed to try to make it…less mechanical. Which was what Leia seemed to be a pro at, while he…floundered.

He cleared his throat without saying anything else.

"No, I think this has been productive, as a first meeting," Iretta said.

Han squinted at her.

"Sure as hell like you better than the other two," he muttered pointedly.

She smiled, shrugging.

"Well, some of us fall into this profession, and some of us chose it," she said, with the clear implication that she was the latter, and that made all the difference.

Han abruptly realized he didn't remember having social workers assigned to him. No one had ever come to talk to him in the home, see how he was doing, or generally check on him. Thus, he suddenly doubted anyone had actually monitored Vada's life until it became feasible to bring her to him. The thought made him angrier, and he ran a hand over his thigh tensely, though he did not say anything.

Iretta leaned forward and tapped a button on the control panel for her terminal. It lit up lazily, blinking as it came to life. She nodded at it, watching.

"This first session won't take all morning, since it's laying a baseline. I'm going to ask some more questions about you – your income, your job, all that, which sounds silly considering your high profile, but I need things confirmed from your mouth. Besides, as I'm sure you know, media talk is not always accurate," she snorted. "I'll also ask some questions about your plans for Vada – again, keep in mind that while this is a judgment to an extent, as it's an evaluation, I'm well aware that things are not black and white. It's only been a week or so."

Han gave her a curt nod. He thought he understood what she was saying – and he figured he could learn something about what the hell he was supposed to be doing from some of her questions.

When he picked Vada up from Leia's office, Han expected to be hounded by journalists on his way in and on his way out. His expectations were correct to a certain extent – there were journalists. However, they did not swarm. As he and Vada had walked to the speeders, he noticed she eyed them warily, but didn't seem as small as she had on film this morning.

He had hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder to let her know he'd do the same as Leia – chase them away – and she hadn't shaken it off. But she had said, as he waited for her to buckle in in the back of the speeder –

"Do not be worrying about them. They got told off."

Han had smirked. It was very emphatic – still, despite her haughty boldness as they walked around in the view of the reporters, Vada seemed immensely relieved to be back at home – or, the apartment; he didn't know if she thought of it as 'home' or not – and out of sight.

"Did Leia tell them off?" Han asked, as he let them back into her – their – apartment.

Vada nodded fervently, her backpack hanging off one shoulder as she went into the living room and headed for the table that sat in the middle of it. She placed her bag down, and then slid down on the floor – she liked sitting with her back against the armchair. Her head came up just to the edge of the table.

"She scared them even though she is smaller," Vada said, holding her hands to show the height differences. "I want to do that to people," she said wickedly. "Scare them, but even if I am small."

Han laughed.

"You'll get bigger," he said.

Vada elevated one hand very high, and then frowned thoughtfully.

"How do you kiss her?" she asked, nose scrunched up.

Han raised his brows. He reached up to scratch the back of his head.

"What? Who?" he asked warily.

Vada blinked at him, lowering her hands. She glared at him uncertainly.

"Who else do you kiss?" she asked, accusing.

Han almost took a step back; he was so offended at the idea.

"No one!" he protested, hooking his hands into his pockets. "I – she, uh – I never thought about it."

"How?" Vada asked skeptically. She held her hands back up, moving them up and down. "You have to think, umm, to make the kiss work, I think," she mused.

Han looked at her incredulously, unsure how the conversation had gone this way.

"She stands on her tip toes," he blurted.

He immediately grimaced at himself. Vada's hands dropped to her lap. She seemed perfectly satisfied with that answer.

"Or you lay down, probably," she said matter-of-factly. "That is why you sleep with the same bed, without the married part."

She blinked at Han, and noticed he looked uncertain. She lifted her chin earnestly.

"Oh no, do not feel bad," she said hastily. "My mom did that too, she did," she assured him – he looked so uncomfortable!

Han felt his neck getting hot – which meant it was getting red - and Vada looked down, swallowing hard. She said something softly to herself.

"Sorry," she said. "I did not mean for your face to get red."

Han suddenly wanted to laugh. It was a peculiar way to phrase it – and dammit, hadn't he walked out of Iretta's office earlier resolved to try to be more comfortable with Vada? He was already failing at that. She was just a kid; she didn't have any malice in her.

He shrugged, and hoped he looked relaxed when he did it. He came and took a seat on the couch, leaning forward casually.

"So you met Luke?" he asked.

When he'd picked Vada up, she'd just gotten back from lunch with Luke and Leia. Luke was a hard one to read sometimes – Han couldn't tell if he was thrilled with Vada, or terrified of her.

Vada nodded. She pulled her backpack into her lap and hugged it. She didn't say anything else, so Han kept talking.

"What d'ya think of him?" he asked.

Vada tilted her head. She pointed to her ear.

"He put this flower here. He did magic with it," she said, and then arched her brows. "No. The Force. He said it was not magic," she added, correcting herself.

Han snorted.

"Lemme guess," he drawled. "You got a lecture about that hokey religion? Sounds like Luke."

Vada smiled.

"But, um, he said, he said, I sounded like you," she said, piping up a little proudly. "He kept saying that. Because I asked good questions about the magic."

Han laughed, and she smiled wider, happy to have caused the laughter. Thinking about it for a moment, Han nodded firmly.

"Luke's a good kid," he said. "Turns out, he knows what he's talkin' about, with the Force."

"It is not just fake magic?" Vada asked slyly.

"Nah, it's real," Han said.

"He said, he said," Vada began, widening her eyes, "that Miss Leia, she can do it, too. Use the Force."

Han hesitated.

"Yeah, uh, she can," he said after a pause. "She doesn't," he didn't want to say that she didn't know how, though he wasn't sure she did. He thought that might make her sound incompetent – could a person be incompetent in the Force? But he didn't want Vada bugging Leia about it either. She was extremely sensitive to the idea of that power.

"She doesn't use it," he finished lamely.

Vada pursed her lips.

"How are they brother and sister if she is from Alderaan, and he is not?" she asked.

That one really gave Han pause. Leia hadn't even answered that question publicly yet. As much of a wild card as it was, it was plausible for people to believe an adopted baby had a long-lost sibling. Neither Luke nor Leia had expressed an interest in or a plan for saying anything else related to their history.

He cleared his throat.

"Uh, they're twins," he answered gruffly. "Leia's family on Alderaan adopted her. She and Luke were separated, long time ago."

Vada looked down at her backpack thoughtfully.

"I did not know her family adopted her," she said, almost as if speaking to the backpack. "Maybe then…she likes adopted kids," she added, glancing at Han.

Han smiled at her gently. He didn't quite know what to say to that, and he didn't want to speak for Leia – but he also didn't want to say anything that would hurt Vada's feelings or kill her spirit. So after equivocating for a moment, he simply asked:

"What'd you do while Leia worked?" Even as he said it, something else clicked. "Oh, yeah – hey, she wants you to call her 'Leia,' 'member?" he asked.

Vada flushed, unzipping her backpack.

"I remember," she said earnestly. "I forget, because it is a habit, to be polite," she explained. "I want to be nice."

"I get it," Han said. "If you really want to be polite, you should call her 'Your Worship,'" he joked, smirking.

Vada paused, looking at him critically. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"No, that sounds like it is rude," she said flatly. She began digging in her bag. "Who has called her that?"

Han hastily stopped smirking.

"No one," he said seriously.

Vada clicked her tongue.

"People, they are mean," she said, her lip jutting out. "They say mean things to her, to you, about her, about you," she listed, sucking in her breath. "On the way to lunch, the razzi, I heard them say to her that she is a – "

Vada spit out a four-letter word that nearly made Han swallow his tongue. He sat up straight, lunging forward, irritated, and studied her.

"Someone said that to her?" he demanded. "A man?"

Vada paused, nervous suddenly. She swallowed hard.

"Um," she said quietly. "Actually, she, um, she said to me not to tell you about that word," she whispered, wincing. "She said it would make you go to jail."

Han swallowed bitterly, and sat back slowly, forcing a sour laugh down. Leia had probably said that to be tongue-in-cheek, but she was half-right. He knew Leia was immune to – or at least able to block out – much of the melee. But he also knew some words, words that had been thrown at her in captivity, triggered her.

"I am not going to go to jail," Han said, through grit teeth.

Vada frowned like that was unconvincing, but finally pulled a notebook out of her bag and set the whole pack aside.

"I had my art kit," she said, looking up. "That you bought me. So, I drew this," Vada said, placing a printed reading of a holo drawing in front of Han. "While there was working going on."

She watched him looking at it, and then boosted herself up, biting her lip. She scrambled up onto the couch next to him, got on her knees, leaned forward, and pointed, narrating for him.

"That is me," she said. "That is Mr. Chewbacca," she said. She gestured to the old-fashioned swing set she had drawn. "I think Mr. Chewbacca would be good at swings," she said matter-of-factly, "because he could push you, so maybe, the trick could happen where," she made a motion with her hands, "you fly all in a whole circle, but do not fly off!"

Staring at it in a little bit of wonder, Han touched the edge of the paper and picked it up, smiling crookedly. He kept staring at it, unsure how to react – he found himself unsure how to react most of the time these days, but most often, it was discomfort. Right now, he felt amused, and…impressed.

She was a good little artist, for a seven-year-old.

"When did you make this?" he asked gruffly.

"I was sitting in Miss – in Leia's office," she corrected quickly. "After a man with a camera tried to look at me," she explained, and then said, with raised eyebrows and a hushed voice, "again."

"Ah," Han said, grimacing. Leia was usually an 'ignore them' type when it came to the press. Han guessed she was going after them aggressively because of Vada's age and lack of agency in the situation.

He turned his head to ask her something, something about the swing set, or a playground, but he forgot what it was when he noticed something in the crook of her arm. The nicer, dressier frock she'd worn this morning to be with Leia bared her arms more, and there was a mark just in the crook of her elbow.

He nodded at it and frowned a little, reaching over for Vada's arm.

"What's this?" he asked, poking what appeared to be a bruise, or perhaps scar tissue. "Did you fall?" he felt a little panicked suddenly. "Did one of the camera guys grab you?" he added, anger burgeoning in his chest.

He drew his hand back, wincing – he probably shouldn't have poked it like that if he thought it was a bruise. It had to be sore.

Taken aback, Vada looked down at the mark absently and shrugged, shaking her hand a little.

"No, noooo," she said hastily. "No, it is a, it was a burn, from a, from a," she snapped her fingers, reaching for the Basic word. "Cee-gar."

"Cigar?" Han asked, and then said it in Corellian, too, just to be sure.

"Yes."

"Who the fu – who – what happened?" Han asked, catching himself about to curse, trying to correct it, and fumbling – another thing Leia had mentioned to him, in a hushed voice, with an annoyed look on her face, as she handed Vada off – stop using that kind of language around your child, Han.

And the way she'd said 'your child' – it seemed almost holo-perfect, like it was written in a movie about two average, married people who had an average child together, and made clichéd, common jabs and nags at each other.

Vada considered the mark without much fanfare.

"Oh, a big kid," she said quietly, "a big kid at the home. He smashed it on me," she said matter-of-factly. "The cigar. 'Cause I was spoiled. Not tough," she explained.

Han stared at her wordlessly. He wanted to be shocked – but he remembered. He remembered having to be tough in the homes, because he'd been one of the tough ones. Not so tough and insecure he'd beat up on little girls, but he'd found his first sharp tool to stick in his sock for protection when he was five years old, after some big, hulking monster of a bully stole a scarf from him – the last thing he'd had that belonged to his mother.

He let go of her arm with a prickling sense of shame, and guilt – and what had he been doing, when Vada was being teased and bullied in an orphanage, right after her mother had died? Right around the same age he'd been when someone stole his mother's scarf from him, and he spent two nights trying not to cry because he knew someone would probably hit him if they heard him being a baby?

Having some petty fight with Leia over which one of them was meaner to the other?

He reached up and rubbed the back of his head, pulling at his hair, and then took a deep breath, and reached over, and put an arm around her. The movement was hesitant, and a little awkward. Sheepishly, he knew that part of his problem was that his utter lack of experience with young kids meant he had no idea of what was considered appropriate in terms of affection, and he also didn't want to scare her.

He tugged her into his side a little, and, after a moment of staring down at her neatly braided hair and contemplating the action, he then kissed the top of her head gingerly, like he was sure fathers were supposed to do when their daughters had been hurt.

"I'm sorry, Vada," he said – but she was probably too young to understand he wasn't just apologizing for cigar burns from a big mean kid.

She seemed delighted with the hug, and put her arm around his middle in return for a moment. Just as quickly, though, she was wriggling away, and reaching into the little leather bag Leia had given her for another drawing.

"Well, you did not do it," she said, childlike, matter-of-fact, and then showed him another picture. "I drew M – um, Leia, too, how she looked when she yelled at the man with the camera."

Han looked down at the picture for a moment, and then laughed out loud, amused – Vada had drawn Leia breathing fire.

"Is it nice?" Vada asked earnestly. She frowned suddenly. "Or will she be mad? Is it not pretty?"

Han turned to look at her, still amused at the photo.

"She'd like it," he assured her. "I bet Leia wishes she breathed fire, sometimes," he added.

"Lots of people do," Vada said. "That would be a cool power. Probably cooler than Mr. Luke's flower witchcraft," she giggled, taking the flower out of her hand and holding it in her palm.

Han grinned, unable to stop himself – Vada demeaning Luke's belief in the Force was kind of cute, and he knew it would drive the kid crazy, so it was funny as hell, too.

"Hey, go easy on the kid," Han said anyway. "He did use some'f that witchcraft to save the galaxy from oppression," he added.

Vada leaned back, tilting her head up at Han curiously.

"How come you call him 'kid,'?" she asked. "He is an adult man."

"He only thinks he is," Han retorted. Then he arched an eyebrow. "Uh, well, he's younger than me," he explained. "And, y'know, he's like a brother to me."

"But he is Leia's real brother."

"Yeah."

"But not yours in-law, that way, because of you not being married."

Han eyed her warily.

"Mmmhmm," he agreed under his breath.

Vada drew one leg up and tapped her knee.

"But," she started again. "Are you going to be married?"

Han blinked.

"To Leia?" he asked lamely.

Again, Vada gave him a mildly startled, suspicious look, and he mentally kicked himself – why did he keep doing that? Of course she was talking about Leia. If he wasn't careful, Vada was going to think he had some kind of harem –

He arched his eyebrows at her, burying the question in his heart, trying to find a way to divert her. She seemed genuinely curious, excitable even, and he couldn't – he didn't know what the hell to say. He'd bought a ring months ago and it had just been sitting in this things, waiting for the right moment. Half the time, he had it in a small pocket inside his blue jacket, just in case the perfect moment came up. But he hadn't asked yet. And he couldn't tell Vada that she made things…different.

With her it wasn't just 'will you marry me' anymore – it was 'will you marry me and oh, yeah, now you gotta adopt my kid, and be her stepmom.'

So…different.

"Y'know," he said, hoping his voice sounded light, "I already had one interview today."

Vada giggled, and bit her lip. She scrunched her nose.

"Got it," she hissed.

She tucked his answer away for later. Okay, so questions about marrying Miss Leia – Leia, she internally corrected herself – made him nervous. Like most things made him nervous. Han Solo was kind of weird, but Vada kind of liked that he was weird. It made her less scared of what was going to happen to her, with him.

"How old is Leia?" she asked suddenly.

Han cocked his head.

"Twenty-three," he answered slowly.

"How old are you?"

"Why am I gettin' the third degree?" Han asked, arching a brow.

Vada blinked at him.

"Because I have to live here," she retorted.

Han nodded.

"Huh. Fair. Okay," he paused.

"Did you forget?" Vada asked brightly. "Your age?"

Han narrowed his eyes.

"I didn't forget," he said gruffly. He didn't know why he was hesitating. Was it because Leia was so much younger than him? Somewhere in the back of his mind, did that make him feel like a predator?

He hadn't been after Leia when she was a teenager. He hadn't developed any interest in her until later – and, as much as it sounded like an empty, common justification, there had just never existed a power imbalance between them. Leia had wielded wealth and power in more ways than one, and she'd never been naive – at least not when Han met her. Her lack of physical experience had not manifested itself in wide-eyed stupidity or a lack of understanding of the nuances that existed between men and women.

"Thirty-three," he said.

"Oh, okay," Vada said. "You are like, close to Mommy's age, how old she was."

Han nodded.

"She was thirty," Vada explained.

Han nodded again. Vada didn't mention Visenya much, and he hesitated to bring her up without Vada taking the lead first, in case she didn't like to think about her mother. Vada nodded to herself, and looked down at her knee, tracing little circles on it.

"Did she," Han started. "Your mom. Did she talk to you about me?" he asked. "After she told you."

He wasn't sure if it was okay to ask and sure, Iretta had told him it might be better not to dwell, but the question just sort of fell out. He couldn't help it. Vada had known. She had the advantage over him. She –

"Um," Vada sighed thoughtfully. "Not really?" she answered, uncertain. "Only when she got sick, so then she told me. So I would not be confused when they took me to you."

"She wanted you to go to me," Han said, really a statement more than anything.

Vada kind of shrugged.

"She did not want me to go to her family," she said.

"Ah," Han muttered. "So, she didn't say things about me?"

Vada shrugged again.

"Not really," she repeated. "She said not to be scared of you," Vada remembered, scrunching up her face. "That you would pass the honor evaluations so, no problems."

Han lifted his brows, but didn't say anything. He didn't remember Visenya being particularly insightful, but it was a relief to know she'd assumed point-blank he'd easily be found fit.

After a moment, Han sat back. He looked at the drawing he was still holding in his hands.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked finally.

Vada twisted her hand around her knee and stared at it. She chewed on her lip, and then put her leg down, and slid down, hunching her shoulders. She peered at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Umm, no," she said slowly. "But," she started hesitantly.

Han waited, and she frowned.

"I am scared…that I am not in charge," she said finally.

He looked at her for a moment, and then laughed under his breath. Well, that sounded like something Leia would relate to. And it made sense – of all of them, Vada had the least control in this entire situation.

He nodded.

"That makes sense," he said.

"Are you scared of me?" Vada blurted, firing the question right back at him with wide eyes.

Han laughed again. He arched his eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah," he joked, smirking.

He sat forward, and then held up the picture she'd drawn.

"Wanna hang this up?" he asked, inspired.

Vada jolted forward. She nodded, biting her lip and beaming. Han got up, and took the other picture from the table, too, beckoning to her. He was pretty sure Leia had magnets or clips on the icebox, or at least in a drawer. He remembered her buying them. He remembered her telling him some long, absurd story about buying them. She'd been really fascinated with herself over it, talking about how though she'd hardly ever been aware of the kitchens in the palace, and she'd never furnished her own place, particularly a kitchen, somehow, she knew she needed to buy magnets for their apartment, and she was excited to buy them.

Han was pretty sure he'd fallen asleep while she was talking about it, because he didn't understand why she was losing her mind over decorating the kitchen.

Vada followed him into the kitchen as he looked, and he found them quickly, handing them to her.

She chose where she wanted the drawings to go, and Han stood back, his arms folded, watching. As she stretched onto her tiptoes to hang one of them higher than the other, he noticed a few more cigar burns in the back of her elbows. He clenched his teeth, swallowing hard, a wariness more sinister swirling in his gut.

He cleared this throat.

"Vada," he started.

He stopped just as quickly, though. He was in no way prepared to have – any sort of conversation…like that. He probably shouldn't, anyway.

She turned to look at him patiently, still pinning things on the icebox. He shrugged, pretending he hadn't said anything. Vada smiled. She nodded, and turned back to continue straightening things. Han sighed, and watched her, his eyes lingering miserably on the burn scars. As much as he hated to push things off on Leia – as much as he'd resolved to try, to try to stop doing that – he knew that he'd have to ask her to talk to Vada about anything else that might have happened in the home.

Leia had two different pictures on her mind. One was the picture Vada had drawn this morning – of Leia breathing fire, her hands on her hips. The other was a holo of Visenya Vardalos, which had been acquired from someone, somewhere, and was being shown in the media.

Her name was on the birth certificate, which was public. It evidently hadn't been hard to find a holo.

She'd have liked to focus more on the picture of herself breathing fire, which was the one she kept turning to look at as she cleaned up dishes after dinner.

But she was distracted instead by the image of Visenya Vardalos that was all over the holos. The image was one that had been obtained by a friend, or perhaps an old co-worker, of Visenya when she worked at a dancing club – she was tall, lithe, had dark skin, dark hair and, as Han had remembered – violet eyes. The image wasn't risqué, so to speak, but the clothing she was in veered more towards the gold bikini side of the spectrum compared to Leia's diplomatic formal attire. Visenya's hair was the same wild, curly mess as Vada's, though the colour and curl of Vada's had clearly been tempered by Han's genetics.

Naturally, it was the perfect photo for wild gossipmongers. Leia was having a hard time deciding if she was jealous. She didn't think she was. She did think the other woman – and it didn't seem right to think of her as that, anyway; she was long dead, and Leia did not have insecurities about Han's feelings for her – was exceedingly beautiful.

Vada had seen the picture and said it was from a casino her mother worked at.

"She was popular," Vada said blithely over dinner. "They liked her so much. I had nice things when she worked there," she'd explained.

Vada hadn't seemed to remember when or why Visenya stopped working there. She just mumbled something about her mother's jobs always having something to do with a boyfriend or a patron and shrugged, unconcerned. Leia noticed the comments put a pale look on Han's face.

She found herself idly wondering what his affair with Visenya had been like. Funnily enough, she hadn't ever had much curiosity about Han's romantic past. She felt she knew the things she'd needed to know - none of which, other than in terms of sexual health, related to which women he had or had not slept with, when, and for how long.

Visenya, she supposed, mattered, because she couldn't 'just not think about' Visenya. Visenya's little daughter was living with them. And Leia couldn't help but wonder if Visenya had danced for Han at some casino, or blown on his dice, or - something.

But she wasn't jealous.

At least she – didn't think she was?

There was something there, every time she saw that holo of Visenya Vardalos, but Leia wasn't threatened by this woman. She didn't think Han harbored any romantic feelings for her, she certainly wasn't able to burst into their lives and play a contender for Han's relationship – so what the hell could she be jealous of? Ridiculously long legs?

Leia turned from the sink and put away a cup. She leaned back and stared at the new printed art hanging on the fridge. Children's art. Han's daughter's art. Very well drawn, for Vada's age.

She smiled at the one of her breathing fire. It was lovely - perhaps Vada had a true future in this. Leia made a note to put feelers out for a school that focused on the arts, if that was what Vada was interested in. Her mother probably hadn't thought to give her something like that –

Leia stopped herself, gripping the sink behind her. Why was she thinking like that…? She'd felt almost – competitive for a moment; vindictive. She swallowed hard. She didn't have to prove herself to Vada, or somehow – be better than –

"You okay?"

Han's voice broke into her thoughts warily. He stood at the edge of the kitchen, one hand in his pocket. He looked as if catching her staring thoughtfully at the icebox was some kind of condemnation, and she just crossed her arms and nodded.

"I was thinking this is the best artistic representation of me I've ever seen," she remarked.

Han smiled. His pushed away from the wall and came forward, pointing at the sink.

"You finished? Or need help with the rest?" he asked.

Leia glanced behind her.

"Finished," she murmured. "Vada ate more than usual," she noted, feeling a little heartened by that. "I think she's getting used to us, and being here."

Han grunted. He leaned against the counter, resting on his elbows, and Leia glanced down at him.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He just nodded. After a moment, he said:

"Yeah, she's settling in."

Leia pursed her lips.

"Is she still watching the game?"

Vada, it turned out, liked Smashball, which was at least something she and Han both understood and could discuss.

Han shook his head.

"Nah, she went to jump in the 'fresher," he said. He looked up and then straightened, turning to lean against the counter the way Leia was. He tilted his head at her. "C'mere," he said.

She eyed him archly.

"Why?"

"Trust me," Han said, grinning.

She moved towards him, and he pulled her closer, situating her in front of him and hugging her tightly for a moment, before leaning back a little more and settling his hands against her shoulders. He started to knead, quiet for a moment, and then kissed her temple, and rested his cheek on her forehead.

"Thought your shoulders might hurt," he mumbled. "From pickin' her up," he said.

Leia relaxed into the touch, tilting her head back until it rested against Han's chest.

"She told me to do this," Han noted, snorting.

Leia smirked a little.

"She's considerate."

Han tilted his head.

"What made you pick her up?" He asked. "Ain't she heavy?"

"She weighs less than Chewbacca's bow caster, and I've fired that in a bind," Leia retorted. She pursed her lips, thinking. "I don't know," she said softly. "My parents use to pick me up when I was scared in large crowds. So, I picked her up."

Han nodded. Leia took a deep breath, and let it out.

"How did this morning go?" she murmured.

They hadn't spoken about it when he picked Vada up; the interaction was too quick. And of course, Vada was always around now – that was making some things…difficult, in a small way. The only place they could talk privately was bed, usually – or when Vada disappeared for her 'fresher.

"Fine, I guess," Han answered gruffly. "Dunno how it was supposed to go to get it right," he noted dryly. "The woman, Iretta? You'll like her."

Leia made a noncommittal, calm noise. Her first interview was soon, after the first home visit, and also after Vada's. Vada and Han took priority, since they were the ones the case was actually about.

"Is it bad?" Han asked grudgingly. "The Media? Work?"

Leia shrugged, leaning back into him.

"It doesn't matter," she dismissed. "It's under control," she added. "I made it clear Vada is a minor and she is off limits."

Han kept rubbing her shoulders.

"Okay, but what about you?" he asked.

She didn't say anything for a moment.

"Me?" she repeated. "I'm always 'on' limits," she said dryly. "Don't worry about me, Han."

She was silent again, and then she arched an eyebrow, turning her head up, and stepping away a little to look at him better.

"Hmm," she guessed. "Vada told you someone called me a cunt."

Han let his hands slide down her back a little. Setting his jaw, he nodded. Leia clicked her tongue once, softly, and Han ran his hand up and down her spine gently.

"She said you said not to, though," he defended.

"I am not mad at her," Leia said, shifting away.

She stood next to him again, shoulder to shoulder, both of them faced towards the icebox. She turned up her nose.

"If someone wants to call me a 'cunt' for threatening imprisonment over harassment of a minor, fine," she said curtly. "I have more unruly nerf to herd."

Han shifted uncomfortably.

"Don't…act not bothered by stuff, Leia," he said. "I gotta know if you're bothered."

"Well, I'm not," she said crisply.

They fell into silence, and Han crossed his arms. Leia sighed.

"I got together a few good schools to put her in," she said. "I used a network the Organas have used before for vetting, so we can talk to her about which sounds interesting to her. She should not go to a public school on Coruscant," she added firmly. "Given what we've seen," she added, gesturing at the artwork, "I want to look into additional academies that offer a focus on art."

Han just nodded. His stomach churned a little – more stuff Leia had done, and he was about to ask –

"I also asked Carlist to find me a therapist," she said. "To submit the psychological evaluation."

Han cringed, looking down at his feet.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "You sure you're okay with that?"

"If it's needed, it's needed," Leia answered simply. She shrugged. "I would say conventional wisdom holds I need to see a therapist," she added ruefully. "Whether I think it will be useful or not."

Han didn't say anything to that, and Leia leaned forward, glancing out of the kitchen into the hall. She listened to the 'fresher still running, and relaxed back, satisfied. Her shoulders lost some of their tensions.

"Is something wrong, Han?" she asked intuitively.

"Yeah. No."

"Convincing."

"No, nothin's wrong," he said hastily. "S'just," he began, chewing the inside of his lip. He gave a short sigh. "I gotta ask you to do somethin'," he forced out.

He felt worse, given that she said she'd just done all this research – or had it done – on schools and therapy for herself, all for him, all because of Vada and his situation. He hadn't done a damn thing in that regard – of course, she knew better, she had resources. Was it unfair of him to ask this next thing because she was a woman?

Leia turned her head quizzically, her expression soft, concerned. Something about the edge in his tone put her on high alert.

"Is it about Vada?" she asked.

"Yeah, but it's – "

"Han," she rested an arm on his elbow gently. "I didn't walk out the door, remember? I'm here."

He grunted.

"I want you to talk to her about somethin'," he said stiffly.

Leia squeezed his arm, and then let her arm slide off.

"You better not be using me to break bad news," she said. She cocked a brow dryly. "I'm not mean mom," she quipped.

Han smiled a little awkwardly, and the joke hung in the air – premature, probably too soon. Leia bit the inside of her lip – dammit, what had possessed her to say that, make light of it like that? Dammit, dammit.

"S'not bad news, no. She just…I need you to ask her if anyone…hurt her when she was in the home," Han blurted vaguely.

Leia nodded slowly. She tilted her head.

"Okay," she said calmly. "You know I don't mind talking to her, Han, but I think it would be a really good experience for you to do this sort of thing – "

"She has scars in her arms, from bullying? That's kinda the norm, but," Han cut her off, and then trailed off himself, hesitating, his mouth dry. "I need you to do it," he said again. "'Cause I need you to ask if…men…hurt her," he said delicately.

He knew Leia had been through some stuff on the Death Star. She had never discussed the extent of it. The most she'd ever said wasn't specific, just that – I wouldn't say I was raped in the definitive fashion. Whatever the hell that meant. Han didn't want to press her to talk if she didn't want to, and he was astute enough to know that the types of intimate abuse inflicted on women weren't always black and white.

Leia blinked.

"Oh," she muttered curtly, understanding crashing down on her.

She compressed her lips tightly, darker consequences of Vada's time in limbo unfolding before her. Her teeth pierced her bottom lip hard.

"Did she say something?" she asked in a low voice.

Han shook his head, tense.

"No, not specifically, but, I dunno, just...ask," he said edgily. "'Cause I saw some…stuff go on when I was in a home," he muttered gruffly, blinking hard. His shoulders sagged, and he thought of times he'd seen girls come back from private lessons, or days out with potential adoptive parents, looking haunted, or in tears.

He thought about it now, because he hadn't understood it then, even if it had made him feel dark inside, even at a young age.

She noticed he reached up and touched the scar on his chin gingerly.

"C'n you just talk to her?" Han pleaded. "I don't know what the rules are. I thought…maybe that should come from, y'know, a woman."

Leia nodded, touching his arm gently once more. She slid her palm down to his wrist and took his hand, squeezing it. He squeezed back, and turned to her, frowning.

"Am I bein' selfish, askin' you? I mean – "

"No, no," she soothed. "A conversation like that should come from a woman, if it can," she agreed. "And I think she trusts me."

"She does, she likes you," Han said quickly. "I mean, askin' you to talk to her, maybe you don't want to, maybe that's rough for you – "

"Han," she interrupted him again, drawing his hand up to her mouth. Her lips lingered on his fingers, and she closed her eyes. "I'll talk to her, and I will be okay."

Han fell silent for a while, thinking.

"What if someone did hurt her?" he asked finally.

Leia sighed shakily, her jaw twitching with anger. She shook her head.

"We'll find her a therapist," she said. "We'll do something…positive to move away from it."

Han settled down a little. He pulled his hand towards him, and drew Leia's with it, kissing her knuckles in return. She wriggled them flirtatiously, and then disentangled her hand. She started forward, and Han looked up, blinking.

"I'm going to change into pajamas," Leia said. "She wanted me to show her how to tuck-twist braid her hair for bed, anyway, so I'll talk to her tonight."

"Well, hang on," Han said, his mouth dry. "You can wait, I didn't meant it had to be – "

Leia lifted her shoulders.

"No harm in doing it now. It won't be fun regardless," she said. She tilted her head. "Or, nothing happened, and she'll look at me like I have two heads." Leia paused, and pursed her lips. "There are all kinds of reactions, Han, but," she hesitated again. "Vada doesn't seem to have an issue trusting men or meeting new men. And she's very affectionate. I don't think she's been sexually abused."

Han swallowed hard. He shrugged anxiously.

She started to leave, and he reached up to rub his forehead.

"Hey, Sweetheart, there's somethin' else," he began.

He didn't know why he felt the need to bring it up, but it seemed like something that would linger. Or come up again – and he'd rather Leia not be blindsided by it.

She paused.

"You have a son?" she asked.

Han gave a soft groan.

"Kriff."

Leia grimaced.

"I don't know what's wrong with me tonight," she said – another joke that was probably premature; too soon, she thought to herself.

"What stage of shock are we in?" Han asked dryly.

"You're thinking of grief," she answered. "What is it?" she prompted.

Han hesitated, and then looked over at her.

"She asked me how you and Luke are twins if he's not from Alderaan," he quoted dully.

Leia looked back at him, her gaze cast over her shoulder. She rested her hand on the doorway, pondering that for a moment. She hadn't expected that. It was an astute question for a child. Or maybe it wasn't – actually, it wasn't astute; and that wasn't to say Vada wasn't smart. What bothered Leia was the fact that a seven-year-old was asking the same question the galaxy sure as hell was whispering about.

"Hmm," she murmured. "She wants to know? I wish I didn't."

She let her hand slide off the doorway, and left the room. She felt Han watching her – and standing there in the kitchen, Han got the point; that was a conversation for another time, and that was fine. He felt again the stress of a situation where Leia might be finding herself subjugating her needs to his, or to Vada's.

When was the last time they'd made love, had sex, hell, even had a quickie before work in the kitchen? It hadn't been that long – Vada hadn't been with them that long – but the absence of that was starkly obvious, suddenly. It was probably due to stress, and the unfamiliarity of having a child under their roof.

He had to tell himself that, because the thought that there intimacy might be eroding for any other reason scared him in a way he couldn't bear.

When Leia heard the 'fresher water shut off, she gave Vada a moment to situate herself. For the most part, the past few nights, Vada had slipped away for her 'fresher – the little girl was understandably delighted with the luxury of having a 'fresher she didn't share with tons of other kids, and being able to use it daily – and then slip back into her room, get ready for bed, read a while, and then politely come say goodnight to them.

It was very regimented, and though Leia felt she was doing it because she was afraid of imposing too much, Leia also didn't want to force Vada into anything she wasn't comfortable with. She just made sure she and Han responded positively any time Vada was in the room, but didn't pressure her.

Leia finished washing her face, removed her make-up, and tied her hair back into a single, long, loose tail. She usually didn't keep it so casual – and she rarely went without braids – but for some reason, she felt like leaving it this way tonight. It would likely be a mess in the morning, but she didn't care.

She was taking the day – or at least, half of it. She thought it best if she and Han sat down with Vada and tried to discuss schools and whatnot, maybe visited a few. Take her by to meet Carlist.

Han slipped in as she was finishing up and pointed at their 'fresher. He grunted something about having a quick one, and stripped off his shirt. Leia paused to watch him for a moment, and then took a few steps forward, pressing her hands over his heart and leaning forward to kiss his bare shoulder.

He hugged her with one arm and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Love you, Leia," he murmured.

She nodded.

"I know," she said gently, kissing his shoulder again – she didn't know why she was struck by the sudden burst of affection.

Maybe it was seeing the scar on his shoulder, and wondering if Visenya knew the story behind it, too. Or maybe it was how hard he seemed to be trying today, being so perceptive, worrying about Vada's experience. It was sweet – or maybe she just missed his touch, because they'd been overly cautious around each other lately, unused to having a kid around – or maybe, maybe, it was because she sensed he was going through something deeply personal, that all this was making him confront how blasted terrible his own childhood had been.

He squeezed her tightly, and then let her slip away, and she smiled at him encouragingly. She exited the 'fresher and took a light robe from a bedpost, slipping it over her pajamas as she went towards the hall. She hoped he was getting it through his head that she wasn't mad at him. She wasn't, she was –

"Vada?" she asked.

She'd stepped out, and there stood Vada, poised awkwardly in the hallway, an uncertain gaze fixed on their bedroom door.

"Is everything okay?" Leia asked.

Vada nodded, her eyes snapping up.

"Well," she began. "I was…thirsty, but, um, I have never gone and got my own juice here," she explained hesitantly. "So I thought, maybe I should not without asking? I was thinking of what to do."

Leia smiled wryly.

"You can get drinks without asking. Snacks, too," she said, and then tilted her head. "Although, eating in the middle of the night isn't okay," she added.

Vada nodded earnestly.

"Go ahead, grab what you want," Leia encouraged. She pointed. "I can meet you in here to twist your hair for bed," she offered.

Vada beamed, delighted, and skipped past Leia. She turned, pausing.

"Is my dad in bed?" she asked. "Did I miss saying goodnight?"

Leia shook her head.

"'Fresher," she said.

"Oh," Vada breathed. "I will say goodnight right after hair-twisting," she said solemnly. "I am tired and I do not…feel like staying up late."

Leia nodded. She smiled, and Vada continued skipping off to get herself a drink. She had ducked into the kitchen, and Leia continued towards the guest – Vada's – 'fresher, idly wondering at that comment – she and Han ought to set a bedtime. She wanted to tell Han to lay down that law, but Han appeared to have no grasp on normal regulations for children – a result of his own nonexistent upbringing.

She was about to grab the comb, when she realized the mistake. She turned, hurrying towards the kitchen, realizing the problem. She nearly ran into Vada at the entrance.

"We don't have stools," Leia started, just as Vada was blushing, and saying: "I am too short to get myself anything."

Leia laughed, taking her shoulders tightly and turning her.

"We'll get stools," she said. "I could use some, anyway," she added dryly, rising as high as she could onto her toes to grab a flexible cup for Vada – something that wasn't breakable.

Vada waited, watching with interest.

"How do you reach things when my dad is not home?" she asked curiously.

She always seemed to say 'my dad' around Leia, as if Leia might be offended if she just called Han 'Dad.' Or maybe it was something else. Leia didn't know what was in Vada's head; she read her own impressions into the girl's actions. She needed to stop doing that.

Leia blushed. She opened the icebox.

"I boost myself up on the counters and kneel on them," she admitted.

Vada giggled.

"I am not even tall enough to boost," she sighed.

"You'll probably be tall," Leia said. "Your parents both are." She paused, and tilted her head. Then again, genetics were strange. She studied the inside of the icebox. "What would you like?"

"Bubble water, please."

Leia nodded, and pulled out the fizz decanter. She poured it into the cup, handed it to Vada, and replaced everything. Vada turned on her heel to lead them towards her bedroom. Leia darted sideways to grab the comb as she followed, and watched Vada set her cup on the side table and then sit down hesitantly, blushing.

"All of my drawings are on the icebox," she whispered. Han had put one of them up, of course, but now she noticed all of them were there.

"We like them," Leia said agreeably.

Vada compressed her lips.

"You think the drawing I did of you is…nice?"

"I think it's very nice," Leia said firmly. "I wish I breathed fire."

Vada looked relieved, and perked up. She sat back onto her bed further – it had bedding that was much more comfortable and homey, that she'd picked out herself, and she had more furniture, a small desk in the corner. Leia thought the walls needed colour and decorations, but she supposed Vada still felt temporary here. Another thing Leia did not want to push, lest Vada feel compelled to agree with what someone else wanted.

"Well," Vada said, blushing. "You made me feel safe." She hesitated a little more, and then she crossed her legs, rubbing her foot. "There is a Corellian folk story, it is called – The Honor Battle. Do you know it?"

"I don't think I do," Leia said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Vada brightened.

"Well, it is about when Corellia had kings and queens, long, way long time ago," she said, waving her hands expressively. "It is a long, long story, but it has a hero, his name was Jacen, and his mentor, and the mentor was a sorceress judge, her name was Priestess Jaina, and they freed Corellia from the bad kings and queens and gave Corellians democracy. She could breathe fire," Vada explained. "She was part dragon."

She frowned.

"I do not know how," she snorted. "Fairytale things."

Leia smiled.

"Han's mother's name was Jaina," she said.

Vada nodded earnestly.

"It is a common name on our planet," she said. "Because of Priestess Jaina."

"Is Han a common name?" Leia asked.

Vada cocked her head.

"I never heard of it before," she said. "But there is lots of things I had not heard of, so that is why I read," she said.

"That is a very good reason to read," Leia said. She scooted more onto the bed, and held her hands out. "You wanted it in looser twists, right? So it's tamer in the morning?"

"If you can," Vada said, blushing again.

She scooted back until she had her back to Leia, and was in good reaching distance, and Leia began working the comb gently through her hair, starting at the edges and careful not to tear the complex texture of Vada's hair too much.

"Thank you for doing my hair so much," Vada said quietly, after a long silence. "You do not have to be doing it."

Leia thought about how to respond.

"Hair," she said, "is important in my culture. It's how women bond with each other. So, maybe it comes naturally to me."

"Alderaan?"

Leia nodded.

Vada hesitated.

"My dad told me you were adopted," she said.

"Mm," Leia murmured. "I was a tiny baby, I don't remember it."

"Oh," Vada said softly, and nothing else for a little while. Leia worked on her hair, her thoughts rumbling around in her head – how to start, how to make this an open space, how to not make Vada uncomfortable –

"But did you feel like they liked you less because you were not from them?" Vada asked abruptly.

Leia faltered, distracted by her own thoughts.

"Did I think my adoptive parents loved me less?" she clarified.

Vada nodded, then gasped, and went back to being still. Leia smiled fondly.

"No, I did not feel that way," she answered honestly.

Vada's shoulder eased, and Leia looked at her quizzically, but didn't push.

"Did my dad give you a shoulder massage?" Vada asked. "I told him so, to do that."

Leia compressed her lips.

"He did," she said. "It was nice."

"Hmm, I think he might have done so without me saying so," Vada mused, "because he seems, I think, nice to ladies." She sighed, tilting her head back with the movement of Leia's comb. "I want, just, men to be nicer than they were to my mom, sometimes."

Leia bit the inside of her lip. Well, that seemed like a good – if inadvertent, yet eerily timed – segue.

"Can I ask in what way men were mean to your mom?" Leia ventured, calmly, but seriously.

Vada thought about it for a moment, twisting her lips up in a grimace. Her mom had been able to hold her own, and well, but Vada still sometimes thought maybe she put up with too much. Or cared too little about herself. She knew sometimes, Visenya told her 'don't talk back to me, Viddy,' – but then, men talked back to Visenya, and she just let them do it, and then sometimes let them stay the night.

"I do not know, really, I just had a feeling, I think," she explained. "One boyfriend, once, he slapped her," Vada said. "But Mommy hit back."

She shrugged.

Leia nodded.

She spent a few more moments detangling Vada's hair, then sectioned it off appropriately, set the comb aside, and began to gently, but loosely, braid, starting with little strands at the top of Vada's scalp, and tucking more and more in as she went.

"Were any of them ever mean to you?" she asked. "Gave you that bad feeling?"

Vada snorted.

"Well, one time a boyfriend of Mommy," she paused. "No, in Basic it is, Mommy's boyfriend, right?"

"Mmhmm."

"Yeah, that," Vada said. "He said I was as pretty as my mom, and in a few years, I would be ripe," she explained. "And I told Mommy, because, well, he was confused; he thought I was fruit," she laughed smugly.

She paused, and cocked her head to the side.

"I never saw him again," she added. "One time, I asked Mommy about him, where he went away to, and she said she had him killed."

Vada went silent, and then laughed under her breath.

"But, I think she was making a joke," she added, wincing.

It was probably best Leia not think Vada came from a pack of murdering wolves. Leia, and her job, were pretty civilized. She was also pretty sure her mother had never actually killed anyone. Or knew any murderers.

Leia forced herself not to react to the story, but scowled sourly on the inside. She did feel a swell of appreciation for Visenya. It was wonderful to hear that no matter how she'd handled her own personal life, or how frivolous or flighty she might have been, Visenya clearly did not tolerate the slightest bit of perverse behavior around her child. Vada had been five years old when her mother died, anyway, so where the hell did anyone get the idea that in just a few years, she'd be old enough for anything?

"Vada," Leia said softly, tying off the longer parts of Vada's braid into even looser twists, and then resting her hands on Vada's shoulders. She turned her slightly, and Vada did the rest, her expression curious as she faced Leia. "I want to talk to you about the home," she said. "Han says you were bullied."

Vada automatically reached up and touched the crooks of her elbows. She blew air out through her lips.

"Oh, he saw the cee-gar marks," she said, frowning. "He was mad." She pursed her lips, and then smiled at Leia shyly. "I kind of liked that he was mad…for me."

In spite of the weighty conversation they were having, Leia grinned.

"It's a nice feeling when someone is protective of you," she said.

Vada just nodded. She poked at one of her elbows.

"It was not too bad though, I promise," she said. "The mean big kids said I was not tough, and they got me sometimes, but I started to bite," she explained. "That was tough. I got left alone more, after."

"Good," Leia said firmly. "If someone is attacking you, or putting hands on you without your consent, or being persistent with asking you to do something, you have every right to defend yourself."

Vada shrugged a little. She eyed Leia thoughtfully, but harbored her own doubts. She didn't know if that sort of rough-fighting thing was okay in a fancier, richer world. She didn't think so, and she wouldn't do it, because it might make her seem wild if she did, and she had to make sure she wasn't wild or a problem so she didn't have to go back there.

"I wanted to ask if there was any other kind of bullying," Leia said gently.

Vada shrugged harder.

"Pushing, shoving, mean names, pulling hair," she listed. "Throwing pebbles, stealing blankets, stealing keepsakes – but not just me, everyone, at each other," she said dismissively.

"That's rough," Leia said.

Vada reached up to brush her fingers over the loose parts of her new braid. She didn't answer, just looked at Leia – waiting. There was obviously more. Leia did not disappoint her.

Leia took a deep breath.

"Did anyone ever make you do anything you didn't want to do, or put hands on you in a way you didn't want, in places that are private?" Leia asked. "Unwanted touches that is different from pushing, pinching, playground bullying?"

Vada ran her hand over her ankle, looking at Leia intently. She shook her head – she couldn't think of anything that had happened that Leia might be asking about. No one had ever touched her with her clothes off or anything like that.

"No, Leia," she said. "No things like…what you are saying, I think."

Leia studied her in silence, intent, and then accepted the answer. She didn't think Vada was lying – she didn't think Vada had reason to lie or to hide things, but then, one never really knew. So, she reached out and touched the tied off end of Vada's braid, nodding.

"If you think of anything, let me know. Or if anything happens from here on out, ever, with anyone, let me know," she said, "or let Han know."

Vada scrunched her nose skeptically.

"I know he's a man, but he's your father."

Vada snickered a little. She hadn't been skeptical because he was a man. She just didn't think her father was ready to be too touchy-feely yet. He was still twitchy. Figuring things out. The more Vada tried to make him comfortable, the more he seemed to not know what to do, so she just stayed patient – and underneath that, a little apprehensive that things might go sour.

"Thank you for fixing my hair again," she said.

Leia nodded, letting her hand drift down away from Vada's hair and to her own lap. She smiled, tilting her head.

"You going to stay up and read?" she asked. "Or are you still too tired?"

Vada stifled a yawn.

"I will say goodnight to my dad and then go to bed," she said.

Leia shifted to get off the bed, standing and crossing her arms across herself.

"I'll go tell him to come to you," she said. "You need anything else, before bed?" she checked.

Vada shook her head. She bit her lip, and then lifted her hand in a small wave, and scooted back to take a drink of her water. Leia smiled at her, inclined her head, and bowed out, going quietly down the hall.

Han was toweling off his hair in the bedroom, clad in only sweatpants. Leia swept his t-shirt off the bed and threw it to him.

"Go say goodnight to Vada," she advised.

Han caught the shirt and slid it over his head. He eyed her warily, smoothing his hand through his hair with tension in his shoulders, and Leia just gave a pointed shake of her head to indicate she hadn't uncovered anything. He looked relieved, and then ducked out to do as she'd told him.

Leia brushed her teeth, killed all the lights, and got into bed. It was entirely too early by her standards, but she felt drained. She was tired, and lost in a thousand thoughts, and some extra sleep – if it was good sleep – might do her some good. She was still wide-awake when she heard Han go back into the living room, assuming she'd be there. He came into the bedroom about ten minutes later, and if he was confused, or concerned, he didn't bother her about it.

He crawled into his spot next to her in bed and ran his hand over the back of her head, massaging her scalp, and then the back of her neck, and then her hip, soothingly. He kissed the nape of her neck, slid an arm over her waist, and tucked his head on her pillow.

After a moment of laying like that, Leia turned to face him, sidling closer.

"'M glad no one touched her," she murmured, almost unintelligible, into his chest.

Han held her a little tighter, and just nodded. He was glad, too – and he felt awful, having asked Leia to talk to her about it at all.

The first home visit conducted by social services came at a marginally inconvenient time, though Leia shrugged at Han's irritation over it and said that was likely the point. It wouldn't be useful to drop in on prospective families at a neatly set time and give them plenty of time to craft a perfect environment.

The notification that there would be a visit came day of, about four hours before it was to take place – Leia had been at her office with Vada again, conducting some light work, and Han had been with Rieekan.

They arrived home in plenty of time for the visit. Leia was insistent that despite the obvious unnaturalness of it, they try to act as they always did – always had – for the past two weeks now, settling into their new reality as they were.

Han had expected it to be more – invasive. For some reason, he'd been envisioning some sort of criminal investigative search of the apartment, with everything examined and categorized, and himself and Leia questioned about every little personal thing they owned.

It wasn't like that at all – rather, Efema Zune and Callum Kant did run-of-the-mill inspections that involved looking at the apartment's fire suppression systems, window locks, door locks, and other safety mechanisms, as well as making sure the bedroom and bathroom Vada was using where of adequate space, and gave her a decent amount of privacy and individuality.

They sat down, had tea and kaf that Leia – with Vada helping her – provided, and chatted, observing and getting a feel for things rather than anything else. Still, though they were cordial, it was still clear that they were uncomfortable around Leia. Or uncomfortable about something. They were tense, watchful, and kept eyeing each other, and then Vada, as if they had something else to say, no matter what they were saying at the moment.

Of course, it was possible they were just uncomfortable with the Princess of Alderaan offering them hot drinks, and then proceeding to make them herself.

Vada – impressively enough – had taken the lead on showing them around, and Han was pretty sure it had somethin' to do with her wanting to show them how much she preferred here to whatever limbo they had been holding her in for the weeks prior to tracking down Han.

"What do you usually have for dinner?" Zune asked Vada conversationally.

Vada, curled in the armchair she'd first sat in when she met Han and Leia that fateful evening, tilted her head, carefully balancing a bowl of snowgrapes on the armrest. They were in season and, in her first act of pretty confidently speaking up for what she wanted, Vada had asked Han for some.

She said they were one of her favorite fruits. Leia quietly told Han they probably counted more as dessert, so she was getting them for just that – and Han was left reminding himself he needed to learn more about how to be…good at this. Fathering. All that.

"Whatever my dad cooks," Vada answered, plucking at her grapes pointedly. "He cooks, mostly, a lot," she explained. "He is good at it, but I do not know how he learned," she said conversationally. "Or sometimes, Mr. Chewbacca, he cooks – Wookiee food is very savory."

Zune nodded. Neither she or Kant were making notes overtly, though their datapads were on the table with subtle recording devices, taping the conversations so it was more easily analyzed later.

"Quick foods, take-out?" Zune asked.

Vada shrugged.

"Not really, and not the gross kind," she insisted. "You know, not the greasy kind," she waved her hand, spitting out a few Corellian adjectives. "Miss Leia – Leia, she is picky. Ish. Dad says she stays healthy. Keeps him healthy."

Zune smiled.

Leia, who was standing behind Vada's sofa, reached down and stroked her hair back impulsively. Vada tilted her head back and grinned.

"She fixes my hair, always," Vada said. "It is nice. Like Mommy used to, sort of," she murmured, tilting her head back down. She frowned, hesitating. "Hang on, um," she glanced over at Han. "It is not…bad that we have take-out, sometimes?"

"No, no," Zune said firmly, shaking her head. She waved her hand. "Nothing we ask you is part of some magically ranked numeric formula," she explained kindly. "We're just trying to get a holistic picture of how things are going here, what life is like," she listed. "And remember, it's only been two weeks – unless something was glaringly and hideously wrong, we won't be making any snap decisions."

Vada stared at her warily, and popped a grape in her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. She relaxed down in her seat – only a little.

"There is not anything 'hideous' wrong," she murmured warily.

"It doesn't appear so," Kant said gruffly. He tapped something on his datapad, frowned, and sat back a little. "Ah, so we hear you are starting school tomorrow?" he asked, cutting a glance at Han.

Han grunted – he'd been standing awkwardly in the doorway since the inspection itself had ended and become more of a conversation.

"This week," he said. "Not tomorrow."

He said nothing else, and Kant cleared his throat.

"That is – well, it's impressively fast," he said, glancing at Zune.

She nodded.

"In many situations, it takes a long time to situate a child into a school – "

"I wanted to go," Vada blurted, interrupting. She sat up straighter, a wary look on her face. "They are not making me, not to make me get out, I said I wanted to go. That it was okay."

She sounded defensive, and Han smiled a little, his shoulders aching with tension.

"Vada," Zune said gently. "We aren't angry with anyone for getting you into school so soon. It's good."

Vada didn't quite relax, but she did look relieved. She munched on another grape, and glanced up to look for Leia, who had moved to give her some space.

"What school will she – you – be attending?" Kant asked, directing the question at all of them. He nodded at Vada kindly, but then turned to look at Han, waiting for an answer.

Han's jaw twitched, and he glanced at Leia as she moved over to him, trying not to grimace. He was still getting caught up on documents – Leia had handled so much of it in one of her carefully constructed, efficient whirlwinds. It was some – some Academy, it specialized in art, if he remembered right –

"She's going to try the Aurenia School," Leia said smoothly, coming to stand beside Han and folding her arms lightly. "It's artistry focused, though of course, like all the academies, offers a comprehensive education."

She paused.

"It also has impeccable security. The institutes for younger children are free learning focused, and admission is restricted and private. I myself learned sketching from an artist who used to teach elementary drawing there. She provided the recommendation."

That was somewhat of a half-truth. The artist who had instructed Leia had been murdered by Imperials during the war – her talent in propaganda proved too irritating for them to endure. However, Leia had remembered where she learned some of her skills, and remembered, too, that the original Aurenia had risked her life to thwart dark councils of men.

The memory provided the recommendation. Leia's other sources and security connections validated the school as a good choice, and Vada liked the idea. They had visited yesterday.

"I start in three days," Vada said earnestly, holding up three fingers. "I got more art kits to practice, my Dad helped pick them out. And a new knapsack, it has a tag that says my name on it, here," she pointed to the back of her neck.

"That school is an expensive option," Kant remarked, arching a brow. His gaze turned to Han. "Your finances, General So – "

"Our finances," Leia interrupted coolly, "are stable, and none of your concern."

Han chaffed a little at the mention of 'their' finances, if only because right now, with their undefined situation, he felt like he was leeching off Leia. If they were married, it might feel different ... if they were married -

Han blinked roughly, trying not to let himself get distracted.

"Just be aware that materialism isn't as important as Vada's overall happiness," Kant said, and grimaced a little. "Princess Leia, please – I am not trying to sound – "

Leia took a deep breath. She just nodded. She wanted to bristle, and she was not a huge fan of either of the social workers – though the woman was more tolerable than the man – but she understood. They had to cover themselves; they had no doubt seen cases in which things looked grand on the surface, but were rotten underneath.

This was all still awkward, the whole stumbling affair. By definition, a home visit could not actually replicate what Vada's home life was like right now. When people knew they were under a microscope, behaviors changed– no matter the situation.

"I am happy," Vada said edgily.

She shifted, and accidentally upended the remaining snowgrapes. They scattered to the floor, and Vada bowed her head, bringing one hand up to press it against her forehead. She groaned.

"I am – so clumsy," she started.

"Vada, don't worry," Leia soothed softly. "It's only snowgrapes."

Han strolled forward and began picking them up, tossing them back into the bowl. Vada reached for it, reaching for one, and Han instinctively drew the bowl away, shaking his head, and giving her a funny look.

"No, they were on the floor," he said gruffly. "S'bad for you."

Vada blinked.

"Well, I do not want the food to be wasted," she said.

Han sat back on one leg, tilted his head, and then grinned at her. He stood up, gesturing towards the kitchen.

"That's real nice of you, but this ain't the home anymore," he said. "C'mon, I'll get you some more."

Vada peered at him thoughtfully, and then beamed. She scrambled up, and followed Han into the kitchen. Leia turned to watch them go, and then turned slowly back to the social workers, giving them a quiet, appraising look. Among the three of them, not a word was said, until Kant cleared his throat tensely.

"From a preliminary standpoint, it appears Vada is adjusting well."

Zune nodded earnestly.

"She seems happy. At ease," she said, and then snorted. "More afraid of us than either you or her father."

Leia remained silent for a moment more, and then inclined her head.

"Neither Han nor myself knew Vada before," she said mildly, "but asked at face value, I would say she is happy right now. She's getting to know Han. That's what's important for the time being."

"And you, Your Highness?" Zune asked. "How are you adjusting?"

"Is that not a question for my therapist?" Leia quipped. She smiled wryly at the look that overtook Zune's face, and lifted one shoulder. "Vada is a bright, genuine little girl with a good heart," she assessed firmly.

"Do you get along with her?" Kant asked.

"Yes," Leia responded, without elaboration.

It was the truth – what wasn't there to get along with? Vada was seven years old, thoughtful and shy – but that was situation-based, Leia guessed, not inherent – smart, eager to learn, and just really hoping to find a place in the world. On some level, though in vastly different circumstances, Leia could relate to that. For a long time, Leia had been homeless.

Even if this was unexpected, and unreal, and still felt – so far from what she'd anticipated a life with Han to be like – Leia had found a new place with Han, and if Vada could, too, in her own way, that had to be some kind of beautiful thing.

It was odd to think that Han, nomad that he was, had become home to Leia, and had the potential to be home to someone else, too.

She thought Vada was sweet, that was a fact. And regardless of everything else, it was difficult not to look at her, and have her so very Han-like eyes staring back, and not feel something. She was truly blessed to have those eyes – Leia was almost willing to argue that they did something to her on a biological level.

Was it that simple? That she could think – Han is mine, and this is his offspring, so she's mine, too? Did she think that?

She sighed quietly enough not to be heard, and narrowed her eyes at the two on the sofa. Kant had leaned over to Zune, grimacing again, and pointed out a second spot on his datapad. Zune gave him a tight-lipped look, and tried to subtly glance after Han.

"Is something the matter?" Leia asked neutrally.

She knew the answer. Reading people was her forte.

Before either could utter an answer, though, Vada approached from behind, touching Leia's palm gently.

"I was – am – going to have my 'fresher," she said, tilting her head up. "My dad – well, Dad," she added, smirking, "says it is getting late," she lowered her voice, and crinkled her nose, "he thinks," she quoted.

Leia smiled.

"It is," she agreed. "He washed towels last night, though, so a dry one for you is in the auto valet warm box."

Vada nodded, smiling, and leapt away. She turned to go, a ribbon tied to one of her braids fanning behind her, and then turned, slipping her hands down by her sides. She stared at the social workers uncertainly.

"I can – can I go?" she asked, thinking they might not be done with her.

She thought this whole entire evaluative situation was frustrating and weird. The longer it went on, the more wary she was that someone could just snatch her back from this wonderful world of abundant food, nice schools, art kits – and people who seemed to love each other, and at least be on their way to trying to love her.

They treated her kindly, if nothing else, and warmly, and she felt safe.

"Oh, you – don't have to ask us for permission," Zune said hastily. "Go on with your night as if we're not here."

"But you are here," Vada pointed out, a little testily.

"She's got a point," Han said dryly, from somewhere behind Leia.

He folded his arms again.

"We won't be much longer," Kant offered, clearing his throat.

"What you do is really up to your parents," Zune said. She caught herself, and flushed. "Ahh, your father," she said, and then essentially floundered: "Han and Leia," she added faintly.

Vada just nodded slowly. She glanced away from them, darted quick looks and Han and Leia, and then dashed off, obviously relieved to be away from them. She felt like if she remained too long around Corellian government agents, they'd decide this was all a mistake and drag her back, and no matter how good she was trying to be, she might kick and scream a little.

Especially if – if Han and Leia wanted her, really – and not just because they were good, kind people and the law made them make the best of it.

Leia watched Vada go, and then took a step forward, arching her brows. She was about to say something when Han beat her to the punch, taking one step past her and narrowing his eyes at the two of them.

"You two been shifty as thieves all night," he said in a low voice. "What's the problem?"

Leia was surprised by the aggression in his tone, but she said nothing, just stood at his shoulder and backed him up with a look. She had sensed the same discomfort in the two, stemming from more than just the general discomfort of such visits.

Zune glanced at Kant, and then both of them stood, gathering their things.

"Well, nothing," Zune said – and Leia got the distinct sense she was being honest, yet also trying to downplay something.

So, to convey that, Leia simply said:

"Yet," in a clipped, matter-of-fact voice, finishing what seemed unfinished.

"There is no problem with either of you," Zune said, while Kant shifted his feet. "The Media attention," she began hesitantly.

"Is regrettable," Leia interrupted. "There is very little I can do to eradicate it completely, but I am exercising significant – "

"That isn't the issue," Kant interrupted.

He paused for a moment, considering whether he was horrified that he'd just interrupted Princess Leia, and then seemed to let it go – though Han gave him a scathing glare.

"What is 'the issue,'" Han quoted sourly.

"Vada's name and surname in the news," Zune said dully. "It caught the eye of the Vardalos clan on Corellia," she paused, her lips compressing tightly, "despite their earlier…refusals of responsibility."

Leia pressed her fingertips against her elbow coolly, eyeing the social worker. She said nothing, but her mind was racing suddenly – clan? Had Zune said – clan?

Han shifted his feet edgily.

"What the hell's that matter?" he asked tersely. "You said Visenya's mother refused – "

"She did," Zune placated. "It just seems," she stopped, her lips parted dryly. "Well, I don't know what is on the horizon, but Callum and I have both been contacted by Vardalos lawyers. Preliminary feelers, not much more."

Han looked between them narrowly, his eyes flashing.

"This is better discussed when we have more information – if there is any of relevance – and without Vada anywhere near," Kant said firmly, "but suffice it to say that there is a possibility the Vardalos clan may put in a bid for custody. Or," he sighed.

Zune took over.

"We aren't sure what is going on right now," she said. "I can only say, again, that their lawyers are reaching out."

Han kept staring at them, stunned. His heart leapt into his throat, but he wasn't sure why, other than, other than – what the fuck? At the end of a two week period when he was slowly waking out of the fugue that had struck him, to sort of, maybe, start accepting that this was his normal now –

"Yeah, and what?" Han demanded. "The Vardalos clan wants her now? 'Cause she's high profile, good for their image? They sure as fuck don't need the money sellin' stories about her would bring."

Leia laid a hand on his arm sharply. She turned her head, mouthed 'Vada,' and then tensed her jaw. Even if Vada was safely in the 'fresher, hearing nothing – they needed to tread carefully. There was no need to scare her.

Zune and Kant shared a look, and he rubbed his forehead. She sighed heavily, and tucked her portfolio of things against her chest.

"We have a meeting with a Vardalos representative in the morning," Zune said quietly. "We are unsure what is going to come of it, but we certainly won't be withholding any information from you when we have it. That's all we know as of now."

Leia still said nothing, even when Han looked at her tensely, as if waiting for words of wisdom. She was too busy thinking – suddenly, she was hearing Vada's surname differently, and not in terms of pronunciation. She was just abruptly aware, quite abruptly, that she had heard the name Vardalos before.

Han folded his arm tightly.

"Let me guess," he said. "You'll do some evaluatin', and let us know."

Zune grimaced, but Kant gave Han a bold look.

"Yes, General Solo. As previously. That is how this will go."

Leia tightened her hand on Han's arm to keep him from reacting. Han clenched his teeth, but refrained from lunging forward, or even clutching his knuckles in a white grip. He just stared at the man, wondering who was being more unreasonable.

"If that's all then, it's probably best that you two be on your way," Leia said politely. "That is, if you have all you need from this visit?" she added crisply – though her last suggestion did not seem negotiable.

"Of course," Zune said.

She inclined her head. Kant did as well, and then Leia looked at Han pointedly, silently asking him to show them out. Han marched them to the door, and while he did, Leia went into the kitchen, grabbed a wine glass from the cabinet, and poured herself half a glass of an aged Nubian burgundy.

She took a sip, took a deep breath, and then walked back into the living room, where she found Han staring around warily, as if he'd lost her. He looked at her, and relief washed over his face, and she stared at him for a moment, holding her wine.

"What?" Han asked, brow furrowing.

"Han," she began delicately, still unable to shake the name out of her head – Vardalos, Vardalos, Vardalos – clan. "What was Visenya's mother's name?"

Han blinked at her.

"Visenya's – hell, I don't know," he scoffed, shrugging hard. "Didn't talk family much. She hated 'em. And I didn't have one," he said edgily.

Leia paused, her lips pursed. She let out a breath slowly.

"Could it have been Vaella Vardalos?" she asked. "Could her father have been Vito Vardalos?"

Han gave her a wary look, unsure where she was going with this.

"Uh," he began. "Yeah, Vito. I mean, that guy – yeah, he runs the Corellian ship-building corporations," Han muttered. "Think…once she said he was her father. Or her uncle. Or somethin'."

Leia just stared at him incredulously – or rather, she stared at him, and mentally chastised herself – how had she been living, for two weeks, with a little Corellian girl with the surname 'Vardalos' and hadn't made the connection?

"Look, Leia," Han started, uncertain. "Senny hated her family. She really hated 'em. And I talked to Vada 'bout it a couple of times, Vada never met those people, 'cept one or two bad times – "

Leia was shaking her head.

"No, Han, you don't understand," she murmured.

She took another sip of wine, and then turned, taking a seat on the armrest of the sofa. She tilted her head back a little.

"When you – when they – said 'Vardalos,'" she began, her teeth clenched. "I didn't assume you meant those Vardaloses."

Han cocked his head, taken aback. He folded his arms, surprised.

"You know' em?" he asked.

Leia rested the bottom of her glass on her knee, and held one hand out pointedly.

"They're not royalty, but they are richer than some of the Elders," she said faintly, thinking of the sheer wealth that family commanded – not that it particularly daunted her. The Organas were by and far one of the richest, oldest dynasties in the galaxy, but as far as fresh-made, magnate money went – the Vardalos clan commanded trillions. "They bank-rolled the opposition to Garm Bel Iblis, and they were Imperial loyalists – that doesn't matter," she said hastily, breaking off her political tirade.

Why hadn't she keyed in on that name immediately? Was it because the Vardaloses had been so quiet since the end of Imperial rule? Since Bel Iblis was fully backed by the new galactic order and ruling from Coronet City with his liberal ideas? Was she just too stressed about everything else, too focused on Han?

"I didn't know they had a daughter," Leia said edgily – and she had, at some point or another, come across the sons and daughters of almost every rich and powerful family in the galaxy, whether in passing, in education, or at court.

She blinked down at her wine, and looked back up.

"I can't believe you slept with a Vardalos," she said.

Han gripped the insides of his elbows, gritting his teeth. He felt apprehensive – what was she getting at: what was the problem? And what the hell did it mean that this family's lawyers were 'reaching out' so to speak? For Sith's sake, in all the time he'd known Visenya, she'd barely mentioned her family members, and she'd so clearly despised them.

"You didn't think to ask?" he asked.

"I," she started. She sighed. "I suppose I didn't know if the name was common on Corellia, and I just assumed – "

"Underestimated me, huh, Princess?" Han guessed smoothly. His lips pulled back in a slight, teasing grin. "Yeah, I had a high society girlfriend," he drawled.

"Yes, so I see," Leia said dryly. "You have a type."

Han looked at her for a minute, and then sighed. He came forward, and sat down on the kaffe table, looking at her intently.

"Yeah," he said again. "Women who had all that, and still got down in the dirt," he said gruffly. "That's my type – Leia, Senny," he paused, grimacing. "Visenya," he said, and Leia glanced at him curiously. "She'd been disowned for years when I met 'er. Blacklisted. Didn't take a credit from that family and I think she'd've chanced her name, 'cept it pissed her folks off so much that she was a vagrant, she kept it to embarrass 'em," he explained.

He shrugged hard.

"They weren't good to 'er, I don't think. Sure as hell ain't been good to Vada, so what's the – why's it got you so pale?" he asked, and then nodded at her hand, "and drinking the good wine in the middle of the week."

Leia lifted it to her lips with a grim look.

"They have money, power, and influence, Han," she said.

Han rested his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his knuckles.

"So d'you," he mumbled.

Leia sighed, looking away.

"I'm not blood," she said.

Han watched her, and then sat up. He blinked, watching her profile. Did she mean - ?

"They can't want her, though," he said. "They already sent her away once! That can't be why they'd – what the hell, Leia?" he asked, exasperated.

His chest ached uncomfortably, and he tried to decipher what he was feeling. He had barely started to get used to the idea that Vada was his, and here to stay, and what – Leia thought someone was going to come take her away? People who had put her in a home in the first place?

"I don't know why they would be reaching out, Han," Leia said heavily. "But I can't imagine it's good."

Han's head swam. And was she saying – if this was the case, he was on his own? She couldn't help? Han had fame; that wasn't the same as what the Vardaloses had or what Leia had. Was she saying she wouldn't be able to help?

His mouth felt dry, and he made a noise starting to say something, but she looked back at him. She leaned forward and touched his knee with her free hand, very lightly.

"I don't want her to go to them," she said, very quietly. "It isn't only that – we know they rejected her once," she murmured. "That family is ruthless. Vada is not their second chance to redeem – Senny."

"Visenya," Han muttered.

"It doesn't bother me that you call her 'Senny,'" Leia said.

"Sounds like it does," Han muttered without thinking.

"This is what you want to talk about right now?" Leia asked sharply. "What you called your ex-girlfriend?"

"Are you talking about my mom?"

Vada's voice startled both of them; Leia nearly tossed her wine down Han's shirt. She'd snuck up without the barest hint of a noise, and both Han and Leia turned to stare at her, wondering what she'd heard. She stared back at them with wide eyes, wary – but it wasn't the look of a child who'd just heard people she barely knew, who had traumatized her, might worm their way back into her life.

Han stared at Vada, clad in her pajamas, her hair wet, with a gobsmacked look. Leia held her glass to the side, pursing her lips in a small smile.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, we were. Han calls her by a nickname. He gives everyone nicknames, you know," she said lightly.

Vada nodded, and followed it with a smile. She skipped forward a little.

"Can I have one?" she asked, looking at him hopefully.

Han cleared his throat.

"Y'know I can call you Viddy," Han said gruffly. "'Cause we got a little used to each other, yeah?"

Vada nodded, and looking at her, he tilted his head.

"But hey, I c'n come up with somethin' that's just for you," he said, figuring that might be what she meant, "S'not just the usual nickname everybody'd use."

Vada bit her lip, and grinned wider. She took a few loping steps forward, and before Han knew it, she'd thrown herself into his side and wrapped her arms around him in an impromptu hug. He looked so surprised, that Leia almost laughed. She pulled her glass closer, and reached out impulsively to touch Vada's damp hair, and stroke it back.

And for the second time – or third, or fourth – Han felt blindsided, and lost. He was just barely adjusting to this, and now there was some chance another person might come in and try to take Vada away? How was he supposed to feel? How was he supposed to react, what was he supposed to do? Was he glad there might be some kind of out? No – he didn't think he was. But…would Leia want the out? He wasn't sure – it didn't sound like she did.

He'd only just met Vada, but she was his. Yet Leia – Leia was his life. And right now, in this moment, if he had to choose…?

He looked up at Leia over Vada's head, and she was busy tucking bits of Vada's hair behind her ears. He swallowed hard, and squeezed Vada's shoulder. She pulled back, blushing, and hastily tried to compose herself, as if she'd broken a personal rule, or let herself get too close.

Han was still too unsure of himself, and this whole new world, to say or do anything to make her feel at ease.

But he found himself remembering Visenya's note –

Please care about her.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

"Spork and Spryte"

Vada was nervous, and worried, and it had very little to do with the fact that she was in a new school - a real school - and surrounded by new people. This was the first time she'd been around so many other children since the social workers had taken her out of the home, and the children in that home had been nothing like the peers she was with now. Nor had she known children like this - civilized, wealthy, charming children - when it was just her and her mother. Her mother had run in adult circles, and Vada's first school, which she briefly attended before Visenya died, was a run-of-the-mill public place where individuals mattered little and performance mattered a lot.

At this place, the instructors seemed to care, and the children all seemed loved and cared for - not that Vada's mother hadn't cared for her, of course. She had, she'd just been...distracted about it, usually. These peers - they did not have distracted parents, Vada assumed. Some of them even had overbearing parents, probably. She thought she'd be more nervous about the school, but she wasn't. She might have been if she wasn't bothered by...the other things.

The whispers. She was trying not to eavesdrop, but her father and Leia both were whispering. They had been since the home visit a few days ago, since Vada had overheard them discussing her mother. She hoped they weren't fighting about it, but their voices had sounded tense - and Vada thought herself pretty good at figuring out people's tones. It served her well in the home, when she'd been able to stay on people's good sides by reading them and their moods.

The thought of whispers stressed her out, because she knew when adults whispered, it was always something negative. At least in her experience. Her mother had never been a whisperer, but her mother had also been a little too careless about what she let Vada overhear. And after her mother, whispers had never been good. Not once had whispers turned out to be a surprise party, or a new toy, or a fun trip, like some kids got - although, maybe the whispers that had surrounded delivering her to Han Solo had been good, in a way.

She had been nervous about all that, and then she wasn't so much. Now the nerves exploded in her again - and all because of whispers. When she didn't know what was going on, her mind went wild - which was understandable. She had a good imagination. She'd spent a lot of time finding ways to escape various circumstances in her life that she didn't like. That often involved telling herself stories, or dreaming of better worlds. Right now her imagination was telling her that the only logical reason for whispers was that Han and Leia were fighting over her, or her mother - or both.

Vada wondered, with a hollow, scared feeling, if maybe Leia wasn't as okay with this whole thing as she seemed. But that didn't seem right - Vada knew Leia was very good at controlling her emotions and reactions, but she never seemed fake. None of her care seemed to lack genuine intent. Would a lady who was mad about her boyfriend's daughter be braiding that daughter's hair and buying her things and taking care of her so nicely...?

It was confusing. The whispers were confusing. The Media was confusing, because they were so interested in her, and in Han Solo and her, and in all of it - and Vada couldn't see what was so interesting to people who didn't even really know them. Why did they care? Why did they want pictures of them or to spread wild gossip? It was confusing and alarming where it at first it had been a little fascinating. Just a little. Now it felt awful - though Vada did notice that no one at this school seemed to be bothered by her or excited by her. Maybe they were good at hiding it. It was probably silly to think they didn't care - because Vada was remembering that when she used to see famous people on Holos or hear about them, whether they were rock stars or Rebels or Princesses - she kind of cared and wanted to know more about them.

But now she knew they were just people, and maybe some of them asked for all that attention, but when it came to Leia, she was doing her job, and she did not want her personal life public. Han certainly didn't either. And because of Vada, or at least, she felt like it was because of her, the attention on them was more aggressive lately and maybe that was causing them to whisper and quietly fight.

Vada sighed, pausing to examine the drawing she was doing. It was the end of the day, and each day ended with a relaxation period after all the learning - an artistic outlet. Vada had quietly chosen glitter wax to work with, though she hadn't been quite sure what she wanted to draw. She'd just started filling the whole page as if it was the black, starry expanse of a galaxy, and now she was looking at the white circle she had left in the middle to fill with a planet.

She bit her lip. She had thought maybe she might draw Coruscant, as seen from the sky. Or Corellia. Maybe she should try something else though, something for Miss Leia - Leia. To be extra special to her.

She pulled her datapad close and searched for a reference image hesitantly, and tried to focus. She was alone at her table, but she didn't mind that. She was still new. She didn't think other students were being mean or exclusive, just shy, or too used to their own groups to welcome someone else yet. That was okay - she was still getting used to things, too. And she had never been very effusive around strangers. Her mother had taught her to be wary of all she didn't know. And the home taught her that three times over.

The instructor passed by her desk, looked down, and smiled.

"That's a lovely start, Vada," she said pleasantly.

"Thank you, Madam," Vada responded, looking up.

The instructor paused, and crouched, looking closer.

"How was your second day?" she asked. "I know new schools can be an adjustment," she said kindly.

"It was nice, thank you," Vada answered earnestly. "I like this place. It is quiet. I like all the art."

"I'm glad," the instructor responded.

She looked at Vada's reference photo, and the planet waiting to be illustrated on her physical canvas.

"That's Alderaan, is it not?" she asked.

Vada nodded, tapping the screen to keep it bright.

"The Jewel of the Core," Vada quoted quietly. She hesitated, and looked up worriedly. "But, maybe, I think I should draw Corellia instead?" she asked. "I do not know. Do you think this would make her sad?"

"Who?" the instructor asked pleasantly.

Unlike the Media, all of the people here - even most of the kids, though Vada knew some of them were looking at her askance, and with fervent, quiet interest - were good at pretending they didn't know who she was associated with or about the drama surrounding her. They were used to high profile students, Leia had said - they knew how to behave and protect.

"Princess Leia," Vada said softly. "I am staying with her. Well, my dad and I," she trailed off a little. "Um, what do you think? Too sad? Or nice?"

She was starting to doubt her little plan for a nice gift, just as she was starting to doubt that this might be a stable place after all.

"Well," the instructor began kindly. "In your heart, what do you want to draw? Do you want to draw Corellia, or Alderaan?"

Vada hesitated. She thought about it, and shrugged.

"I think I really want to draw Alderaan," she said quietly.

The instructor beamed.

"Then you should," she said simply. "I think our art is always better when it's what we want to be creating, and feel good about creating," she offered, "and even if something is sad, I think the thoughts and the memory will be appreciated."

Vada smiled at her. That sounded like a nice sentiment - and maybe she was right, maybe it would be nice, even if it was a little sad. So, she decided to stick to her original idea.

"I have drawn Corellia oh, a lot," she confided. "It is pretty from space, but not always so pretty on land," she offered.

"Do you miss it?" the instructor asked.

Vada thought about it. No one had asked her that, she realized - and she hadn't really thought about it much. Things had been so crazy and wild, and she'd had plenty to distract her. While her first nights with Han and Leia had been lonely, strange, and isolating, they hadn't been full of longing for what she'd had. She didn't miss sleeping with her eyes half open and worrying about bigger kids and what pranks they might play, and every day she'd been here she'd known she would get food - she wasn't sure at all how to answer.

"Maybe," she said finally. "I am, like, um, proud to be from Corellia," she said firmly. "But I think I do not miss where I was. Except my mother," she added, as an afterthought.

She rarely thought about her mother. She wasn't sure if that was because her brain was protecting her by hiding how much she missed her in the back, and locking it away, or if she was so little when her mother died that she was slowly forgetting her. And she didn't know how either of those options made her feel - but she did know that when she saw the images they had found of Visenya projected on the Holos, she had thought - I do not remember Mommy's hair being that long. She had trouble recalling her face clearly without help.

The instructor patted Vada's shoulder, and moved on to another table. Not a minute after she had moved on, a classmate shuffled up to Vada's table hesitantly. Out of the corner of her eye, Vada saw the instructor pause protectively to watch the interaction. She sensed that maybe Leia had told these teachers to make extra sure no one bothered her.

Vada was resolved to be friendly, though, unless someone gave her cause not to be.

"Hi, Vada," the classmate said shyly. "Vada, right?"

Vada noticed that her approach drew some curious, interested looks from other students, seated with their friends. This girl had left a table where she had been sitting with another boy and girl, and was holding her own artwork and tools in her hands. She stood at the side of Vada's solitary desk eyeing her cautiously, as if she didn't want to make her nervous.

"Hi," Vada said in response. "Yes, it is Vada."

The girl cleared her throat, and then said in very careful, stiff Corellian:

"Can I sit here with you?"

Vada smiled brightly. She nodded.

"It is okay to speak Basic, though," she said eagerly. "I need to practice."

The other girl sat down. She had very blue eyes, so blue they were almost clear, almost like snow, and very, very blonde hair. Vada thought she looked a little bit like a toy doll, but not in a bad way. In a pretty way. She watched her get comfortable in her seat and lay out her materials at the table carefully.

"I don't like when people sit alone," the girl said. "I'm Dita."

Vada jumped forward a little and held out her hand like all polite people did, to shake.

"Vada," she said, even though Dita already knew her name.

Dita beamed.

"My whole name is Dita Dalatarriah," she said, lowering her voice secretively. "My mama is a serious film actress," she said, "and two years ago, my papa left her for another famous film actress, and everyone was really crazy over it. Taking pictures all the time, and also trying to take pictures of me and see things, and I was really little. So was my baby brother," she explained. "So, I know what it's like. When people get in your face. It sucks."

Vada nodded slowly - Dita's slang was Coruscanti, but her accent wasn't.

"Also," Dita said, animated. "My mama is half from Alderaan, her dad was from there," she explained. "We are big Princess Leia supporters. We like her."

Vada beamed.

"I like her, too," she offered cautiously.

Dita nodded.

"Is she nice? On the Holo, she seems nice. Scary to bad people, but nice to good people."

"She is nice," Vada said.

The instructor approached casually, looking down at Dita's work, and then over at Vada's again idly.

"Dita," she murmured, calm, but firm, "please do not pry for information."

Dita shook her head, earnest, honest intentions written all over her face.

"Madam Losha, I promise you, I am not a spy or anything. I just want to be friends, and have Vada not sit alone," she insisted.

Madam Losha considered them for a moment, and looked to Vada. Vada just smiled at her hesitantly, but nodded. She knew she should be careful, probably, so she didn't accidentally say or do something that someone would tell the Media about, but she also thought Leia had probably vetted this place pretty well. And again, she was good at reading people, and Dita seemed nice - Vada could use a friend. Madam Losha clasped her hands behind her back, acknowledged that Vada was comfortable with the situation, and let it be.

Vada lowered her eyes to Dita.

"My mama heard you were coming to school here," Dita confided, "and she said to make you feel comfortable. She said because it is right, and also, because since she is half from Alderaan, I am also a little bit from Alderaan, and all people from there stick together now."

Vada took a deep breath.

"I am not Alderaanian," she said slowly.

Dita shrugged energetically.

"But it's not just about blood and stuff," she said, "even Princess Leia was adopted to Alderaan, and now she's like your kind of stepmom, so," Dita shrugged again. "That is that."

Vada shifted nervously at the idea of Leia being called her 'stepmom.' She didn't know if Leia would like that - after all, Han was still getting used to being called Dad.

Not sure what to say to that, Vada tilted her head.

"What are you drawing? Or what is your art?" she asked.

Dita slid her kit over. She pointed to the tray she was using.

"Magnet dust mural," she said. "The metals are dyed, and you use a magnetic brush to create sort of like, skylines. I like sunsets."

"Pretty," Vada complimented. She pointed at her unfinished drawing. "I am…drawing Alderaan," she said. She paused. "Did you ever go?" she ventured.

Dita nodded hurriedly.

"Yes, but I was teensy," she said. "A teensy, teensy baby. Before they destroyed it. I do not remember. But my mom does. She spent summers there."

"Did she know Princess Leia?" Vada asked curiously.

Dita giggled.

"No, Mama wasn't famous yet, just a regular girl. Her Highness was always famous."

Vada nodded – that was true.

"Mama was like your dad, not famous, but then," with her hands, Dita mimed something bursting open, "suddenly, boom, everyone knows them."

"My dad does not like it," Vada said quietly.

"I think most people don't," Dita said smartly. She arched her brows. "Except the lady my dad is with now. She says in interviews that she's loving being a mommy, like she is my mom or something. It causes probleeeemmmms," Dita drawled. "Especially since she is mean, mean, mean to my and my brother in private."

"I bet," Vada agreed.

She looked down at her drawing, considering it thoughtfully. Leia would like it. She was sure of it. Leia had liked her other drawings, when they hung on the icebox. She had left them there and they were still there. So if she made special ones just for Leia, that would be friendly, in case…in case she was stressed or having doubts.

Maybe Leia didn't really want to be even a stepmom, just like Vada kind of thought her own mom used to regret deciding to be a mom. So Vada was eager to keep being good, so that Han and Leia both continued to like her – she already knew they liked her. But you could like people without wanting them around all the time.

After a moment of sitting in easy quiet with her, Dita looked up. She touched Vada's arm.

"Would you like to come meet my friends?" she asked. She pointed at the table she'd come from. "They're nice, and they don't make gossip. Kitto, his dad is a very super rich banker, so people try to kidnap him a lot, for ransom, and Pru is on scholarship, so she's nice because she's always had to earn things."

Vada blinked at that, and Dita grinned.

"That's what my mama says," she said proudly.

Vada grinned. She looked over at the other two cautiously, and they waved, apparently having been part of Dita's plan to welcome her. Vada bit her lip, and looked down at her drawing. Her mind had already been taken off the whispers, and the nosy media, just a little – and it might be nice to have even more distractions.

And friends, it would be nice to make friends. But – she also hesitated a little. After all, what if…? She stopped her thoughts though. She didn't want to think about what might happen if she didn't stay here. She wanted to have friends, good, close friends. She had never really had that; when her mother was alive, her world was very adult-oriented, or lonely. In the home, she had friends, but friendships were odd there. Not normal. Competitive. Sneaky. Untrustworthy.

She took a deep breath, and nodded, smiling slowly again. This would be good – she could tell Han and Leia she made friends today, and the next home visit or her interview, she could tell that to the social workers, and that would look good for everyone.

It had to.

Vada came home from her academy with more energy than Leia had seen her express in the entire time she'd come to them – which was good; it had to be good. Leia felt relieved, and she was sure Han was glad to see all the personality and effervescence, too, even if he seemed overwhelmed to distraction by it.

His problem, Leia thought – in her entirely unprofessional opinion, of course – was that he was so petrified of doing something wrong or looking and sounding silly that he let Vada guide things to the detriment of forming an authoritative relationship with her. Though, admittedly, Leia didn't know how to help with that, or what she'd do in his shoes – that was the blessing of being a woman, in some respects.

If she had a baby, she'd know about it.

She just tried to make Vada feel comfortable, and to emulate the way her parents had treated her, and all the ways she knew to be considered normal child-rearing practices on Alderaan. She had some minimal experience in that she'd grown up around neat, happy families.

Han grew up with little supervision, and a problem with authority.

"So, I made some friends," Vada was telling Han happily. "Dita, Kitto, and Pru. Dita is a little bit Alderaanian," she said, her eyes skirting to Leia's back.

They were all in the kitchen, Han leading the charge on cooking dinner, Leia lingering to learn from him, and Vada tucked in, integrating. Leia looked over her shoulder.

"What's her family name?" she asked.

"Um," Vada began hesitantly. "Well, it is her mom who has some Alderaan parts. And I think Dita has her Dad's name, it is Del-Del-ah…tarrio?"

Leia thought for a moment, the familiarity on the tip of her tongue, but Han surprised her by speaking up first.

"Dalatarriah?" he snorted. "Ain't that the name of some rock star who caused that big scandal leavin' his wife?"

Vada nodded earnestly.

"That is the name," she said. "Dita Dalatarriah. Her dad is the rock star. Her mom is the wife he left."

"Oh, I remember that," Leia murmured. She turned back to poke at the sauce Han was cooking, eyeing it warily. "Her mother is the actress," she paused, reflecting on the name. "Freya Taxo, she donates to Alderaanian causes. That was a nasty, public custody battle," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Dita speaks Corellian, too," Vada offered. "And, also, she said her family, they love you, Leia. Her mom does."

Leia smiled over her shoulder.

"It's nice when people like you," she said softly.

Vada leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands and staring at Han.

"The other friend, Pru, she is on scholarship there, and she is very shy at first, but very smart, and people tease her," she said, "so I like her a lot, because I was like, in a home, and things, so I know when people think you're kind of like, dirt, or scum," she explained.

"Hey, you're not scum," Han said, straightening up. "Don't say that."

"Well, I know, Dad, but people think that sometimes."

"You don't think that about you," Han said aggressively.

Vada blinked. She shifted back a little.

"I just said people," she murmured warily.

Leia turned in time to see Han look stricken.

"No'm – not yellin' – I'm not mad," he said.

Leia stepped forward and rubbed his arm gently, looking at Vada.

"He just doesn't want you to take other people's opinions to heart," she said. She glanced sideways at Han through her lashes. "And sometimes his tone is harsh," she added under her breath. "Because he cares, okay?"

Vada nodded. She tucked her hands into her lap.

"My mom taught me to not care what other people think," she said after a moment. "'Least, um, not care when its silly things they think, like who has the nicest skin colour or species."

Leia nodded.

"Your mom was right," she said.

Vada looked at Leia thoughtfully for a moment, and then perked up a little more.

"I was just saying I get along with Pru because we kind of feel the same-ish, maybe, around people who are…very rich."

Leia shrugged.

"You relate to her," she said. "That's what that's called," she explained.

Vada beamed.

"I relate to her," she repeated, lifting her chin proudly. "And the boy friend, he is Kitto. Dita said he gets kidnapped, or tried to be kidnapped, a lot, 'cause his family is rich."

"Boyfriend?" Han asked.

"No, boy friend," Vada corrected.

"What? That's what I said. That's what you said – what?" Han stammered.

Leia snorted.

"Boy," Vada said, holding up her hands, then paused, a long pause. "Friend," she finished. "He is a friend but he is a boy one, not a girl," she added. "Not like you are Leia's boyfriend."

Han cocked his head, frowning, and Leia grinned. For some reason, hearing Han referred to as her 'boyfriend' gave her a little thrill. It was youthful and carefree and seemed to leave all the weight of the war and the way they'd found each other out of it and make it just seem – happy and light. Which was, often, how Han made her feel.

"I am sorry," Vada said cautiously. "Is that not how you call each other?" she hesitated. "Is it the word for," she held up her hand, pointed to her ring finger, and frowned. "The word for when you have a ring, what is it?" she asked.

"Fiancée," Leia supplied immediately. Han turned to look at her abruptly, and she blushed, pursing her lips. "Fiancée means you're engaged – boyfriend is fine," she said. "But we just call each other Han and Leia," she quipped, tossing her head a little. "Han, is that sauce burning?"

He blinked a few times and, on her cue, went to check. He felt smaller, suddenly, his chest tight and constricted. There Vada went again, asking innocent questions that threw uncertainties in his relationship into sharp relief – and what did it mean that Leia so quickly offered the word? Had she sounded – excited?

Han swallowed hard, his heart thumping. He stirred the sauce.

"What do you know, it was about to burn," he muttered – but his voice was louder than he meant it to. "Looks like you're learnin' to cook, Leia," he drawled.

Then he winced – it sounded condescending. Didn't it? He twisted a little, peering over his shoulder. Leia was leaning against the counter, staring at him. She raised her eyebrows mildly, and smiled.

"Are you engaged?" Vada asked.

"No," Leia answered smoothly. She gave Han an unreadable look, and then whirled around to lean forward on the counter and talk to Vada some more. "You're scaring your father," she joked.

"Oh," Vada said, slouching back comfortably. "I can talk more about school. It was good the first day, but it was so even more good when other kids were nice, did not think I was weird," she said. "And no one tried to take my picture," she added.

She pursed her lips.

"When Dad dropped me off, he stood in front of me, when someone tried," she added. "It was nice."

"Well, he's so tall," Leia murmured. She scrunched her nose. "It's hard to get past him."

Vada nodded in agreement.

"I'm glad to hear you made some friends, and so fast, too," Leia murmured. "If you decide you don't like the art focus at the academy, we can always look for something else," she advised. "You're not stuck."

"Well, I think I am going to like it," Vada said with a blush. She paused, looking down. "I already made something I think is nice, and Dita helped me with some of the colour blending," she murmured.

She chewed on her lip for a moment.

"It is for you, if that is okay."

Leia tilted her head.

"Of course it is," she said. "May I see it?"

Vada still seemed hesitant.

"Okay, yes," she said slowly, straightening. She climbed down from her stool carefully and went to go get her backpack.

Leia watched her, and then spun around, sidling up to Han to peer around his elbow and look down at all the sizzling pans. She slid her palm over his hip and kissed his bicep through his shirt, resting her head against him affectionately for a moment. He instinctively shifted towards her.

"She likes you so much," Han said after a moment, a little on edge. "If it's too much – "

"It isn't too much," Leia said quietly. "She's a sweetheart, Han."

He grunted softly. He put down the utensil he was holding, and turned a little, touching her hand.

"Leia, 'm not scared," he started. "I – "

"She's a little girl, and I was joking," Leia murmured. "She likes you too, you know," she added. "You have to relax, talk to her more," she encouraged.

"I don't know – "

Vada came back in, carrying a thick, rolled canvas in her hands. She held it gingerly, waiting for Leia's attention, and then when she got it, stepped backed nervously.

"I do not want to make you sad, but my heart said draw this," she said in a small voice. "And Madam Losha, she said art is best when you do what you are told by your heart."

Leia arched her brows, uncertain.

"What do you mean, make me sad?" she asked.

Han turned away from the burners, stepping closer.

"Can I see it?" he asked warily.

Vada pursed her lips.

"Yes, I think," she decided primly. "Then you can decide if it is okay to give."

Han stepped closer and Vada handed him, the canvas. He unrolled it, and considered it for a moment. He glanced at his daughter over the neatly done art, and tilted his head, smiling a little. He gave a small nod. He didn't think it would make Leia sad in a negative way. She would probably think it was nice. Folding her arms, Leia watched the exchange uncertainly, and then watched as Han handed the canvas back to Vada, and Vada turned it and presented it to her.

She recognized Alderaan immediately. There, suspended in an inky, starry galactic sky, was a representation of her home, glittering and peaceful and whole. She reached out to take the edge, and then knelt down so she was level with Vada, examining it.

"You drew this?" she asked quietly.

It was glittery and eye-catching and bright, and done very well. Vada nodded, flushing.

"Um, I," she began. "I just wanted to make something for you, so that you are not feeling…left out?" she said uncertainly. "Because I am here now, in your house."

She took a deep breath.

"But I am sorry if it makes you sad," she said hastily.

"It doesn't," Leia said gently, lifting her eyes from the drawing. It did, but the loss of Alderaan always made her sad – this was like looking at a memory, a peaceful way to think of the world that no longer existed.

Still, her eyes stung. It was just such a simple, beautiful thought, for Vada to want to give Leia something, and worry that it was going to make her sad. And she really, truly hoped that she wasn't doing anything to make Vada think she wasn't welcome – her statement worried her.

Leia took a deep breath.

"Would it be okay if I hung this up in my office at work?" she asked.

Vada crossed her arms across herself. She nodded.

"It did not make you sad?" she pressed worriedly.

Leia thought about it. She looked down at the drawing.

"Well," she began. "I'm always sad about Alderaan," she said softly.

Why was it so easy to be honest with a child, and so hard to be honest with herself? Strangely enough, the drawing did make her sad, but it didn't make her feel like crying, or like forgetting. It made her feel like remembering the good, and maybe that was because it was as simple as a seven-year-old thinking a pretty picture of her home world would be nice. It was so innocent, so kind.

Han stood off to the side of them, watching warily, and Leia felt a bit of guilt swiping at her heart. He was the one who needed to spend more time bonding with her. Was she in the way of that?

Was she always going to be in the way now?

"I am going to draw Corellia, too," Vada said, turning her head up to Han. "But, with different oils. What is your favorite place on Corellia?"

The question appeared to take him off guard, but rather than staring dumbly, he was startled into answering immediately.

"Cax Avenue City."

Vada perked up.

"Where the carnival always is!" she said.

Han nodded. He'd never been able to afford anything there, but he'd stolen plenty when he was a kid. His mother had taken him once, for his birthday, right before she died. He barely remembered it, but he knew it had taken her months and months of saving money.

"Mommy used to take me sometimes," Vada said pleasantly. "I will draw you Cax Avenue City, then," she amended. "So no one is left out," she added sternly.

The food on the stove popped and sizzled; the apartment doorbell rang. Leia looked over, cocking her head.

"S'at Luke?" Han grunted. "He's kinda late," he added, snorting. "I told him – "

"It isn't Luke," said Leia, sensing no familiar presence. She crinkled her brow. "Besides, I gave him our access code, and the door is set 'open to code' right now. He would just come in."

She stood up, but Han frowned.

"I'll get it," he said. He pointed to the stove. "Turn that down to simmer," he said, "and poke at the meat with a fork, if it juices up a little it's good to go."

"I don't know if I can handle it," Leia said, deadpan.

Han blinked, then grinned, and shook his head, turning on his heel to head to the door.

Vada followed Leia over to the stove, and Leia neatly put aside the canvas so it wouldn't be damaged and checked on the food. Vada stood on her toes and watched.

"What should I be calling Mr. Skywalker, Leia?" Vada asked. "I do not want to make him nervous like you or my Dad, with calling him things," she said.

"Just Luke," Leia answered. "Luke is – "

"Leia."

Han interrupted sharply. She turned, surprised at his curt tone. She met his eyes, and he looked strained, stiff, and uncomfortable, his shoulders set back tensely as if he was ready for an attack. Leia took a step back from the stove, her lips pursed – she mouthed a silent question at him, and he jerked his head a little.

"Um," Leia uttered, uncertain. She clicked her tongue. "Vada," she said brightly. "Could you," she paused, and looked around, keying in on the counter. "If I sit you up here on the counter, can you just stare at this food and make sure it doesn't…burn?" she asked.

Vada looked warily between Han and Leia, but nodded. Han strode forward, picked Vada up so Leia wouldn't have to, and perched her easily on the counter. He adjusted the controls, his jaw twitching tensely, and grunted, beckoning Leia into the hall. She felt Vada's eyes on them – and sitting there on the counter, Vada's shoulders slumped as she thought, more whispering.

She began to tap her feet pointedly against the drawers below her, so she'd drown them out – they wouldn't think she was eavesdropping.

Han pulled Leia just out into the hall, and stopped her abruptly, standing close.

"What?" she asked, alarmed.

She tilted her head up to him, and his expression was dark and uncertain.

"There's a lawyer here," he said tightly. "Or somethin'."

"Or something," Leia repeated, for lack of anything else to say.

She blinked, and crossed her arms, glancing down the hall.

"Did you let – "

"No, I told 'er to stay outside," Han said shortly. "She says she represents the Vardalos clan."

Leia's expression did not change. She said nothing. Both of them listened to the steady tap of Vada's feet against the cabinets.

"Did this individual say what she wanted?" Leia asked finally.

Irritation rose in her at the prospect of yet another stranger showing up unannounced at her door. Social services, now this – what right did these people have, and why? Could they not make appointments, go through proper channels? Her lips tightened into a thin line.

"Uh, she said she had a notice to serve me," Han retorted testily.

Leia grunted quietly.

"You didn't take it?"

"No."

She nodded, tilting her head back. She looked down the hall to the door, her nose pinching thinly. She had little doubt concerning what this was about – she just had trouble wrapping her head around the fact that these people who had washed their hands of Vada once would suddenly reemerge into her life. What was the motivation? What was the damn point?

"Good," she said to Han. "Go back into the kitchen and don't let Vada know anything is wrong."

"Isn't that lying to her?" Han asked hesitantly.

"No," Leia said flatly. "Nothing is wrong right now. I don't know what this is about, but make her feel safe, okay?" she instructed.

Han took a deep breath, and nodded. He looked over at the door one more time.

"What're you going to do?" he asked.

"I am going to tell this 'something' that she can work through proper channels or she can go fuck herself. I am tired of people showing up without invitation at my door."

Han blinked, taken aback. He swallowed hard.

"Er," he began, brows raised. "Okay, Sweetheart."

He stood there a moment, and then when she twitched her eyes pointedly back towards the kitchen, he jolted, and went back in there. She listened until she heard Vada's feet stop, and heard Vada say something, and then she went down the hall, and re-opened the door.

She opened it boldly, and widely, drawing herself up so that despite her small stature, she would take up the whole space and make it clear there would be no invitation inside. The woman on the threshold was tall and sleek, with brown eyes, and brown hair braided tightly to her head into pristine, decorative designs. She wore a high-necked leather blouse and similar trousers, and held a thin, metallic data envelope under her arm.

She appraised Leia with very little emotion.

"Ambassador Organa," she began coolly. "I am sorry to disrupt your evening. I am required to serve Han Solo with a notice from Madam Vaella – "

Leia held up her hand.

"You may direct any communication you have with Han Solo through his office at military headquarters," she said firmly.

The woman paused.

"This regards the child, Vada Vardalos, and is pursuant to her mother – "

"Then you may direct any communications you have with Han Solo through his office at military headquarters or, in the case of his daughter, through Corellian Social Services at the Embassy," she repeated.

The woman gave her a tight-lipped smile.

"It is within the purview of the courts to serve when and wherever – "

"A provision generally followed when the person in question is impossible to track down. By contrast, Han Solo is rather predictable these days, and an ambush at his residence is inappropriate. You may direct – "

"Yes," the woman interrupted this time, smiling coldly. "I understand."

She paused, and Leia said nothing. She waited for the woman to leave, and after a moment, she took a step back, patting the data envelope delicately.

"I daresay what I have here will make your life easier, Your Highness," she said. "You cannot possibly have an interest in raising a common man's bastard."

Leia blinked sharply, said nothing, in in a swift, barely controlled reaction of rage, stepped back and allowed the door to slam closed. If she had thought about it a moment longer, she might have been calmer, less quick to react – and she had reacted more to the insult to Han than anything. She was sensitive to it. She hated, hated – hated when people disparaged him.

He was better than most of the men she'd ever known, and she took digs at him personally in a violent sort of way.

For a long, tense moment she stood staring at that door, her jaw tight, envisioning the secondary chaos that was likely to come of this - the disruption, the uncertainty, added to what was already a cacophony of insecurities.

She grit her teeth, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and steeled herself to go back into the kitchen. She'd make a call to those social workers immediately after Vada was asleep, but for now, this ought to be brushed off – an evening enjoyed with Luke, with Vada riding the high of making new friends –

She nearly ran into Han as she reentered the kitchen, and he searched her face earnestly. She compressed her lips, and the look in her eyes told him he needn't worry right now. Almost desperately, he seized her arm and kissed her hard on the forehead, his lips lingering – thank you, they said, thank you.

Leia was the one who convened a meeting with social services immediately, the very next day, but Han didn't need any convincing to know that was the right thing to do. He wanted to know what the hell was going on – and he wanted to know now.

He'd done his best to follow Leia's suggestion and not let on to Vada that something was 'wrong,' but he assumed she was too smart for that. If she was anything like him – and he'd noticed, in the past few days that she was, in fact, like him in many ways – then she'd sharpened her intuitive skills the minute she'd been abandoned to the dregs of an orphanage on Corellia. No matter how young she was, it was unlikely they were pulling any fast ones on her.

This morning, when Han had dropped her off at her academy – something he was growing used to doing, after three days, yet something that still seemed surreal and unbelievable – she had seemed a little edgy around him, a little suspicious.

And he found that he didn't like it. He didn't like the idea that she'd decided maybe he couldn't be trusted.

He – he wanted to be trusted. He was doing his best to get used to this and he was finding that he didn't want Vada to think badly of him, and for reasons other than just because he didn't want to look bad in Leia's eyes.

They met this time in a pristine, clerical office within one of the many buildings on compound of the Corellian Embassy. Han spotted a few Media beings snapping holos of them as they walked in. Leia didn't react, so he didn't, either – and sitting across an intimate conference table from the two Corellian social workers once again, Han was struck with an overwhelming frustration with them.

He was about damn sick of seeing them, and this was only the beginning. They had several more weeks of interviews, evaluations – at least; they were supposed to have that.

In the center of the table sat the thin, ominous data envelope the lawyer had held last night. Per Leia's instructions, the thing had been delivered to the proper authorities at social services this morning – express drop off.

Leia leaned forward and tapped her finger crisply on the document.

"Have you reviewed this?" she asked.

Efema Zune nodded, her lips pressed together in a tight line.

"What is it?" Leia asked coldly. "And why did a Vardalos lawyer think it was at all appropriate to show up unannounced at our apartment?"

"Ambush, I suspect," Callum Kant said dryly. "To gain an upper hand."

Leia leaned back, her expression unchanging. She could have figured that out herself – and she let the comment hang, because it was exactly the tactic the social workers themselves had used, and she wanted the ice in her expression, and her silence, to remind them of that.

It was Zune who cleared her throat softly, flushed a little, and reached for the data envelop. She illuminated it, keyed up the projection of its contents, and slid it forward towards Han, pursing her lips.

"It's a custody challenge," she said simply. "Vaella Vardalos is laying claim to Vada."

Han ignored the document. He didn't look at it, and didn't reach for it; he stared at Zune blankly. Leia looked over at him to see if he was in stunned silence, or if he had a game plan, and decided after a moment that he was playing a game, and she said nothing. She let him be.

He stared in silence until Zune got uncomfortable and leaned back, and then he jolted forward just slightly, and said, very stiffly:

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Leia winced. She bit the inside of her lip, but she didn't say anything to protest the language.

Zune blinked, taken aback. She cleared her throat again.

"Well, ah, a custody challenge – "

"'M not askin' for a damn definition," Han interrupted pointedly – and he was fairly sure she knew that, and he wasn't going to let her get away with hemming, and hawing, and hedging around the subject. "Why the fuck is that old bitch stickin' her nose around all of a sudden?"

Leia frowned slightly, and glanced over at Kant to see him watching Han with a mixture of alarm, distaste and – admiration? She wanted to be surprised, but Han had that effect on a lot of people. He was unrefined in so many ways, but reliable, honorable, and obviously possessed of incredible freedom in his own actions – people loved and hated him for it, in mixtures of jealousy and awe.

"General Solo," Zune began. "Please try not to get too upset. We are going to level with you on everything we know. Even if Princess Leia hadn't contacted us last night, we were planning on speaking with you – "

"You can't fuck around with me with stuff like this," Han interrupted angrily.

This time, Leia did reach over and lay a hand on his wrist firmly.

"Han, stop saying 'fuck,'" she ordered calmly.

His arm twitched away from her.

"I'll say whatever I want to say, Leia," he snapped unexpectedly, though he didn't look at her, and she didn't think the rage was directed at her.

She drew her hand back and let it sit in her lap, her lips compressing stonily. She was not about to react and have an argument in front of strangers, but his tone irked her. A split second later, she noticed Han's shoulders slip downwards as he realized he'd been too harsh, and he turned his head.

"Hey," he started.

She just gave a small shake of her head – not here, Han – and fixed her eyes on the social workers.

"Did you know about this prior to me contacting you last night?" she asked.

"We had no concrete information," Kant said, after Zune appeared too hesitant to answer. "When we briefly spoke about the Vardaloses at your apartment last week, and had a meeting with a representative the next day, there was no discussion of custody. The individual just wanted to know what Vada's current situation was. The act of actually filing for a custody challenge was done outside our channels," he explained.

Han jolted forward. He was twice as on edge now – concerned about what this meant, and furious with himself over disrespecting Leia the way he had just now, and in front of others to boot. He grit his teeth, trying to remain as calm as he could.

"I don't get it," he snapped gruffly. "How's there a custody challenge?" He demanded, turning his hand inward and pointing roughly at his chest. "I don't have custody, do I? Officially? 'M still bein' evaluated," he said sarcastically.

Leia took a deep breath, and backed him up.

"Yes, I'm uncertain as to how this works as well," she said curtly. "By law, Han is Vada's designated caretaker and – from what you told us – will have sole, binding custody when he's found fit."

She said when, not if. She had no doubts about Han's character in that regard, and she was sure – now – that whether he had fully realized it or not, he wanted to be found fit, and he was in this for good.

"That's right," Zune said. "Han is the first line custodial parent – he would have been immediately upon Visenya's death, if he'd been in a stable position and not under several bounties for theft and smuggling – "

"Running contracts for a liberal revolution," Leia corrected pointedly.

Zune just nodded, before going on.

"Blood relatives still have a claim, and it is technically easier to fight to have Vada's evaluation reassigned to the Vardalos and her permanent home be established with them, than to wait until Han is found fit, and re-initiate another hearing when Han's parental rights are more secure."

Leia folded her arms tensely.

"You're suggesting they might be doing it this way so that Han never gets custody at all," she simplified. "They'd remove Vada from evaluation with him, switch that to themselves, and Han is – what? Where does that leave him?"

"Hang on," Han burst out. "It doesn't leave me anywhere, 'cause – we're not doing this," he said, glancing at Leia uncertainly. "Are – I mean, what do you mean? You're going to let them take – "

Blinking, eyes wide, Leia shook her head, startled.

"No, Han, that's not what I'm saying," she murmured softly. "No," she said emphatically, turning her eyes firmly on the social workers. "We don't want Vada taken from us," she declared.

Han leaned forward again, shoving the tip of his finger into the tabletop pointedly.

"This ain't right," he growled. "You told me they paid a fine not to take her," he said. "You said these people – Visenya's family," he spat the word sourly, "refused to take her in. She was five years old and her mom had just died and they let her go to a home, so what the fuck's changed?"

He turned, shaking his head apologetically at Leia.

"Sorry," he said in a clipped tone. "'M makin' a point – it's a good word for makin' a point."

"By all means," Leia murmured tightly.

Zune sighed.

"Guilt, remorse," she said. "I don't know. The family lawyers are tight-lipped and unemotional, and I can't really say what's motivating this action. I also, if I may be frank for a moment, understand your anger, General Solo."

He leaned back hard and slumped in the chair.

"Han," he corrected under his breath. "Stop callin' me 'general,' I ain't at work here."

She nodded.

Leia pursed her lips, lifting her chin.

"You can't possibly entertain such a challenge, though," she stated skeptically. "Surely Corellia has laws that prohibit a person who has once refused legal responsibility of a child from obtaining custody later on to, ah, soothe a guilty conscious," she said, her lips turning down in a grimace.

Kant shook his head.

"Well, no, if that were the case then parents who lost custody would never be able to right themselves and earn back – "

"That's not the case," Leia interrupted sharply. "This isn't a drug-addicted mother who went through a sobering experience and overcame a problem to earn back trust and parental rights. This is a family that had incredible means and an active choice and their choices resulted in Vada being placed in an orphanage."

She snapped her eyes from one social worker to the other.

"You can't possibly tell me Vaella Vardalos has a right to change her mind."

Zune hesitated. Kant lifted his shoulders.

"Unfortunately, she does," he said.

"Corellia is," Zune began delicately, "very, very keen on self-improvement and reform and – "

"Honor," Han spoke up in a hollow, dull tone. "Honor," he said again.

He shook his head – so much of what he loved about his culture, he was angry at now. The Corellian honor codes were not based on the usual arbitrary morality laws; they were nuanced, forgiving, bold, and deeply situational. Despite his actions and the sins he committed, Han had been awarded bloodstripes in two orders by his home world, and they were based on the fact that despite anything less savory he'd done, other actions of his had been moral and brave – Corellians saw honor as complicated.

And they saw pursuit of honor, especially to rectify a dishonorable act or life, as one of the worthiest causes.

"Yes," Zune said grimly. "From a legal standpoint, anyone can submit a custody challenge across the board," she noted. "A judge could easily dismiss, of course, but this," she tapped the document, "will not be dismissed. Vaella is Vada's blood relative, and if the Vardalos family has seen error and wants to make amends, that will be duly considered."

Han reached up and rubbed his jaw.

"So, what's this mean?" he asked tersely. "What's this mean for us? I – we – this just started sinkin' in," he said, his jaw tightening, "and now you're saying someone's gonna come in and try take Vada away from me."

He paused only for a second, and then went on:

"She's denied Vada already," he reiterated. "And I don't think Vada likes her, anyway, I know Senny didn't like her family - they disowned her!" he pointed out. "Vada's not going to want this."

He said it confidently, and he was pretty sure it was true. Vada seemed – happy, with himself and Leia.

"The age of input on Corellia is ten," Zune said gently. "Vada won't have a choice."

"That ain't fair," Han snapped, slapping his hand on the table. "She's smart, she's like a little grown up, but she can't have a say in where she goes? How's that work?"

"She's seven, Han," Kant said. "She's not a grown up."

Han rolled his eyes, his teeth gnashing.

"I know she's – yeah, I know," he barked. "But seven doesn't mean stupid. You think she doesn't know her own grandmother sent her to a home? You'd let some court decide to send her to people who did that?"

"The courts will hold hearings on the custody challenge and consider the welfare of the child to be paramount – "

"A home, they sent her to a home!" Han burst out angrily. His eyes flashed – his heart raced, and he was struck with a barrage of memories of his own time in the home. He thought of the cigar burns on Vada's arms and the terrible conversation he'd asked Leia to have with her. "I don't give a damn if they're tryin' to make amends or if they feel bad, she ain't ever gonna get over that! Over what could have happened to her in a place like that!"

He shook his head violently, standing up.

"No," he said flatly, his voice rising. He was driven, suddenly, but something more instinctive than the overwhelming hesitance he'd been feeling since this whole thing began. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, trying to adjust to the idea of being a father, trying to actually be a father, but he knew on a primal level that Vada was his flesh and blood, and she wasn't going anywhere. "They ain't takin' her," he said firmly.

His chest felt tight, and in the back of his mind, a needling voice cajoled him about Leia – how did she feel about this? Here he was, protective, possessive, making grand declarations, about a thing that was affecting and irrevocably changing Leia's life, too – what about Leia, what about Vada? It was all so entangled.

"Vada's my kid," Han said aggressively. "She's mine."

"Han," Zune was saying, straightening up and raising her hands. "Han – Han, I personally agree with you. I don't like these actions, and I don't know what their motives are – but there is a chance that guilt is driving them, with all the attention Vada has gotten in the Media – "

Leia scoffed thinly.

"I find that doubtful," she said icily.

"I am at a loss to see what else their motive could possible be," Zune said desperately. "I mean, she's just a child – "

"And the Vardalos clan is a frightfully wealthy, deeply political family that oversaw the construction of most of the grand Imperial fleet," Leia noted quietly. "Their patriarch was a ship building magnate for the most oppressive form of tyranny this galaxy has ever seen and they lost trillions after the fall of the Empire," she pointed out.

Leaning forward, she sneered:

"Their motivation may be that they don't want the little brat princess who brought their world crashing down on them raising their granddaughter. They'd rather try to rectify what they see as their 'mistakes' with her mother."

Han folded his arms, still standing – listening hard. Leia's view of the whole thing sounded so shuddering, so sinister.

"Bitter losses and the desire for revenge is a powerful motivator, Efema," Leia said sharply. "Some people just can't resist."

"You think they would use their granddaughter to play political games with you?" Kant asked incredulously. "You? This is more about Han, he's her father - "

"Han lead the military operation that obliterated the central power command of the Empire," Leia pointed out coldly. "Han is as much a political hero and a symbol of a free galaxy as I am, regardless of his unwillingness to believe it."

Han blinked at her, tilting his head curiously. Leia only paused for a moment.

"Like you, I don't know what Vaella and her…clan's motivation for this action is," she said. "I don't particularly care. Han's right: it would be unconscionable for Vada to be handed off to these people. So," Leia said curtly, leaning back, folding her arms. "Han, sit back down," she ordered.

He shuffled a moment, tense, and then did, slowly, and she gave Zune and Kant one of her piercing, bold glares.

"Tell us what will happen going forward," Leia said, and nodded sharply at the document that still loomed in front of them, "and what will come of this."

Zune licked her lips, and Kant sat forward, spreading his hands out to aid in his answer.

"The Corellian courts will determine if the Vardalos custody challenge is legitimate. That will be a mere formality – it will be. Hearings will be scheduled to determine whether Vaella has a better hearth and home to offer Vada, and those will comprise of family court sessions that cross-examine the people involved. If it is determined that Vaella is the better choice, Vada will go to her, and she will complete the evaluative process. If Han is found to be the better choice, she will stay where she is and we will continue what we're already doing."

He hesitated briefly.

"Look, as – unsavory as this is, the bright side I can offer is that if Han's found to be the better custody choice, it will significantly reduce the pervasiveness of our evaluative process," he offered. "Because when the time comes to submit all of our stuff for review, the packet will include a judge already ordering Vada to stay with Han vice anyone else."

"And in the interim, while this is taking place," Leia asked. "Vada stays with us?"

Zune nodded.

"Yes, she won't be uprooted. And we know she's well taken care of with you, so we would recommend that even if it's suggested she be moved to a neutral location," she said.

Han, staring at them, was back to silence, back to watching and saying nothing. He grunted, half to himself, and Zune spoke again, more delicately, as she turned to focus on Leia.

"I do need to warn you that Corellian courts may ask you to strictly define your role in Vada's life," she said, "and may subject you to stricter examination, particularly if Vaella is making a two-parent home argument for herself."

Leia blinked coldly, but did not immediately respond. Han's heart sank in his chest, and guilt burst through him roughly, tormenting him over what he'd inadvertently gotten Leia into. Wasn't it enough that she was in this limbo sort of role in the first place – now what, they'd ask her to – adopt Vada? Something radical such as that?

Finally, Leia spoke up.

"Does Corellia generally prefer two-parent homes?" she asked.

Kant shrugged.

"It's taken into consideration, but not overwhelmingly so," he said honestly. "As it stands, Vada was placed with Han, and you happen to live with him. Sans any legal commitments between the two of you, though, that's not a two-parent home. Things would have to be different if you wanted to also argue that's what she has."

Leia sniffed. She crossed her legs, and fell silent again. In the silence, Han leaned forward, rubbing his hands over his face. He looked up, his jaw drawn tight and grim.

"Visenya left me a note," he said gruffly. "She wanted me to take care of Vada. Me," he pointed to himself, thinking of the simple words – please care about her. "Doesn't that make any difference? What Vada's mother wanted?"

"Of course," Zune said softly. "It will work in your favor. Bring it up. Use it," she encouraged. She paused. "Can I offer an opinion?" she asked.

Han waved his hand tensely. He didn't care either way and so, after a moment, Zune went on:

"I don't think the Vardalos custody bid is going to fly," Zune said frankly. "I've told you before I do not think you'll be found unfit. This is a hiccup in the process of getting us," she gestured to herself and Kant, "out of your lives, which I am sure you are both eager for," she said dryly. "And after all of the logistics and bureaucracy is done, then Vada can really thrive. Really settle in. With you."

She turned, and nodded politely to Leia.

"And you as well, Your Highness."

Leia pursed her lips in acknowledgement, but said nothing. All of this, all of this, seemed to indicate that she and Han needed to sit down and hash out a real conversation about everything. It needed to define roles, discuss what they were doing with their lives, with each other, in general and in terms of Vada. Such a thing might seem forced, inorganic, and not in line with the leisurely relationship that'd been relishing letting fall into place, but Sith, it sure as hell needed to happen.

She just could not bear the idea of losing him, and tensions were just going to run so high –

"What'm I s'pose to tell my daughter about this?" Han asked abruptly.

His tone was searing, and Leia noted the way he spoke possessively, instead of using just Vada's name. He took ownership of her – in the sense of responsibility, and connection, not in any sinister or abusive way.

"Whatever you think is best, Han," Kant answered firmly.

Leia looked over at him, and he was frowning, consternated, and silent again. When he sensed her gaze, he turned to look at her, searching for answers. He was supposed to know what was best for her, to decide that – he was her father. But he barely knew her. He barely knew what he was doing – and now they were going to challenge him on that even more.

Every day, Vada had found a moment to write something in the journal she kept. Whether it was just a little note, a longer musing, or a quick sketch - she was diligent about this. She wanted something to look back on, and she thought it helped her organize her thoughts. She always addressed her entries to her mother, though she could never decide if she believed her mother was out there in some sort of afterlife watching her, or if all of that was nonsense. The cynical part of her - which was much larger, since her mother's death, and the home, and all the chaos in between - assumed that if there was a nice heaven from which the dead watched, her mother was probably too absorbed in fancy clothes and seeking attention from others to bore herself watching Vada trudge along in the living galaxy.

Yet writing to her mother made her feel like she wasn't forgetting. And even as frank as Vada could be about Visenya's salutary neglect, she had still been her Mommy, and she missed her. It ebbed and flowed and came in waves and it was at peak, now, when the hushed whispers were still going on, and Vada was growing wary of her environment. Growing wary of it, just on the cusp of when she'd almost started to accept it was going to be safe.

She tried to understand that she was very young, and sometimes, people didn't talk to her about things because they weren't about her, or weren't any of her business. And maybe that was the case here. But something felt sinister; something felt off. And there were other weird things, too - Han had hugged her when he picked her up from her Academy. It was a very awkward hug, and Vada had given him a funny look, desperate to ask him how he managed to still have a girlfriend if he hugged that badly, but it had still been a tight, full hug - that he initiated, which he hadn't really done before. He had never recoiled when she gave him a hug, or touched his hand or something, but she could tell he was unsure what to do with her childish affection.

He probably thought, in his head, he was making progress - but it just made her nervous. Scared her. What was the point of a sudden, random hug from him - an apology? A warning?

Vada frowned, and tapped the stylus in her hand against her mouth, scratching words into her digital document. She didn't think she really had any reason to believe something really bad was about to happen, but she couldn't help that she felt like it. Han and Leia both seemed a little tense, but no one was being mean or cold to her. They probably just didn't expect her to be so perceptive. Her mother used to be surprised by that. Visenya would look at her archly, snort, and say, mysteriously, 'You shoulnd't even know that' without explaining anything. Vada had sharpened her intuition even more in the home, when it became obvious to her that to survive, she'd have to sense when people could be trusted, and when they could not be - if she could take her eyes off someone, or if she couldn't.

She wasn't perfect at it. She was still a victim of her own desire to be loved and to think the world was nicer than she'd seen it be, but she tried to be shrewd, and she was halfway talented in the art of listening to her gut.

Right now, her gut was nervous, and she didn't know how to voice it. So, she wrote to her mother, telling her about her day, telling her idle, silly things, like what colour dress Princess Leia had worn this morning, and how Han - Dad - wore really frayed vests even though he apparently had plenty of money now to buy some new ones.

Did he wear vests when you met him? She wrote. I know you can't answer, but I was wondering.

Here, she wrote strictly in Corellian, it was the only place where she did not see a need to practice her Basic, and she could cocoon herself in her native language.

I am getting much better at Basic, though, Mommy. I don't mess up word order as much anymore. But also, I want to learn Alderaanian, I think.

She had decided that because so many of the other kids at her Academy spoke multiple languages, or were taking them as their electives. It made sense, for kids on Coruscant from big, wealthy families. One couldn't always subsist on only knowing their mother tongue, and Basic. And, since her friend Dita was from a family of Alderaanians - or half of one - and there weren't many left, and Princess Leia was one, Vada decided it would be a nice, earnest gesture to learn that language, or try to. She hoped Leia wouldn't mind the idea - because come to think of it -

I've never actually heard Leia say anything in Alderaanian, she wrote, frowning to herself. Maybe she forgot it, since it has been so long? Vada crinkled her nose doubtfully. She didn't think people forgot their native language, not when they were Leia's age. Maybe she doesn't have anyone to talk to in it, Vada wrote, changing her mind. I think if I learn it, she can be more comfortable with me here.

Vada sat back, staring at her messy words. She needed to write with more elegance, her instructors told her that. They said she wouldn't always have nice neat keypads available, and skill with a stylus was valuable. That was a little frustrating, though she just nodded, and tried harder - skill with a stylus was only valuable to people who had time to get skills with a stylus, which she hadn't had the privilege or opportunity for until now.

She was sitting in the middle of her bed - or the guest bed. she wasn't really sure what to call it - with her legs crossed, and her datapad set out in front of her. When she thought of something to write, she'd lean forward and scribble it down, flexible enough to do so, and then pop back up and look around, thinking, contemplating. She hadn't gotten into the 'fresher yet, which she usually did sometime after dinner. She loved being able to have a 'fresher whenever she wanted. Of all the things, it was probably the best luxury. She'd forgotten how cozy it felt to be squeaky clean all the time, and she'd never forget how kind Leia had been the first time she helped her with her hair, noticed she had head lice, and didn't think it was a problem at all. She'd just bought her some special shampoo and picked them all out and then told her a story about how all the soldiers during the Rebellion had head lice, too, and it didn't matter one bit.

She also often went to the 'fresher after dinner because it sort of alleviated the awkwardness of wondering what else she was supposed to do. She didn't know what Han and Leia usually did after work when they hadn't had her around. She didn't want to intrude on their time, and she didn't know exactly how to interact with them casually, if they weren't all having a direct conversation. Should she just sit and watch the Holo, play games, hang out with them? Half the time, she tried to remember how she'd interacted with her mother, but that had been fluid and natural, and none of this was. Yet.

She wanted it to be. She was hoping it was starting to be - but then, she wasn't so sure. There was the whispers, and there was that last night, both her dad and Leia had been up and moving around a lot, instead of sleeping. She was positive someone had been in the kitchen, and then the shower had run - or a bath - very very late, and because she'd been woken up by the unusual restlessness, and she'd listened hard, quiet as she could be, she thought she'd heard someone crying.

And even though she'd seen boys cry in the home, and she knew grown up men must cry, too, it really hadn't sounded like it was a man. Thus, all day, Vada had been vaguely sure Princess Leia had been awake and crying last night, and she had no idea why that would be - and pessimism bid her to believe it was about her.

Things had been too rosy, too quickly, probably - or at least, calm and nice. The novelty Vada brought might be wearing off. She knew she - kids - were hard to take care of. She'd sensed that when the few times her mother had sighed, frustrated, about something she needed, and she'd known it, when Visenya was sick, and making amends, and she'd said I'm so sorry I'm bad at this, Viddy, I never knew it would be so hard.

Maybe Leia and Han were deciding it was going to be too hard.

Vada leaned forward again, biting her lip.

I don't think I am that much harder to take care of than a pet, it's the same thing. Just feed me, and keep me safe, all that, she wrote logically. I am not even wild or trouble like some kids, I try to be good, and I have tried harder, here. I think Dad is really nice, Mommy. He is. But I wish you had told him I was alive.

She leaned back again, sighing. That would make everything less shocking and weird, no doubt. She wished she could tell Han some more of what had been in her mother's head, but she didn't really know. Even when Visenya had sat her down to point out the new name on the birth certificate, and to tell her who her father was, and that she hoped he might be able to take care of her one day, she hadn't really wanted to talk about him. She'd just said he was an honorable person, very smart, and that he'd never had money, which meant he wasn't entitled. That was the word she said, entitled. Vada chewed on her cheek - well, he did have money now. So maybe her mother had been wrong, or maybe he had changed.

She chewed on the edge of her stylus, this time picking up the datapad and drawing up her knees to use them as a table. She pressed it against her legs, steadying herself. She tentatively pressed the tip to the digital document again, and then wrote some more.

Leia is nice, too. She is scary sometimes when she's at work, but not when she is here. At least not on purpose. She just always seems tall even though she's short. I think you would like her, maybe. I think you would be okay with her looking after me, so I hope it's okay that I want to be liked by her and that I would be okay if she was my step-mom. But she and Dad aren't married. But they seem like married people.

She heard a noise in the hallway, and looked up in time to see Han walk by the doorway casually. She squinted, and he walked back again, glancing in at her. She straightened up a little, and then Han peered back into the room hesitantly, and she tried not to laugh. He looked silly, poking his nose in like that.

"Dad?" she asked.

He did that thing he always did when she called him that - even though he'd asked her to call him that, and kept saying it was okay - he blinked a little abruptly, and then looked taken aback, and then got over it, and nodded.

"Yeah?"

Vada didn't say anything, she just stared at him. He was the one who had been looking for her, hadn't he? She tilted her head, and he cleared his throat gruffly, stepping into the doorway a little.

"Uh," he started. "Leia wanted me to check on you," he said.

Vada straightened up a little, worried.

"She did?" she asked, clutching her stylus nervously. "I was in here. I was not doing anything."

Han blinked.

"Hang on, she wasn't - you're not in trouble," he said, shaking his head. He reached up to scratch his jaw. "S'just, she pointed out you usually go hop in the 'fresher, and we didn't hear any water runnin'," he parroted. "I was thinkin' about it, too," he added hastily. "Not just her. You okay?"

Vada twitched a little, wondering if she should get up.

"Um," she started. "I am sorry - do you want me to go take a 'fresher? Should I always?" she paused, and then asked, almost hopefully, "is that a rule?"

Her mother had always had very loose rules for her. Other than major ones, like never, ever talk to strangers, or go with strangers, she'd been lenient. And the home had been a free-for-all, mostly. But Vada knew kids in good, regular places had rules, and she thought rules might be nice - and a good sign.

Han laughed, almost nervously.

"No," he snorted. "You don't have to take a 'fresher if you don't want to," he said. Then he paused. "Uhh, unless you're dirty," he added, frowning to himself - was he supposed to tell her she needed to bathe a certain amount? Was it even appropriate for him to discuss bathing with a seven-year-old girl? He frowned deeper, looking at her warily. "How about you just make sure you take a 'fresher," he waved his hand, "at least every other day?"

Vada smirked.

"Okay," she said smugly. She paused, looking down. "I was, um, going to, tonight," she said. "I got distracted. I did not mean to...make anyone worried."

Han slid a hand into his pocket. He shrugged.

"S'okay," he muttered. He hesitated, and Vada thought he seemed uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and nodded at her. "Whatcha writing?" he asked awkwardly.

Vada curled the datapad to her chest a little nervously.

"Um," she uttered softly. "It is, a...like, a," she blushed. She said the word in Corellian. "Diary."

"Oh," Han said, nodding. "Okay. Private stuff. I get it."

Vada nodded blushing.

"It makes my head be clear," she said.

Han was quiet for a moment.

"Yeah, uh, Leia does stuff like that," he said gruffly.

"She has a diary?" Vada asked excitedly.

"I dunno if it's a diary," Han said slowly. "Think it's work stuff," he grunted. He was pretty sure some of the best policy Leia had ever written had come out of her after midnight, when she was stressed out or upset. "It takes her mind off things."

Vada still beamed. Han cleared his throat again, shifting his feet. Leia was always saying he needed to talk to Vada more, bond with her - he didn't know why he found it so hard. He just felt like he was invading her space, most of the time. She seemed to get along more fluidly with Leia, anyway. Leia had a more natural disposition with children, which didn't really make sense, from a logical standpoint. It wasn't as if she had them herself.

"Hey," Han started cautiously. "You, uh, gonna ask Leia to fix your hair after your 'fresher?" he asked.

Vada lifted her shoulders.

"If that is okay," she said. "Like usual. If she is not tired of it."

Han shook his head, brow furrowing.

"She's not," he said, continuing rather quickly: "Good, 'cause me'n'Leia wanna talk to you about somethin,'" he said, "but it's not bad," he finished quickly.

Vada looked at him warily. She clutched her datapad tighter, and just gave a tiny little nod. Talking about something sounded ominous. Or maybe it was a good thing.

"I will have a 'fresher after I finish my writing," she said quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," Han assured her hurriedly. "It's not a big deal," he said lamely.

Vada studied his face. He didn't seem hostile or angry. He seemed a little lost, but that was how he always looked around her. The good thing was, he'd stopped looking so shifty and suspicious all the time, like he was an animal caught in a trap. When she didn't say anything else, he nodded in a jerky way, and started to back away, leaving her to herself. Vada wasn't sure why she called him back, but she suddenly blurted it out, maybe because she was trying to get a feel for what was coming -

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" he asked immediately, stepping back into the doorway.

She brightened a little. Way, way less of a delayed response to 'Dad,' this time! It made her relax - just a little. She swallowed hard, but the worry came rushing out of her before she could stop it.

"I think I heard Miss Leia crying last night," she said in a hushed voice, her face blanching. "I just...was being...I was worried. Is she...okay?"

Han drew back a little cautiously, hesitating. He was a little uncertain why Vada was using 'Miss' again, suddenly, but he was also taken aback she'd heard Leia. He didn't think Leia had been particularly loud, though there had been a lot of moving around, and that might have woken Vada. And he figured she must have developed the same kind of senses he'd had to, when he was in the home, just to make sure she watched her back.

He swallowed hard.

"Leia's okay," he said firmly, folding his arms.

Vada looked down.

"Was she crying about me?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"No," Han said honestly. He paused again. "She uh, has bad dreams," he said vaguely. "You - kind of like when you had one, your first night here."

"Oh," Vada brightened just a little. "Oh, yes. I know. Sort of. She said to me, when I told her, that she missed her mommy, too. Bad dreams," she said.

Han nodded.

"Well, I will give her a hug later," Vada said, nodding to herself. "But, do not worry, Dad, I will not say why I do it."

She winked at him, because she knew maybe Leia would be embarrassed if she knew Vada heard her - and Vada was just relieved to know the crying wasn't part of a fight that had been about her. Han smiled at her.

"She'd like that," he said.

He stood there a moment longer, and then nodded, and took a small step back, waiting to see if she'd say anything else. When she didn't, he sort of slowly walked away, and Vada waited until she heard his footsteps really disappear, and sighed, relaxing her shoulders. So, they wanted to talk to her...that was scary, but maybe not bad. At least, at least it probably meant the foreboding whispers would stop - maybe something had happened? Maybe the social workers were mad at Han or something? She'd tell them they were stupid if that was the case. She was fine here. She was better here than she'd been in a long time, and she wanted to stay, even if that seemed absurd to decide after just a few weeks.

Vada chewed on her lip, and lowered her datapad, looking over everything she had written so far. She nervously scribbled a few more notes - just words, detailing exactly how she felt at this moment. Then she paused, tilted her head, and took a deep breath, considering her document some more. She added a little sketch, and then closed the document, and locked it into a file with a passcode. She sprung off the bed and started gathering her things for a 'fresher - clean clothes and her robe and all that.

But when she was standing in the 'fresher, toying with the temperature controls on the faucet, her stomach swooped nervously, and she frowned, staring up at the water spray. Instead of getting undressed and hopping in, she turned it off and stared at it, her heart beating fast. She decided she was too anxious to get in right now. She might be too distracted, and slip and fall, and then that would be a whole mess to deal with. Instead, she swallowed hard, resolved to go ask her father and Leia to just talk to her now - then if it was bad, she could use the 'fresher as an excuse to go hide for a little while.

She nodded to herself, keen on that plan, and crouched down to slide her socks back on, wriggling her toes, and darting out of the 'fresher. She went down the hall, and checked the sitting room, though neither of them were in there. She heard voices in the kitchen - kind of hushed voices, and in spite of her better angels - she paused. She had sworn to herself she wouldn't spy on them but - but she was scared, and she wanted to know what they were saying when they didn't think she could hear, because that was probably when they'd be most honest.

Swallowing hard, she pressed her lips together tightly, and sidled up close to the wall just outside the kitchen, straining to hear. She should have left the water running - but that was - that was too devious, and she wasn't being devious, she was just protecting herself.

Washing dishes was a common household chore Leia had simply never encountered as a youth or an adolescent, and so when she'd been faced with performing it on the way to Bespin, when the dish valet had, predictably, broken - just like everything else - Han had essentially had to teach her how to do it, an all round comical experience that ended in a bucket of soap suds dumped on his head. It had been learn how to scrub, or eat off dirty, crusty dishes, and Leia of course had no qualms about learning to do hard work, nor did she wish to eat with grimy cutlery on an already grimy ship, so learn she had.

She hadn't expected to actually find the act itself soothing. Even now, when they had an elite dish valet in their flat, and the ease of pressing a button to run it, Leia considered using it for their small amount of dirty dishes wasteful, and preferred to spend a little time focused on the post-supper clean up. It was relaxing in an way that was somehow both focused, and idle. She had to pay attention to make sure she actually cleaned the dishes, but it didn't require excessive brain power. And there was something pleasing about seeing an object go from a right scummy mess to sparkling clean.

Something metaphorical, too, probably, though she rarely dwelt on that. And, she supposed, there was likely an element of nostalgia - while she and Han cleaned dishes on the Falcon, on that trip that now felt like a lifetime ago, she'd felt unencumbered and simple, relieved of the burden of everything else in her life. They'd had to stand close, and work together, and it had given them time for intimate conversation. She recaptured it, sometimes, on quiet evenings with him here - though tonight, the conversation was considerably heavier than usual.

The topic wasn't what stupid stunt Wedge Antilles had pulled, or why Jan Dodonna was currently pissed off about Han's something-or-other; it was Vada, and the troubling development social services had thrown in their faces.

"She says she's okay," Han said, sliding his hands over Leia's shoulders as he returned to the kitchen, rejoining her at the sink. He shrugged. "She seemed a little withdrawn," he added warily. "I don't know. Maybe she's sick or somethin'."

"She should tell us if she's sick," Leia murmured. "Did you ask her if she felt sick?"

"Sorta," Han mumbled.

Leia rolled her eyes.

"But she's talkative, she's, y'know, confident," he said gruffly. "She'd say somethin', right?"

Leia shrugged.

"She acts that way," she said quietly. "Like you," she added, a little fondly.

"Me?" Han asked, folding his arms.

"Mmhmm," Leia murmured primly. "Acts confident, self-assured, but really," she leaned over to nudge him with her elbow, "is kind of soft, and sensitive - "

Han grumbled, nudging her elbow away with a muted scowl.

"I'm not - "

Leia just gave him a wry look turned back to washing dishes. She only had a few left, and she handed him one to dry.

"She said she was getting in the 'fresher soon," Han muttered. "She was writing. In a little diary or something," he explained. "Don't think she liked me asking about it."

Leia shrugged lightly.

"I wouldn't have wanted my father asking about my diary, either," she said logically. "Of course, I was older than her when I kept one," she snorted. "So it was probably more scandalous."

Han gave her an amused look, placing a dish on the drying rack. He grinned, but said nothing. The silence settled pleasantly, and Leia bent her head, focusing on one of the last plates - a small one; Vada's.

"You think," Han started. "Maybe she, uh, heard somethin' about this on the Holo?" He asked warily.

Leia frowned.

"There's nothing public about the Vardalos clan asking for custody," she said. "I had my sources check. They're keeping that close hold. She wouldn't have heard."

Han nodded uncertainly.

"She's just, I dunno, perceptive," he muttered. "It's kind of weird."

"Don't call your daughter weird, Han."

Han glared at her.

"I didn't say she's weird. She's just...she's like Luke, with sensing things." He blinked. "You think maybe she's really like Luke?" he asked, apprehensive suddenly.

Leia shook her head calmly.

"No, she's just smart, and observant," she said.

"You sure?'

Leia lifted one soapy, wet hand and pointed to her own temple, nodding.

"Yes. I'd sense it," she murmured, reminding him of her own power. She so often refrained from acknowledging that the Force was a part of her inheritance that he sometimes forgot she was - allegedly - as strong in it as Luke was.

Han took the last dish from her, drying it off roughly. He thought to himself for a moment, and then shifted his feet, frustrated. He didn't want to tell Leia Vada had asked about the crying; he knew Leia would be mortified, and she'd probably start trying to repress all that shit again, like she used to, and that was bad for her. He couldn't stand the idea of her boarding herself back up for the sake of Vada - 'cause that'd be his fault, technically, and that went back to his deep fear of ever being the one to cause Leia pain -

"I dunno, Leia," he said finally, setting aside the plate stiffly. "She said she was okay. She just seemed...kinda like she was scared of me. Again."

Leia sighed tiredly, turning off the faucet. She grabbed a towel and started drying her hands hastily, then reached for the bottle of lotion she kept near the sink and pressed a thin stream of it into her palm, beginning to rub it into her skin in slow, deliberate motions.

"Well, are you still acting scared of her?" she asked, more irritable than she'd meant to be.

She'd felt irritable and frustrated all day. It was understandable, considering the additional pressure that had been placed on them today, the additional complications, that collided with the chaos of adjustment they were already struggling with. Han's reticence and caution with Vada suddenly appeared weak to her, and she bit her tongue to keep from pointing out that she was certainly doing a better job of bonding than he was - but she tried, too, to remember, that even if she hadn't always been around children, she'd had parents, and a close family, and socialization that provided her with at least a base template of how to act.

Not to mention that at one point in her life, she had actually been a seven-year-old girl. So, at the very least, on the most basic level, she had some personal experience to draw on.

"I'm not scared of her," Han said edgily. He stared down at the dishes in the sink. "She just...kind of, you know...thinks you're more comfortable."

Leia ran her thumb over her palm, looking at it pointedly.

"You need to be warmer to her, Han," she said shortly.

"I don't - !" he started tersely. "I don't have experience with kids, I don't know - "

"You're warm to me," Leia said, pressing her hand to her heart. "If you really need a template, think of how you treat Luke. Like he's your little brother."

"The kid is like my little brother, but I swear in front of him and slap him in the back of the head sometimes, just to knock some sense into him. Am I s'pose to do that to her?" he demanded.

"You can extrapolate," Leia snapped. "You can moderate your behavior - the shock needs to wear off. This just got very serious."

"It wasn't serious before?" Han retorted. "I have a kid out of nowhere, but it's just now serious?"

Leia nodded curtly.

"Yes. Prior to this morning, we had time. There were no other things in play. Now, there is another person attempting to take custody of your daughter," she emphasized, "someone who you and I both seem to agree is, for lack of a better term, a gilded piece of shit."

Han wasn't sure whether to laugh, so he just turned his head and stared at her profile as she spoke. Leia pursed her lips, and folded her arms.

"You were adamant to those social workers that no one was going to take her away from you. You were passionate, Han," she said softly, "caring. You have to show her that. Where is that emotion when you interact with her? Are you afraid she'll think you're stupid? She needs it."

Han took a step back, looking at her incredulously. Fear, and insecurity, rose in his chest, and he grappled with something to say, feeling both cornered, and desperate - she was pushing him to consider his behavior, but he also saw it as signs he might be losing her, and it triggered his more hostile defensive mechanisms.

"You're an expert?" he asked. "I can't...I got told she's my kid, Leia, and I know how I'm supposed to feel, but I can't force it!" he waved his hands jerkily. "It comes in...waves, it doesn't make any sense! I know she's mine, and I don't want Visenya's mother takin' her, 'cause I know Visenya didn't want that, and I got traumatized in a home, so I ain't lettin' anyone who put her in one suddenly take her back!" he explained in a hiss, "but that doesn't mean it's," he snapped, "automatic, uhhh, fatherly...feelings!"

Leia looked at him hard, listening, and then turned her head away, taking a deep breath. He was right. That was fair. She understood - and she was quiet for a moment, letting him see she was taking his words to heart. She looked back up.

"Are you sure she was going to have a 'fresher?" she asked mildly. "I don't hear water."

Han shrugged.

"She said she was goin' in a minute," he muttered. "She's in her room."

Leia listened, letting herself calm down. She tried to let go of some of the hostility she was feeling. She didn't know why it was suddenly so strong - and she didn't think it was directed at Han. It was more focused on their situation as a whole, and Han's apparently lack of ability to take charge of it better, and comfort her - she didn't want to be the needy one, but how was it possible that he failed to see she needed him to define a role for her? Perhaps some of her chagrin stemmed from the physical gulf between them - the one, and only, time they'd had sex since Vada's arrival was two days ago, hurriedly, in the 'fresher, before she'd woken up, and it had lacked the usual intimacy and consummate affection. She was still emotionally sore over how distant and rushed it had been, unable to discern if it was worry over being caught that inhibited them, or undisclosed issues. He hadn't physically hurt her, but she'd hated the irreverence of it - the detachment.

She heard the water flip on, and licked her lips, rolling her shoulders back slowly. She took a deep breath, and sighed.

"This isn't going to be a slow, pleasantly awkward assimilation anymore," she said quietly. "The Vardalos clan has power, and money. If you're going to declare war on them, you need to show more than a lukewarm affection for Vada."

Han swallowed hard.

"I have more than," he started sharply, pausing dryly. "It's more than that," he said, unable to explain it.

He didn't know what to call it. He didn't know what he felt. Maybe, right now, it was little more than the primal knowledge that Vada was his flesh and blood, so he was honor bound to love her in some way, and he thought she was cute, and kind of funny, and smart, and he didn't want anything bad to happen to her regardless of who she was.

"Start acting like it," Leia said softly.

A pained look crossed his face, and he turned to lean down on the counter, bowing his head. He flattened his palms, and stared at the backs of his hands, his shoulders hunching.

"I don't know how," he said tersely, and then looked up, shaking his head. "Leia, all this stuff just…y'know what they said, about you?" he asked warily. "Needing to define your…role?" He snorted harshly. "What kind of pressure's that put on you? The exact kinda thing I don't want you to have to deal with."

Leia pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring slightly as she stared straight ahead.

"What do you want me to deal with, Han?" she asked.

He blinked, looking at her shoulder.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean," she said stiffly, "you keep going back to this martyr act – "

"It's not an act!"

" – this tirade about how you're so devastated that this is so hard on me," Leia continued, ignoring him. "It is hard on me," she said frankly. "It's hard on both of us, and I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm not running away. Have I done anything that has made it seem like that?"

He pushed himself up on one elbow, watching her, and listening.

"I don't doubt your guilt, Han," she said softly. "I know you're conflicted. I know you're – all kinds of messed up over all of this, but I've said, and I've said, and I've said, that I'm not going to leave you."

She paused, biting her lip as it trembled.

"Unless you start to push me out," she said huskily. "I don't mean – neglect me for Vada. She's a little girl. Your attention and affections for us are vastly different, and they're not competitive," she explained. "They shouldn't be, if you're thinking it's an 'either-or' thing."

She tossed her head, looking up at the ceiling.

"I mean…did you ever consider how it might hurt that your social workers had to tell you to define a role for me, instead of you," she broke off, her voice shaking, "asking me to help you? Instead of assuming I'd be done with you, and be done with this burden, did you think to tell me you needed me?"

Han straightened up, stepping closer. He reached for her arm, and she let him take it.

"I've been taking the lead on this thing with your daughter," she whispered, "and I have no problem with that, Han. I don't. I wish you would get closer to her, I wish I could ease your struggle somehow, but I also can't risk overstepping my bounds and alienating her, or you, or coming between you two and causing resentment," she trailed off.

She looked over, at his hand on her arm, and then looked up, her eyes swimming.

"When she first got here, you said I didn't have to be a 'stepmom,'" she said. "This is all so new we can't possibly be thinking of that, but what else…did you think I'd be?" she asked, swallowing hard. "If we aren't going to be over, then," she trailed off for a moment, and said in a nearly inaudible voice: "isn't she mine, too?"

Han stared at her for a long time, trying to process all she'd said. He blinked, holding onto her arm tighter, and then swallowed hard, slipping his hand up to her shoulder, and sliding his arm around her shoulders.

"Leia," he murmured, pulling her closer. He tucked her head under his chin, and kissed her temple. "Sweetheart, 'm sorry," he said gently. "Over," he repeated, feeling nauseous at the thought. "Don't say that. Don't even think it."

His chest ached, and he pressed his lips into her hair.

"Leia," he said again. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She reached up and held his arm.

"I need you, too," she said. She licked her lips, wriggling a little to look up at him. "This is all so stressful, Han. I know that. But I need to feel like more than a, a – your – minder."

Han furrowed his brow a little.

"Minder?" he quoted.

She laughed hoarsely.

"It's um, an advisor my father used to have," she explained sheepishly. "That made sure he always knew about me, where I was, what I was learning," she trailed off. "I want to help," she said, taking a deep breath. "I am in this with you."

Han stepped back. He took a deep breath, and then folded his arms, staring down at his feet.

"So," he started. "You want – you think we should tell the social workers that our plan is…you'll, um, have custody with me?" he asked hesitantly.

"I don't know if the courts will go for that," Leia said, taking her own deep breath. "I don't have a blood connection to Vada or a legal connection to you. I just," she paused. "This is the moment you are going to decide if you want Vada, or if this is your out."

Leia blinked, almost coldly, and Han stared at her, his eyes wide. Hadn't that been what he was wondering just recently – if Leia would want to call this their out? Was she subtly hinting at that now? He held her gaze, the answer already firm in his chest, and he shook his head, his jaw falling into a certain line.

"I don't want out," he said. "I meant what I said. Vada stays with me."

Leia looked relieved, but he saw her draw her lips into a thin line, and he relaxed his jaw a little.

"Us," he amended. "Vada stays with us."

She bowed her head, blowing air out through her lips shakily. She looked back up, the coldness gone from her eyes, her expression soft, and fiercely approving.

"I knew you were this kind of man, Han," she said softly. "You're hellbent on tearing yourself to pieces inside because you think you're not, but you are. And you would have been back then, if you knew about her."

He looked at her dubiously, and said nothing. After a moment, he shifted warily.

"And if it goes like it's s'pose to, with uh," he ran a hand over his jaw, "the courts makin' sure I get Vada, that's just – it, for you? For us? I have a kid, and Vada's um, ours, and," he shrugged, "what's she call you? 'Mommy'?" he asked, a little edgily.

It still felt like such a violent invasion of Leia's life, to have her beholden to something like this when she didn't have to be. He tried to imagine what his reaction would be if he found out she had a kid, but it was next to impossible to conceive of. There was no way Leia could have a kid without knowing she had one –

But, he figured, it was possible for her to hide one. Even if her age made that virtually impossible, and the length of time he'd known her made it even less likely, he thought about it for a second, and decided that yeah, if she produced a baby out of nowhere, even if it wasn't his, he'd still love her. He'd hate the lie, but he'd love Leia.

Leia dipped her head and smiled a little wryly.

"I think we need to find a moment to talk about it more…thoroughly," she said. There were, after all, parameters, rules – they needed to find out how Vada felt, about the integration of her new family, about Leia's role in it. "Han, just remember, there's no," she paused, and shook her head. "There's no need to keep going into a panic about losing me. Certainly not when it's impeding your ability to bond with Vada."

Han's jaw tightened.

"This is…it's a big deal, Leia," he said again, tiredly. "You didn't sign up for this. I feel…like I'm robbin' you of somethin'. I don't even know if you ever wanted kids."

Unspoken, other nuances to that statement lingered – if she wanted kids at all, if she wanted kids with him. Leia lifted her shoulders in a little shrug, too focused on the here and now to worry about it, unsure what she'd wanted at all. She felt something stir in her when she watched Han interact with Vada. She was sure she could recall wanting children when she was little.

Things were so different now.

"I don't either," she said simply. "I don't want her to feel unwanted, though. What a terrible feeling," she murmured.

"Yeah," Han agreed tightly, and Leia thought of his comment earlier, about being traumatized in the home. He'd never spoken of anything like that before, and she filed it away with sensitivity, remembering, in case he ever needed to talk.

Leia took his hand and held it. She brought his knuckles to her lips to kiss them, and then unfurled his fingers and kissed his palm, her lips lingering. Looking up wryly, she cocked her head.

"Well, maybe I can practice on her," she joked lightly, her voice a slow drawl. She arched a brow. "She has no chance of inheriting the bad Skywalker genes – "

Leia broke off, startled, suddenly, by a flash of movement. Unexpectedly, Vada had lurched into the doorway, a flash of dark skin and wild curly hair – certainly not in the 'fresher where they'd thought she was. When she saw the small face scrunched up in distress and uncertainty, she realized she hadn't noticed the 'fresher had shut right off shortly after it started.

Had Vada been – eavesdropping? How long had she - ?

Han turned around jerkily when he saw Leia's face blanch. Vada's eyes filled quickly with tears, her hands going into fists at her side. He blinked, and before he could process what was happening, Vada rocked on her feet, her eyes flashing vividly.

"I don't want to be your practice baby," she choked out. "What does that mean? So I have to leave if you have a real one?"

She couldn't help it – she'd been listening, and they were scaring her, with their talk of maybe having an out, and all the other adult stuff she hadn't been able to hear too well, because they were whispering, and cuddling each other. That made her hurt, too, because she missed being cuddled herself and – and –

Her eyes snapped onto Han's pleadingly, looking to her father for reassurance, but his eyes were wide with the usual shell-shocked thranta look, and Vada turned around and darted off.

Leia cringed awfully when she heard a door skid and slam violently.

Han stared after her, stricken, and then angry, and then uncertain. He floundered between those three emotions, and then he turned, and snatched his hand from Leia's sharply, lunging with a jerky, instinctive movement in the direction his daughter had run off.

The look he threw over his shoulder was so protectively nasty that Leia was horrified on behalf of herself, and yet at the sight of it, a heady rush of relief coursed through her – if nothing else, that look spoke to the growing bond he had with Vada, whether he recognized it or not, and he needed to cling to that, to nurture it.

She dropped her face into her hands, biting her lip – she'd never have said it if it hadn't been such a stressful day, she'd just been trying to be light, to make him feel better - and it wasn't something to reflect on Vada, anyway. She was nervous and insecure about her own ability to be any sort of maternal figure, and that was the role she was facing – of her own volition, but that did not mean without fear.

"Vada?" she heard Han calling. "Vada."

Leia pressed her knuckles into her teeth, trying not to burst into sobs. Han didn't need it right now. Neither of them did. She felt terrible, and yet she composed herself, straightening, and pushing her hair back. She took a deep breath, and stepped forward, going into the hall.

Han was standing outside Vada's door uncertainly, his hands hanging heavily at his sides.

"Han," she said hoarsely, moving closer. "Han," she touched his arm.

He twitched it at her sharply, stepping away, and thrust his hand out at the door angrily.

"What do you think she heard?" he hissed. "Leia, 'm tryin' – "

"Give her a minute," Leia pleaded. "You need to give her a minute, don't crowd her," she said.

"What?" Han snapped. "No, I need to tell her – give her – why?" he asked, exasperated, frustrated. "How do you know this shit? What the fuck do I do?"

Leia held his wrist tighter, pulling him away from the door, closer to her. She put her hand to his chest, took a deep breath, and then slipped past him, pressing her hand to the door.

"Vada?" she called softly.

"Leave me alone, please leave me alone!" she shouted. She sounded hoarse, and hostile, and Leia rested her head against the door, licking her lips. She merely nodded, and stepped away, pushing Han down the hall a little.

"Because she's angry, and scared, and her emotions are running too high right now," Leia said in a small voice.

Han struggled in her grip a little, fighting to get past her.

"Han – "

"No, stop it, Leia, I'm going to go tell her we're gonna keep her, and we're gonna fight for her. That's what we were going to tell her, anyway, that's – "

"Han!" Leia shouted.

He stopped, glaring at her. She held up her hands.

"If you do it right now, it will sound like you're just saying it to calm her down. Let her calm down. Let her be ready to listen."

She took a deep breath.

"Go into the living room. Sit down. Have a pour of whiskey and think about what you want to say to her. Think, Han. Make it good. Then go talk to her," she advised.

She licked her lips, and gave him a firm, encouraging nod.

"I know we don't know what we're doing right now," she said huskily, "but I also know that when I was a little girl, and I was that angry or frustrated or scared, I didn't want to listen to my father."

She relaxed her grip a little.

"Let her write in her diary. Let her cry."

Han leaned back against the wall, shoulders sagging.

"Leia," he said hoarsely. "I don't want her to cry."

She smiled at him heavily.

"Good," she said. "Go," she urged firmly. "Sort your thoughts out."

He bent forward, running his hands over his thighs, and then looked up at her, his eyes wary and dull.

"What about you?" he asked. "What are you going to do?"

Leia shifted her feet edgily, a half-formed thought burgeoning in her mind. She thought he might hate it, so she didn't give voice to it yet – and she, too, needed to think and see if it were the best idea. She tilted her head, lifting her shoulders.

"I am, ah, going to take a bath," she said faintly. "I want you to give Vada your undivided attention for a while. Then, um," she paused cautiously. "You and I will talk."

Han held her gaze for a long time. He straightened a little, and nodded, running his hand through his hair. That sounded okay, he figured. It could be worse. He nodded again, distracted, and Leia watched his eyes drift back down the hall, to Vada's door. Instead of following that gaze, she kept he eyes on him – and on his face, she saw determination, and in silence, she was rooting for him.

Han poured himself a dram of whiskey. He set it on the table in the living room and stared at it, his elbows digging into his thighs, his nose pressed into his knuckles. He didn't think he felt like drinking it. Or, he worried if he did start drinking it, he might not be able to stop right now, and stumbling into talk to Vada raging drunk when she was already anxious and upset probably counted as a disqualifying parenting tactic.

So, instead of drinking it, he just stared. He bumped his teeth into his knuckles, listening to the Leia's bathwater run. Like he and Leia should have listened, and made sure Vada really was in the shower.

Han didn't know if she'd purposely eavesdropped, or if she'd come to ask them something, and got caught up. He didn't want to know. He didn't really care. She was a little kid and she couldn't help it. And, he thought grimly, she'd probably spent the past few weeks not being herself, anyway, because of them, and all this stuff going on.

He closed his eyes, bowing his head and rubbing his knuckles against his temple. He swallowed hard, trying to clear his head of distractions. Leia was right, he needed to talk to Vada, and he needed to make it good. To do that, he had to shake off the habit of Leia being the only person in his life he focused on. He needed to accept that she could take care of herself – but he also felt like everything was slipping through his fingers.

Even if Leia pushed him towards Vada, even if she understood, he still felt that if he put Vada first right now, he'd draw a clear line in the sand that demoted Leia in his affections, which he didn't want to do. But Vada – she was seven, and she was his daughter, and she was fragile, and he also didn't want her to think that even if she forgave him, and calmed down, and knew that they wanted to keep her, she'd always come second to Leia.

He groaned softly. It was almost like being in love with two women, except it was infinitely worse than that. Vada needed a parent, and Leia needed the relationship she shared with him, in a vastly different way.

He heard the water shut off, and lowered his hands, reaching forward to take the glass of whiskey. He swirled it around, inhaling it, and still not touching it. He stared at a point in space over it, trying to make sense of what Leia wanted, and trying to think of a good thing to say to Vada.

He found himself wanting to run his words by Leia. Wanting to ask, well, is it okay if I say this – would that be good? And he scowled at himself; that was exactly what Leia was trying to get him to stop doing. Stop relying on her to be a crutch, and start acknowledging her as a partner. Which was something he'd always, always done – valued her as a partner, and equal, until this, when he'd lost all his nerve, and she'd taken the lead while having no idea what her part was.

He knew Leia hadn't said what she said for any of the reasons Vada probably thought.

He lifted the glass to his lips, took a deep breath, and then got up and went to abandon it in the kitchen. He left it on the counter and then ran his hand over his jaw, taking a deep breath. He set his shoulders and went down the hall. Briefly, he stopped to glance into the master bedroom.

Leia was still in the bath; he could smell the salts and bubbles she was so fond of. He turned and trudged towards Vada's door. It had been about half an hour now, so maybe she had cooled off a little.

He swallowed hard. Think, Han. Make it good; then go talk to her – he was always taking cues from Leia on this, and that hardly made sense. He was beginning to understand that, after hearing her out tonight. Sure, he was stumbling through it all, blundering around like some kind of bantha in an antique shop, but Leia was no more informed than he was when it came to parenthood – she'd never been a mother; Han had never even know Leia to express interest in children - other people's, or having her own.

He caught himself thinking – Well, it's because she's a woman – but that wasn't fair, was it? If Leia was innately good at handling children because she was female, and a default mother, shouldn't Han have some inherent skill, too? Why would he consider Leia an automatically good mother and not hold himself to the same standard – men had been fathers since the start of time, hadn't they?

He stared at the tightly closed door, hearing the slam of it echo in his ears, internally twisted up in knots over what to say – Han was used to going after Leia, not leaving her alone with her emotions while he went after someone else.

He cleared his throat.

"Vada?" he called, softer, and more controlled than he had last time.

He knocked on the door she'd slammed very gently. His emotions had cooled a little too, and he wished he hadn't given Leia such an angry look over the whole thing, but he wished Leia hadn't said – and Vada hadn't overheard –

"Vada?" he asked again.

He heard a small peep, and a few moments later, with a little lurch, she pulled open the door and let Han in.

"You can just come in," Vada said bitterly, giving him a moody look. "I'm only here until Miss Leia has her own baby."

Han winced. He left the door open and stood there, rubbing his jaw. 'Miss' again. Her irritation towards Leia must have been brewing, for some reason – and why? She had seemed to like her so much.

He decided not to be baited so quickly. He also didn't really want touch on the subject of having a baby with Leia.

"Mind if I talk to you?" he asked slowly.

Vada shrugged. She picked up the stuffed animal he'd bought her on her first day here. Then, she set it aside, and picked up her older one, the one her mother had given her. She stared at its face and sat down on the huge bed she'd been sleeping in, and she suddenly looked very small, and tired, and much less vicious than she had earlier, when she was consumed with her fear.

"Am I in trouble because I yelled at her?" she asked worriedly. "I do not…yell, at grown-ups," she whispered, wincing. "It is bad."

Han's heart clenched a little.

"No," Han said. "You're not in trouble." He paused. "Hey, um. You're not bad, okay?" he offered.

Han let his hands fall by his sides and stared at her for a moment. He cleared his throat, deciding he was probably best off right now being as transparent as possible.

"Uh, look, Vada, I … got to be honest, I don't know how to talk to kids very well," he said. "You probably noticed," he muttered.

Vada hugged her toy, tightly, and looked up, her brow furrowing.

"We are just people," she mumbled, looking at him curiously. "Kids."

"Yeah, but," Han laughed. "I dunno what's too heavy for you. Or uh … what you're gonna get, and what you won't," he mumbled.

Vada twitched her head to the side. She sighed, her shoulders falling dejectedly.

"I am pretty grown up," she groused. She gave him a look. "I had to raise Mommy."

Han laughed a little nervously. He folded his arms and stood stiffly, thinking for a moment. He nodded.

"Okay," he mumbled awkwardly. "Thing is, I can't really … speak for Leia's feelings, only what she tells me. What she said though … she was kidding," he said earnestly – and he knew that, he knew Leia. "There's, uh," he started. He thought Leia's worry about her own children probably stemmed from her known relation to Darth Vader. But hell, he couldn't tell that to Vada. "She has some other hang-ups, and she was just tryin' to lighten the mood."

"I am not a practice baby," Vada said flatly. She rested her chin on her toy's head. "I am not…a joke."

"You're not even a baby," Han said flatly. "Leia's just … ahh, scared, I think."

He chose that word carefully, but he also drew on what Leia had just told him.

"Of what?" Vada asked softly. "She's basically the queen of the galaxy." Vada frowned, shaking her head – she'd seen Princess Leia yell at men taller than her, fight people bigger than her, and spit in the proverbial face of tyranny. No way she was afraid of a little girl.

No way.

Han gave her a half smile. He didn't say anything for a moment.

"She's lost a lot," he said slowly. "So, she thinks she's going to lose more."

"I am not trying to take you away from her!" Vada burst out. She looked terrified. "I am not! I just want–"

"I know," he started quickly.

Vada's eyes filled with tears.

"I do not want to have to go," she exclaimed. "I like you. I like you!" she cried. "I was scared to meet you but I like you and I do not want to go to someone else!" She buried her face in the toy, sobbing. "I like her, too, even if she does not like me!"

Han grimaced, his stomach twisting. He let go of some of his uncertainty and stepped forward, kneeling down on the floor. He swallowed hard and reached for her, like he should have several times before. He felt a surge of the innate sort of instinct he'd been waiting for.

"C'mere, Vada," he said, pulling her into a tight hug. He spoke to her carefully in Corellian, resting his hand on the back of her curly hair.

She pinned her stuffed animal against his neck, burrowing into the hug.

"I've tried to be really good," she sobbed, her shoulders trembling, switching into Corellian as well. "I am good, I promise, but I was even better, here, not being loud, or running around," she choked.

Han nodded.

"It's okay," he said calmly. "It's okay."

He remembered that fear too acutely - that no matter how much he did right, he'd get screwed over. He patted the back of her head gently.

"It'll be okay."

He lowered his other leg, kneeling on both, and kept hugging her. He felt some of that indignant, protective passion he'd felt in the social workers' office flare up, and he gave it to her, hoping she understood it. He saw more of Visenya in her when he looked at her, though others said she was a little image of him, but either way, he saw parts of himself in her – in her eyes, in her fear of being abandoned and not taken care of, in how she'd lost her mother so young.

He patted her hair a few more times, the motion become less awkward with each repetition, and when it seemed she was crying herself out a little, he braced himself, and stood up, lifting her with him. She was probably too big to be carried, but he placed her on her feet on her bed, so when she stood, she could still hug him, and rest her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled into his shirt. "I have not…cried in a very long time."

"It's okay," Han said again.

He took a step back, and reached up to squeeze her shoulder.

"You want some water? Juice?" he asked. She shook her head, kept shaking it. "Tissue?" he asked.

Vada hung her head, blushing.

"I wiped my nose on your shirt," she whispered.

In spite of himself, Han grinned.

"S'okay," he said firmly. "Hey, y'know, Chewie got real sick once, and he sneezed one me," he said. "You ever been sneezed on by a Wookiee?"

Vada bit her lip. She shook her head.

"Yeah, but you've had a 'fresher, so, same thing," Han said seriously.

She giggled tentatively.

"You sure you don't want anything to drink?"

"No. I mean, yes. Um. I do not," Vada said. She blushed again. "Can we please keep speaking Corellian?" she asked.

Han nodded immediately. Vada looked relieved. She collapsed, sitting down heavily, and crossed her legs. She pulled both stuffed toys into her lap and looked down at them, then back up.

"You can sit down, it's okay," she said, putting her hand down next to her. Even though she'd said she didn't want a tissue, she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Han accepted the invitation, and sat down on the edge of the bed with her. She plucked at her stuffed animal's ears. She sniffled a few times.

"Thank you for coming in to hug me," she said.

Han nodded.

"And talk," she said.

She caught her breath and looked up at him, biting her lips.

"I got so scared and anxious and I'm sorry," she blurted again. "I lost control and I yelled and I was just, I don't know – I'm not – I am good," she said again. "I swear."

"Okay," Han said, turning towards her warily. "Okay, um, look – you got to stop saying that like it matters," he said.

Vada drew back, uncertain, and he cleared his throat, waving his hand to make her listen.

"No, what I mean is, we're not going to just send you away because you're not perfect," Han said. "You know, you can," he waved his hand again. "Act like a kid."

Vada relaxed a little, settling, and she shrugged.

"But," she started. "There's so much attention, and Miss Leia has so many people judging her, and I'm not hers," she trailed off.

"Yeah, well, all that is for, uh, me and Leia to deal with," Han said dismissively. "I know it's about you sometimes, but we're used to people saying stuff about us, and it doesn't change what we do."

Vada shrugged. She plucked at her toy's ears, and Han turned to study her, hesitating.

"So you're calling her 'Miss' Leia again?"

Vada shrugged harder.

"You mad at her?"

Vada sighed, and tilted her head. Her eyes filled with tears again.

"I don't know," she mumbled shakily. "Is she not wanting me here anymore?"

Han arched his eyebrows, confused.

"Why'd you think that?" he asked.

Vada turned towards him a little, chewing on her lip.

"You two have been whispering a lot," she said. "It has been, um…tense?" she said. "Ever since the home visit." She hung her head back down. "I thought…maybe…it was too much. For everyone."

Han nodded, taking that in. He thought about it for a moment.

"I guess we were kinda whispering a lot," he muttered.

Vada nodded warily.

"We were gonna talk to you a little tonight," Han admitted, deciding it was best to just make an executive decision and have the conversation without Leia, if it soothed Vada faster and made things clearer. "You don't have to worry, though – "

"Talk to me about what?" Vada asked, tears slipping down her cheeks again. "Having to go back? I really thought maybe things were going okay – "

"No," Han said loudly. "You are not going anywhere."

He said it more aggressively than he meant to, and Vada quieted, her eyes widening a little. He sat back, taking a deep breath, and rolled his shoulders, reaching up to rub his neck.

"Vada," he said edgily. "I dunno how to tell you this, so'm just gonna say it," he muttered. "Your, uh, grandmother, Visenya's mom?" he grunted. "She's asking Corellia to give you to her."

Vada stared at him, uncomprehending. Her brow furrowed, and she frowned, shaking her head.

"No," she said slowly. "They asked her already, and she paid the fine," she said simply.

"Yeah," Han agreed. "That's what I said. Doesn't matter. She still gets to try to take you back," he said flatly.

Vada reared back.

"Mommy hated her!" she cried softly. "When they took me to her after Mommy died, I knew Mommy would hate it. I don't – "

Han was nodding earnestly. He reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Hang on, hang on, and listen. I know that. Your mom left me a note," he said. "It said she wanted me to take care of you. No one else." He shrugged. "That's got to be why she fixed your birth certificate anyway, right?"

Vada nodded, her face still stricken.

"So, uh," Han cleared his throat. "We found out that, and it sorta made things harder, 'cause now – the social workers said I got to decide if I want to fight her custody claim, and that might be harder, 'cause I'm still vetting, and Leia doesn't have any, uh, blood connection to you," he explained.

Vada cast he eyes down, hunching her shoulders.

"You've been whispering to decide if you want me," she mumbled wearily.

"Huh-uh," Han corrected. "We been whisperin' about…stuff with Leia and me, it's got," he broke off, frustrated. "It's got nothin' to do with you," he said hastily. "Not really," he muttered.

It sort of did, but not…not the way Vada was probably thinking. Han sighed, and folded his arms tightly.

"When we had our meeting with the social workers, they told us about this," he said, "and it made me'n'Leia both real mad. She doesn't want you to go to your grandmother, and neither do I."

Vada fidgeted.

"Is that what you told the social workers?" she asked.

"Yes," Han said emphatically.

"So she can't take me," Vada said, looking up hopefully. "I get to stay here and we just keep seeing if they say you're fit to take care of me?"

Han hesitated. He frowned apologetically.

"Kid," he started quietly. "I can't…stop 'em from suing me for custody, apparently," he admitted grimly. "It's a right."

Vada muttered something under her breath that sounded very much like a swear word. Han, though amused, let it slide without comment. He watched her, and she kept staring down, saying nothing.

"They had enough money to pay the fine," Vada whispered dejectedly. "To make them not have to take me. So, they will have enough money to just take me back, won't they?"

Han took a deep breath.

"Nah, it's not gonna happen like that," he said. "'M not gonna let it. I know you're, uh, mad at 'er right now but – Leia's been building a system that doesn't let stuff like that fly anymore," he said gruffly. "And Leia's got power, too."

Vada shrugged.

"Vada?" Han said, not saying anything else until she looked up at him finally, her eyes wary, and her face pale. "I'm going to fight for you," he said. "That's what me and Leia were going to talk to you about. We were going to tell you that we want to make sure you stay here," he said, "and we already made the social workers promise that no matter what, you stay with us until the court stuff is over."

She looked at him for a long time.

"Fight for me?" she asked faintly.

She licked her lips, her eyes searching his hopefully.

"You're not – you're not going to – pay someone," her face lit up, but she started to cry again, "to—to—take me back?"

Han shook his head.

Vada reached up and touched her cheeks, her lips trembling.

"Miss…Leia doesn't want to make me go away?"

Han shook his head again. He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear hesitantly.

"I was there when she said it, Vada," he assured her. "She wants you to stay with us."

Vada's face brightened a little, and she wiped at her eyes.

"I was scared," she whimpered. "Because I'm not hers, really. So she doesn't have to care at all. That's why I made her the drawings, and I was being nice, but I really do like her," she said in a rush. "And she scared me when she said…when I thought," she broke off, leaning into Han's shoulder. She turned her face into him. "Why did she say that?"

Han sighed. He gently placed his arm around her shoulders, patting her arm. He frowned, trying to think of something to say. It didn't seem right to say that it was just a stupid, dark joke, because he didn't want Vada to think she was the joke, or that they weren't taking this seriously.

"She's new at this, too," Han said finally. "She's…like me, I think," he said. "She doesn't really know what to do. How to, uh, take care of you."

Vada placed her hand on Han's knee and tapped it.

"But," she said softly. "You are doing fine."

Han grinned.

"Sometimes grown ups make stupid comments, Vada," he said. "Leia wasn't saying she'd kick you out if she had a baby. She wasn't. I know you don't believe me right now, but," he trailed off.

"Is she going to have a baby?" Vada asked.

"What?" Han snorted. "No," he said.

"Ever?" Vada pressed. "I know not now. She's too small."

Han snorted again, but swallowed hard, unsure.

"I don't know," he said, his voice rising edgily a little. "She's – we're – Vada, Leia and I, uhh," he took a deep breath to steady himself. "No baby right now. For a while. Maybe at all, okay?"

Vada nodded, but looked uncertain.

"That means you can't really say…what would happen if she did, if you and her did," she trailed off.

"Well – yes, I can," Han corrected, frustrated.

"How?" Vada asked.

"Because," he said. "Because – because people, good people don't do that! No one who's got – half a damn brain just boots one kid out the door all of a sudden! That's," he put his hand to his head and rubbed his temple, gritting his teeth. "I wouldn't do that, Leia wouldn't do that, and you know what? Fine, if she did, if she went fucking – insane and tried something like that, I wouldn't let her."

He took a deep breath.

"She wouldn't, though," he said hoarsely. "She wouldn't do that."

Vada curled her hand back into her lap, but kept leaning against him. She nodded her head a little. He sounded like he was telling the truth. She was pretty good at deciding when people were lying. Besides, he'd started swearing, and if he were lying, he'd be more eloquent. And calmer.

She reached down and pointed at the bold, golden stripe down the side of Han's pants.

"You earned these," she said quietly. "Not – they're not stolen valor? The gold and the red?"

Han looked down at the bloodstripes she pointed at. He shook his head, his jaw tightening a little.

"No," he said quietly. "They're not stolen."

Vada nodded. She nodded for a long time, just staring at them, as if she were deciding something.

"Okay," she said finally. "Okay. I trust you. I trust these," she said. She looked up. "Will you tell me how you got them?"

Han swallowed hard.

"Someday," he agreed warily. They weren't stories he told often. "You have to be older."

Vada nodded. After a moment, she tilted her head.

"How old?"

Han turned to her, and grinned a little.

"Uhh," he tried. "Sixteen?"

"Dad," she said seriously, wincing. "Don't you think you might be dead by then?"

Han laughed, leaning back. He arched his brows.

"Thirty-three ain't ancient, kid," he snorted.

Vada smiled a little. She shrugged, and reached up to wipe her face. She lifted a stuffed animal, and rubbed it on her cheeks to dry them. Han watched and then pointed, clearing his throat gruffly.

"What's his name again?" he asked.

"Spork," Vada said. She picked up the other one, than one Han had bought for her. "And this one is Spryte."

Han smiled.

"You named the one I gave you, too?" he asked.

Vada nodded. She smiled, and clutched both of them under one arm.

"Dad? I don't want to get in the 'fresher tonight," she said, her shoulders drooping. "I…just want to go to sleep."

Han shrugged.

"Do that, then," he said. He hesitated, and then went on: "Just next time, uh, don't…pretend to get in the 'fresher," he said. "Think it'd be better if you just come talk to us."

Vada looked horrified.

"Oh, I didn't! I'm – I changed my mind, and went to come ask you to talk to me now, instead of after, but then I got distracted listening – but it wasn't being sneaky on purpose!" she squeaked.

"Okay, okay," Han said. "I believe you." He tilted his head at her. "But the eavesdropping?"

She flushed, and nodded.

"Yeah," she said heavily. "Not good," she agreed sulkily.

Han smiled. He shrugged, and nudged her shoulder.

"Still like you okay," he said.

She smiled back.

"I like you, too."

She leaned over and hugged him, tucking her head under his arm, and he gave her a squeeze in return, noticing that it was definitely getting easier. Vada took a deep breath, snuggling closer for a moment, and then pulled away gently, biting her lip.

"Thanks for talking," she said. "It was a nice talk. You did nice," she told him.

Han arched a brow, but nodded.

"Thanks," he said. She looked at him, unblinking, and then tilted her head a little nervously. Han jumped, clearing his throat. "Oh, uh – you want to go to sleep?" he asked, pointing at the door. "You want me – to get out?" he asked, a little amused.

She bit her lip, dipping her head shyly.

"It was a nice talk," she said again, quietly. "But I am tired and, um," she clutched Spork and Spryte, "kind of want to just be alone and go to sleep."

Han nodded. He got up, and turned to face her, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"You're sure you okay right now?" he checked.

"Mm-hm," she said.

He hesitated.

"Tomorrow morning, you – how about I make hot cakes again? Corellian style?" he offered.

Vada buried her face in her stuffed animals, grinning, and nodded, bouncing up and down a little. He smiled, and drew one hand up, pointing over his shoulder.

"You have a nightmare or somethin', you come get me," he said gruffly.

Vada nodded again, and when she lifted her head and smiled - even though her eyes were still red – he felt okay slowly leaving the room, and letting her have her time to herself. He pulled the door shut tightly, staring at it for a long time, and then turned on his heel and went back into the kitchen.

There, he downed the drink he'd poured, rubbed his hand over his mouth, and went to find Leia. He wanted to tell her things had gone okay, with the talk, and that Vada was okay – or going to be. He walked into their bedroom, keen on relating things to her, and slowed to a stop when he found her, fully dressed, albeit causally, and tucking items neatly into a carrying case.

He glanced at the open door, and then reached over to close it, putting another barrier between their room and Vada's. She looked up at the sound, and smiled at him calmly. He nodded at the case.

"Going somewhere?" he asked lamely.

Leia nodded. She straightened, put her hands on her hips, and then slowly let them slide down. She leaned forward and placed a toiletry kit on top of the items she had already packed, and then stepped to the edge of the bed, sitting down on it. She crossed her arms.

"I," she began delicately, "am going to stay with Luke for a bit."

Han stared at her, a numb feeling starting in his fingertips. He raised one hand, and rubbed it over the back of his neck, cutting his eyes away sharply. When he looked back at her, he didn't know what to say. He only stared.

"I'm not angry with you," she said calmly. "I'm not leaving you," she said, in that same calm, sage tone. "You need some time to focus just on Vada. She needs to feel that safety, and to get close to you. You both need that no matter what," she took a deep breath, "but you really need it if we're going to fight the Vardalos clan."

We. At least she was still saying we. Han still stared at her, frozen to the spot. She held his gaze; her lips pursed lightly, her eyes full of quiet determination. He shook himself a little, a deep frown creasing his features.

"This is your apartment," he said numbly.

Leia shook her head.

"This is our apartment," she corrected. "Vada can't live on the Falcon, Han. I want to give you and her some space."

He strode forward jerkily, standing before her. Impulsively, he went down on one knee, so he was nearly even height with her as she sat on the end of the bed.

"Leia," he started. "I don't want you to go," he said hoarsely. "Leia…this is home."

"Yes," she agreed softly, touching his jaw. "It is. It will remain home. I'm not removing myself from this, I just want you to have time for just Vada. I keep telling you I can take care of myself," she said. "And I can keep these vultures away from you and Vada, to the best of my ability."

She took a deep breath.

"It's just few days. It's just," she shrugged. "We need to take a step back, and slow down," she said. "This all happened so fast."

He dipped his shoulders and pressed his head into her sternum, shaking it. He held her hips, and Leia stroked her fingers through his hair. He drew back after a moment, and shrugged, accepting her decision. He didn't want her to go. He also knew there was no way in hell he'd change her mind.

"Luke know you're on your way?" he asked gruffly. "You need me to take you?"

She shook her head.

"I'll take the speeder," she murmured. "How did your talk with Vada go?"

Han nodded. He smiled tiredly.

"Went good," he said huskily. "She's, uh…she's a scared little kid," he said. "Think I made it a little better. Maybe."

Leia touched his jaw.

"I'm sure you did."

She paused.

"It she still awake?" she asked. When Han nodded, Leia swallowed hard. "Do you think she would mind if I said goodnight?"

Han hesitated. He sat back on his heels, and then he stood up slowly, taking a seat next to Leia on the bed.

"Uh," he started. "Um, y'know, Sweetheart, maybe…leave 'er alone for tonight," he said gently. "She's okay. She's just…sore, I think. I made it clear you wouldn't really – "

Leia rested her hand on his thigh.

"It's okay, Han," she said. "You're making the right call, I think," she added. She looked up at him proudly. "Keep doing that sort of thing. Making the calls for her when you think its best."

Han nodded. Leia looked down at her hand again, flicking at the nails.

"There's one more thing," she said tiredly, glancing back up. "If we are going to fight for Vada, you and I, um, together," she said. She took a deep breath. "She'll need to know about Vader."

Han blinked hard, drawing away sharply.

"What? She doesn't – "

"She needs to know that's part of my history," Leia said. "I wouldn't keep it from any other children I had," she added. "I know she's below your planet's age of choice but…on a personal level, if you and I are her choice…tell her."

Han swallowed hard. He nodded slowly – but he filed the request away for later. That was a whole different thing, a whole world to navigate he couldn't face yet. He stared at Leia's profile, and leaned over, drawing her close, his hands on her jaw lightly, and pressing a firm, possessive kiss on her lips.

She reached up to take his hand, squeezing his wrist hard, feeling the thrum of his pulse in her hand, and she tried to keep her lips from trembling under the kiss – there would be time to cry later; right now she wanted to convey how sure she was that this was the right thing to do.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

"Sunrise Shadow"

Luke's apartment was cozy and unassuming. He hadn't been in it for very long. He'd been content with his bunk in the military barracks for most of the time after the sack of the Empire and the political reform of Coruscant, but he'd been persuaded to get his own place when slowly, most of the others had found theirs. Wedge and Hobbie and Gavin and Jansen – the old crew all holed up in their own places, each of Rogue Squadron claiming they needed their privacy.

Women, Luke had noted, snorting. They all needed a private place for their women. Though to date, the only woman Luke had had over to his apartment was his sister, and that was fine by him. He didn't have much of an interest in the promiscuous frivolity his cohorts were enjoying now that the war, and constant threat of death, had ended; he was still trying to find his purpose, and create his framework for the new way of the Jedi.

He wanted a quieter path, a calmer path, for now at least – though he was happy to temper some of his reclusiveness when Leia asked him for help. She so rarely asked anyone for help, though she was much better at it since she'd started her relationship with Han. He jumped at the chance to be there for her. He wanted to have the sort of close relationship they should have had growing up, which they'd been deprived of when they were separated.

He knew she must be having a difficult time right now. He was aware of the situation with Han's little daughter, but other than telling him about it, and inviting him over for dinner a few times to get to know her a bit, he was being kept at arm's length – just as everyone else was, probably for Vada's sake, more than anything else.

When she commed him to ask if it was alright if she crashed with him for a few days, he was earnest in his agreement, offering to pick her up, not asking too many questions – he just fervently hoped nothing irreparable had happened between her and Han. When she arrived, she was overtired and alert, but calm, and Luke breathed a sigh of relief.

He helped her settle in, gave her a tight hug, and Leia accepted it gratefully, lingering for longer than she usually did in the embrace. She smiled at him, and answered affirmatively when he asked if she'd like some tea. She was too on edge to go straight to sleep, and it was so late now, anyway, that she might as well just stay up until the bone-deep exhaustion set in.

She could arrive at work late tomorrow. It would give Mon another reason to shake her head in disappointment, but Leia didn't care. Her work was not suffering. Her work was where it should be, and she was confident in her decision to take some steps back – she needed to focus on the personal connections, and the personal stability, right now. That she might neglect them, even a little, to throw herself whole-heartedly into the new political order, was unpalatable to her, because she'd already spent so much of her youth doing that.

She needed her work, yes; she also needed people, and places, to come home to.

She was grateful for Luke's heartfelt hospitality, and she was amused when, even though she'd agreed to tea, she found him in the kitchen ladling soup into bland cups. She gave him a patronizing look.

"Luke," she said softly, crossing her arms. "I already had dinner."

"This isn't supper," Luke said firmly. "It's a soul snack."

"A soul snack?" Leia quoted.

"Sure," Luke said, stirring the pot on his stove. "Aunt Beru used to make it, with root vegetable broth and medicinal herbs. It settles your heart rate and makes you warm," he explained. "She made it all the time, during sand storms, or when crops failed," he added.

Leia watched him, tilting her head.

"I don't…think I knew you could cook," she said quietly.

Luke shrugged.

"Growing up in the desert I learned all kinds of things," he said. "The whole male or female part didn't really matter."

Leia dipped her head, nodding. He held out a rounded little cup for her wiggling it gently so it wouldn't spill, but attempting to entice her with it. She hesitated, and then shrugged, and unfolded her arms, reaching out. She took the cup of soup, and held it gingerly in both hands, raising it to test the scent.

"Smells good," she murmured.

Luke nodded.

"I made tea, too," he said. "Go sit down. I'll bring stuff in," he encouraged.

Luke kept nodding at her, shooing her, essentially, and Leia gave him a warm, half smile and hugged her soup a little closer, nodding. She inclined her head, starting to ask for a spoon, and Luke waved his hand.

"Spoons ruin the experience, you slurp it," he said.

Leia gave him a dignified, but amused, glare.

"I have never, in my life, slurped - "

"Well, go sit down and do it now," Luke retorted.

She compressed her lips, and shrugged, relenting. She made her way into Luke's neat but sparse sitting room, and made herself at home on the sofa. When she'd arrived, she'd changed into something more comfortable - even for the late night flight over to her brother's place, after her bath, she'd dressed at least partially nicely, in case anyone happened to snap a holo of her. The last thing she wanted on the morning news was a grainy image of her fleeing her apartment while dressed shabbily - it would give rise to all kinds of speculation she had no interest in dealing with on top of everything else.

She curled one of her legs under her, and let the other dangle, resting her cup of soup on the arm of the sofa. Luke didn't even have a Holo in his apartment; the was the barest of living spaces, yet somehow still very cozy. It felt lived in; harmonious. That likely had very much to do with Luke's constant connection to the Force, and the peace he engendered in the space around him.

That, and it was very warm - at first, Leia had thought it was strange that the boy who'd grown up in a desert liked to keep it so toasty in his living quarters, but when asked he'd just shrugged and said it made him feel at home. That she could understand - the smell of pine trees and snow made her feel at home, no matter where she was.

She indulged in a moment of amusement thinking of Han's reaction if she tried to keep it this warm in their apartment. She imagined him dramatically shedding clothing as the day went on, morosely accusing her of trying to murder him or break his spirit by depriving him of cool air. She laughed to herself, and lifted the cup to inhale the aroma of the soup again - it really did smell so good. It had that soothing, homey scent; she could just tell it was a recipe that had been handed down through a family for years, and was well cherished, and she appreciated Luke taking initiative and making it for her.

He followed her into the sitting room a short while later, setting out a tray full of tea, and the sorts of things one fixed tea with, and then he surprised her by sitting on the floor with his back against an armchair instead of taking up residence on the cushion. She raised a brow at him, and he shrugged, lifting his cup to his lip and taking a big gulp of soup.

He smiled.

"Tasted it yet?"

"Enjoying the scent," Leia murmured, finally taking a taste of it. She nodded her head. "Comforting," she murmured. "I am still amazed you can cook."

"Just because you can't," Luke retorted loftily, arching a brow. He tilted his head. "So," he started, getting right to it. "You and Han had a fight?"

Leia sighed, resting her cup in the arm of the sofa again. She tucked some loose hair back with her other hand, and shook her head, biting her lip.

"No," she corrected, lifting her brows. "We didn't, not really," she murmured. "We were having a somewhat...tense discussion about a new development with Vada's," Leia paused, sighing heavily, "custody situation, and I...made a comment that she overheard," she trailed off. "I think it sort of woke Han up to how much she needs him even if he isn't ready."

"Han asked you to leave?" Luke ventured worriedly. "Your own apart - "

"It's our apartment," Leia interrupted gently.

"I thought you were just saying that for the sake of the social workers," Luke said.

Leia shook her head, and shrugged.

"My name is on the lease, if you want to get technical," she said. "But Han stayed there more often than he didn't. I wanted him to stay there. I wanted it to be home. We just didn't have an outright conversation about it. I mean, I don't have a template for how to...ask a man to live with me," Leia broke off, blushing, and reached up to rub her forehead. "Han and I usually just fall into things, and it works, because we work."

She winced a little after admitting that. In every other aspect of her life, it was so unlike her to behave in such an uninhibited way. With Han, though - maybe both of them worried if they scrutinized it too much, if they tried to dictate it, define it, and plan it - it would all fall apart. It already seemed unbelievable that two people, as different as they were in background, fit together so well. Perhaps neither of them was quite willing to question the miracle - except they were forced to, now.

"He did not ask me to leave," Leia said, lifting her head back up. "I made that decision. I think he needs time to bond with Vada, and I think I was interfering with that, even if it was benevolent. He can't keep her on the Falcon," she pointed out.

"True," Han murmured. "Mind if I ask what you said? The comment?"

Leia grimaced, but related it. When he heard it, Luke reflected her grimace, but then gave a sympathetic tilt of his head, and a forgiving shrug.

"You didn't mean what she thought you meant," he comforted, as Leia nodded, earnest for his understanding. "I see what you - that was more about your own insecurity," Luke mused. "About - "

"I know what I meant, Luke," she broke in softly. "She heard it, though, and she can't ever un-hear it."

Luke nodded.

"Something tells me she'll come to understand," he said kindly.

Leia sighed. She shrugged a little helplessly, and stared down at the steaming, cozy cup of soup.

"So, uh - do you mind if I, well," Luke stammered, lifting his chin. "I mean, Han told me, and I've met her but - what's it like?" he asked seriously.

He pressed his shoulders back against the armchair, studying her intently. The question wasn't lurid or overly inquisitive, but showed genuine concern for her state of mind, and she felt some relief at the idea of having an outlet. He tilted his head at Leia curiously, waiting, and rubbed one hand over his knee thoughtfully.

Leia sighed, a breath of frustration hidden in the sound. She leaned back heavily, cocking her head in the same direction he did, tightening both hands around her soup. Her knuckles flashed faintly white, the only sign of her uncertainty, her discomfort.

"Is it...weird?" Luke went on, prompting her.

Leia laughed.

"Of course it's weird," she answered honestly, seizing on the word as a starting point. She tipped some soup into her mouth, munching on the noodles, and then looked down into the bowl. Her reflection shimmered at her eerily, wavy, and unfocused. "She's a very sweet kid, Luke. You've met her."

He nodded.

"I don't live with her, though," he pointed out. "Does she act like Han?" he ventured curiously.

"No," Leia murmured. She compressed her lips tightly. "Han's not acting like himself right now, either," she added. "Looking at it that way, I suppose they are acting kind of similar," she noted dryly.

"Understandable," Luke muttered.

Leia's brows furrowed in worry, and she bit her lip, rolling her head from side to side. She shifted in discomfort, confessions bubbling to her lips.

"I keep thinking that it can't be real," she admitted, "yet at the same time, I accepted it before I even knew what it was. She looks so much like him. Her eyes," she trailed off, her breath catching. Luke stopped rubbing at his knee, listening intently. "He's really blindsided," she finished softly.

Remaining silent for a moment, Luke studied her, trying to gauge her mood. Leia was excellent at guarding her emotions, even as untrained as she was. It was a talent she'd probably tapped into years before, without knowing what it was, just to cope with, and survive, her circumstances.

"Are you angry at him?" Luke asked finally.

He'd been wondering. He'd been curious to know what Leia's true feelings were on the subject, though he was sure they were multifaceted and difficult to define in a word as bland and simplistic as 'angry.'

"No," Leia murmured emphatically. "No, I'm not, I'm," she balanced the cup in one palm and reached up to rub behind her ear self-consciously, the word coming to her abruptly, and before she could control it. She bit her lip, trying to stop it, but it popped out anyway: "Jealous," she confessed quietly, and along with the dread of what Luke might think of her, she felt relief that she had finally found a way to describe it, and a person to confide in.

It wasn't that she couldn't confide in Han. She just didn't think he needed the burden right now.

"Jealous of the little girl?" Luke asked, with no judgment or confusion in his voice. His tone simply brooked clarification, and his presence was soothing.

"No, I - not conventionally," Leia said, frowning to herself. "She's not competition in Han's affections, not at all. We're drastically different types of relationships," she said, with a snort. "No," she muttered vaguely, still slowly realizing her own issues, and at the hesitation, Luke arched his brows; Leia was usually so much more articulate than this. "Jealous that she's not...mine," Leia said finally, the words forced out under her breath. "I guess," she added, flicking her eyes up breezily.

She shrugged, and took a sip of soup to fill the silence, pressing her fingertips into the ceramic to stop her hands from shaking. Did she mean that? Was she upset, jealous - that Han had a child, and she wasn't its mother? Luke looked back at her thoughtfully, and then he smiled. Leia blinked warily, and peered down at her soup as if it were the most interesting thing she'd ever tasted, trying to brush it off.

"Her mother is dead," she said shortly. "So it's ridiculous to feel - "

"But you thought that would be the one thing you and Han would have that he never had with anyone else," Luke guessed, interrupting gently, but knowingly.

Leia fell silent. She ran her finger around the rim of her cup, biting the inside of her lip. Impulsively, based on instinct, she inclined her head, slowly allowing Luke a sort of surrender of a nod.

"I thought so," she said, confirming it to him, and to herself. "But," she hesitated, and then looked up at Luke honestly. "Well, I'm not mad at Han," she said, "and I can't change any of this."

She pursed her lips, and Luke leaned forward a little, setting his soup aside on the table. He pushed it away from the edge and pulled his legs up, leaning against his knees and looking at her seriously.

"I don't think it'd be uncalled for if you were a little mad at Han," he said quietly. "If you need to express that a little...I'd understand. Even if you think the anger is misplaced, or irrational," he encouraged.

She shook her head though, her eyes wide, honest.

"I really don't think I am, Luke," she said. "I've done some soul searching, I've asked myself that, I'm just...not angry. Han's struggling with his own what-ifs, and I understand that, but he didn't do this on purpose. One look at his face through all of this is all I've needed to know how hard it is for him and how much he'd never have wanted this to happen. And even if I do think, 'Sith, Han, how could you be so careless' - well, it takes two to be that careless, and it was years ago, years," she insisted, pressing one hand to her heart. "He was not unfaithful to me and he did not deliberately conceal this, so what emotions are left to me?" she asked.

"That's probably why it's so hard, Leia," Luke offered with a shrug. "You don't know what to feel. You don't know how to feel."

She licked her lips, and then put aside her own soup, suddenly done with it. She sighed, and slid a hand over her mouth, leaning tiredly on the armrest.

"I don't know if I want children," she said, shaking her head. "Since the Rebellion began, I've barely known if I'd make it out alive, and before that, I was a teenager. I think I had a basic assumption I'd have children, but it wasn't a deep thought, or a concrete desire. And yet I find out about her, I find out Han has a daughter, and there's this," she waved her hand at her stomach, wriggling her fingers anxiously, "ache in me, this possessiveness, that screams, no, that was my territory."

She shook her head.

"I don't understand it. It's not logical."

"Not everything can be," Luke said simply.

"Hmmm," Leia hummed hoarsely. "My brother, the philosopher."

He smiled at her placidly, and leaned back, his arms hanging idly over his knees still.

"This doesn't mean you can never have a baby with Han," he said.

"I know," Leia said edgily. "That's another incongruous factor, right now. I don't want - I mean, well," she broke off dryly.

"You don't want a baby with Han," Luke tried.

"I - not right now," she said hoarsely. "I want, I just want...Han, I want to be with Han, and now there's this whole other person who is so sweet, and cute, and funny, but she's a person. She's a whole individual."

"You think it would be easier if she was a baby?" Luke snorted.

Leia looked at him sharply.

"I think all of this would be easier, so to speak, if we were dealing with an unplanned pregnancy of mine, and an infant, that Han and I might not have planned for, but were raising from - from scratch," she said, scrambling for words. "Vada had a mother, and a life, before she came to us, and I am an outsider. Han's a stranger to her, but he's blood, and my role is...what's my role, Luke?" she demanded. "Han can't tell me. I can't decide for him."

Luke compressed his lips.

"Ah," he breathed.

"Ah," Leia repeated, snapping her fingers. "The clarity. This - this issue that came up? It is a custody fight. Vada's grandparents suddenly want her back. More likely, they just don't want Han Solo to have her," she said bitterly. "I need to know what he wants from me. What part he wants me to play. And yet - what does that mean for Vada? I can't - I can't barge in and," Leia shook her head, eyes wide, "flout her mother's memory. Assume that role."

She dropped her head into her hands delicately.

"It has forced all of these decisions into the open that should have been...laid back, and should have unfolded with time. Things like - what Han and I want in life, what our future looks like - it is all on the table now, and in the middle of it, I - he - we need to do what's best for her. Because none of this is her fault."

Luke listened intently, his eyes never leaving Leia. He let her say her piece, then let her take a deep breath, and waited until she was staring at him expectantly, her mouth fixed in a thin, stressed line.

"Well," he said. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I," Leia started.

She swallowed hard, and then pushed her hair back.

"Do not ever repeat this to Han," she said huskily, "but I think I need to admit that I wish, I wish Han did not have a lovechild. I wish this was not the reality. This is not what I wanted my post-war fantasy to look like," she said in a strained, hushed voice. Her face flushed guiltily, and she looked small, her shoulders folding in as she huddled on the couch, "but the fantasy is obliterated, so I am not going to live in it, or dwell on it. I like Vada. I think she's a tough, inspiring little girl, and she's Han's, and I love Han. I've told him so many times that this does not change my feelings for him. He is still the man I fell in love with. No part of me wants to send her back to an orphanage, and regardless of how chaotic things are, and how new this all is, I don't want her going with people who have already rejected her, either."

She bit her lip, catching her breath.

"I'll step up," she said. "I don't know what I'm doing, but I'll raise her with Han. I'll swear to the responsibility in court, public opinion be damned."

Luke nodded intently.

"If you are willing to do that, I think - "

"But don't you think that's insane, Luke?" Leia burst out quietly, eyes wide. "That I can accept it, that I can be so willing to take this on, that I have no animosity towards Han? I know he feels like he robbed me of something, and despite what I told you, I don't hold him responsible for the collapse of an assumption I made that turned out to be wrong."

Luke shook his head, and laughed genuinely.

"No, I don't think it's insane," he said firmly. "I think it reflects exactly who you are. You're compassionate and strong and loving and loyal and if nothing else, your reaction is probably the most wonderful thing Vada could have hoped for from the woman her stranger of a biological father is involved with," he pointed out, "and that's regardless of if she's upset with you right now."

Leia turned her head aside with a shaky sigh.

"What's the worst thing bothering you right now, Leia?" Luke pressed.

She bowed her head, reaching up to cover her face with one hand.

"I don't want Han to push me away," she murmured into her palm, her voice cracking. "And he wouldn't, not out of malice, but because he's so sensitive to, um, things already being hard for me, between nightmares, and losing Alderaan," she tried taking a deep breath, but the words, and the tears, were not stopping now. "I'm afraid he's going to think it's best to protect me, or - we'll lose each other, and not even for any good reason, but I don't want him to think I'm - psychotic for diving in all the way to help him take care of Vada, and I don't know how to do any of this anyway. He's the only man I've ever loved and the only real relationship I've ever had."

Luke chewed on his thumbnail, watching her, and then very slowly got up. He went to sit next to her on the couch, resting his hand on her arm and running it up and down to soothe her while still giving her space. He'd never seen Leia cry like this before. The way she'd been after he told her about Vader was colder, frozen; this was warm, passionate sadness, and he wanted to help.

"Aw, Leia, c'mon," Luke murmured. "We all know Han's the psychotic one."

She laughed through her tears, sucking in her breath.

"I know he and I need a good, long talk," she said, lifting her head and wiping her eyes. "It just feels selfish to focus on ourselves when she's - Vada's seven years old, Luke, and she's so scared. There's this whole other thing now that's not just an evaluation of Han, but the possibility that she gets uprooted again," Leia broke off, shaking her head.

It was another thing she and Han would rapidly have to learn to contend with, balancing their own emotional health, and the health of their relationship - if it persevered - with what was healthiest for a third person. Leia wavered on what was best. Vada wouldn't be emotionally safest in a fractured home where the two caretakers were suffering, but she couldn't ever feel like she came second to a romance, either - and that was a balance people were supposed to learn when they made the decision to have their own child. A balance to be learned together, slowly, over time - not all at once, confronted with a little girl with a mind of her own, and very real fears to overcome.

Luke slid an arm around her, sitting back comfortably. Leia shifted, and sighed, accepting the comfort, leaning her shoulder into his. She began to wipe at her eyes, and Luke turned his head to watch her with as much empathy as he could find, content to listen, and to support. It had to be so far beyond difficult for both of them, and he was more than willing to be a confidant, and an outlet, for his sister. He'd easily do the same for Han, too, if he needed it.

"You can stay with me as long as you want," he said honestly, his voice soft, and warm. "As long as you need to."

Leia nodded, and took a deep breath. She scrubbed her face with her palm one more time, and scrunched her nose, clearing it quietly. She needed to find a way to navigate this so that she was still there for Han in a legal sense, too, because she didn't want any of the discord between them to affect his chances of keeping Vada with him. She was firm in her conviction - she'd unequivocally swear before a judge in favor of Han's character, and in any capacity they wanted her to as a permanent part of Vada's life.

Han needed some time with just Vada, perhaps just as much as she had needed to give voice to all this chaos in her heart. She turned, and rested her head on Luke's shoulder, closing her eyes tiredly. With so much off of her chest, she simply rested against him, accepting his support and comfort, and letting the exhaustion drain out of her. If she could sleep well tonight, if she could take a step back tomorrow, she might be able to breathe again, to recoup - and she could regain her control. And if Han could harness his uncertainty and insecurity, stable it, and find his own control over his situation, and his responsibility to Vada, they could integrate that control, and they could run this thing - instead of letting it run them.

Han was up early the next morning, unsure if he'd really slept at all. He hadn't even tried going to bed until he received a message from Leia letting him know she was safely settled in at Luke's, and then he'd lay awake listlessly in her bed, sleeping half on her side, going over and over their conversations over the past few weeks.

He'd asked Luke if he'd let him know when Leia went to sleep. Luke seemed reluctant to report on her, but he had agreed, and even after that Han had tossed and turned. Part of it, certainly, was due to being alone with Vada, totally, entirely responsible if something happened to her, or if she needed something, but most of it was his stress over what was happening between himself and Leia, what parts of it were his fault, and how reparable it was.

Or rather, how honest was she being when she said this was only space for Vada's sake?

Leia was an honest person. She didn't lie to him. At least, to his knowledge, she didn't. He believed her – he wanted to. But he also knew how hard this was.

When it was an acceptable hour to emerge from the bedroom and act like he'd slept peacefully, he did, shuffling around the apartment quietly. He stepped up to Vada's door impulsively and put his head against it, listening. He heard no sounds, and assumed she was still asleep, but hesitated to open the door and check on her in case it woke her up.

He scratched his jaw and ran a hand through his hair, yawning as he made kaffe. He sent a message to Chewie asking him to scout out parts to help fix the spare bunk on the Falcon. The heater ought to work, just in case Vada ever traveled on it. She would, wouldn't she? Travel on his ship? He was going to raise her so – she would.

Han stared at the kaffe as it brewed. Raise her, he was going to – his stomach lurched, not unpleasantly, but with nerves. His mind leapt forward, to when Vada was ten, to when she was thirteen to when she was – he widened his eyes, staring blankly in front of him.

Sixteen? Sixteen – she'd be a teenager at some point. Then what would he do? Would that be harder, or easier than it was now? Was it easy now?

He looked up, resisting the urge to start hyperventilating. He grabbed his comm and held it tightly, scanning over last night's message from Luke again.

She went to bed. I fed her soup.

He stared at it for a long time, then scrolled to Leia's comm number on his device and keyed in a message for her. Nothing alarming, nothing bothersome – he hoped – just a good morning. He assumed she would go into work today. He stopped short of asking if he'd see her, because he didn't know what their process was now, what this all meant.

He felt odd, standing here in the apartment. Though she'd left him in it, trusted him in it, it suddenly felt more hers than it had before Vada even appeared, when they'd been informally living together, give or take a few nights, for months.

He tossed his comm onto the counter and poured the kaffe, rubbing his face and lifting the mug to take a drink. The bitterness woke him up some, but it didn't really give him any clarity. He checked the time, felt like he was forgetting something, and then backed up until he was leaning against the counter.

He stared straight ahead of him, and mechanically drank the kaffe, trying to come up with a plan of action.

He needed to file some papers with the Embassy. He knew that. It had been in some of the documents the social workers sent over. He had to formally indicate he was refusing to voluntarily relinquish his rights, which would then give Vada's grandmother time to either rescind her claim, try to negotiate, or fight him. He was pretty sure he knew which one it would be.

He was also thinking – the idea had occurred to him when he was trying to force himself to sleep – that he needed to talk to Rieekan and probably pull his military commission. Just so he couldn't be deployed anymore, though things had slowed down a lot since the final showdowns a few months ago, out in the rim. He was a wartime, emergency general, anyway. He didn't want to plan policy and give orders the rest of his life.

He just wasn't sure how to…go about all of that. It was disturbing, to feel so stunted, and unsure, in the face of how careless, impulsive, and dangerously confident he'd been most of his life. This was so different though – none of this affected just him, there was Leia to consider, and Vada –

And he wanted to consider them. He didn't care how much his life had changed since Hoth, since Bespin, since Endor; he loved Leia, and he wanted to factor her in to every part of his life. He could get himself to a point to do that with Vada, too. He had to – and he was sure that given some time, he'd want to, just as badly.

He felt like he was forgetting something. The apartment was eerie without the flurry of Leia readying herself for work.

"Dad?" he heard Vada call quietly in the hall.

He turned his head.

"Dad? Han?"

He shifted, lifting his chin.

"Kitchen," he said loudly.

Vada poked her head in a moment later, her hair a wild mess, her eyes narrow. She looked a little pale, but seemed relieved when she saw him.

"I got scared you left," she blurted.

He shook his head calmly.

"No such luck, kid," he said. And then, for good measure, added: "Don't call me Han."

Vada ducked her head, blushing, and nodded.

"Okay," she said softly. She rubbed her arms, and leaned against the wall, yawning. She narrowed her eyes a little more, scrunched her eyes, and stared at him. "You look different," she said slowly. She reached up and touched her jaw, then pointed. "Your face is dirty."

Han reached up and ran his palm along his jaw, starting to smile a little.

"It's sunrise shadow," he said gruffly.

Vada arched a brow at him. He turned, set his kaffe down, and beckoned to her, crouching down.

"C'mere," he said. "S'like a beard, 'cause I haven't shaved yet," he muttered, tapping his jaw. "See? It's – "

"Scruffy," Vada giggled, touching the rough hair and then drawing her hand back with a crinkled nose. Han felt a pang at the word, but just nodded. Vada tilted her head. "Can I say something?" she asked.

Han nodded.

"I do not think you should have this beard," she confided.

Han grinned. He straightened back up, and folded his arms. Without thinking about it, he shrugged, and said:

"Leia doesn't like it either."

Vada folded her arms, tucking her hands into her sides nervously, and chewed on her lip. She looked away, and just nodded without responding. She reached up and touched her hair self-consciously.

Han cleared his throat.

"So, uh," he started. "I promised breakfast, right? Corellian style?"

Vada looked back at him, and brightened, nodding. She unfolded her arms, and swung them behind her back.

"Do you have any cocoa milk, maybe?" she asked.

"Uhh," Han drawled, pushing forward and going to rummage through the cabinets. "Lemme check," he said, pushing things around – plenty of tea, honey, other kaffe mixes from other planets. He found no cocoa milk, though. "Hmm. Sorry," he said, looking down as he shut a cabinet. "But I can buy some, easy. You want me to?"

Vada shook her head.

"No, I was just asking if it was here already, you don't have to – "

"S'okay," Han said. "You think of stuff you want, you can ask. Worst I can say is no, right? And I'll prob'ly say yes, 'cause I don't know what I'm s'pose to say no to," he rambled.

Vada listened to him, and didn't answer right away. Then she shrugged.

"Um," she said quietly. "There's worse things you can say than no," she informed him quietly.

Han hesitated, shuffling his feet as he looked down at her. Impulsively, he crouched down again, and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah," he agreed, understanding where she was coming from. Her greatest fears centered on him telling her she had to leave, so in the grand scheme – there were worse things to hear. "You're right. But, uh, I'm gonna try to make sure 'no' is the only bad thing I ever say, okay?" he tried.

Vada studied his face. She smiled faintly, and nodded. She licked her lips, taking a deep breath.

"Dad," she said quietly, in Corellian. "Please don't let the old crone take me," she requested, and then winced. "That's what Mommy called her."

Han swallowed hard. His mouth went dry, and he felt his chest constrict – not just because of the raw, unfettered fear on Vada's face, but because he realized again the gravity of the situation, the weight on his shoulders – he needed to be found fit for her; even if he was still struggling to handle himself as a father, he knew he was better than her alternatives. He had to be.

He squeezed her shoulder.

"Want me to be honest with you?" he said finally, trying it out.

Vada nodded.

"The court…is gonna decide that," he said gruffly. "I don't wanna make you a promise and then somethin' happens and you think I lied to you, or you can't trust me. But I'm not gonna let anyone take you, got that? They'll have to drag you away if they want you. Said I was gonna fight, and I mean it. I'm gonna do everything I can to keep you here," he paused, and then something occurred to him. "Know what? Even if it means I gotta keep filin' appeals 'til you're old enough to choose."

Vada inched closer to him. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then drew back abruptly, and just nodded, relief washing over her face. She hesitated, and then glanced down at her feet.

"I can speak," she said.

"I know," Han said, rocking back on his heels, and tilting his head. "You're not a baby."

"No, I mean…I can speak. I can say what I think of you," Vada clarified, "in court. I can not choose, maybe, but the age to…say if you're being treated nice, to be talked to by the judge…is five. If the judge talks to you and thinks you are pretty mature, maybe they take it into account."

Han cocked his head.

"Is it?" he asked. "How'd you know?"

Vada shrugged.

"I scan-searched my Holopad last night."

Han smirked a little. He stood up slowly, sliding a hand into his pocket. Smart kid. Smart – but the minute she said it, suddenly, some alarms went off in his head. He frowned a little, and nodded.

"S'good to know," he said slowly. "But, uh," he cocked a brow. "I gotta put locks on your Holopad. Y'know…parental," he said, the word strange in his mouth, "locks."

Vada sighed dramatically, and shrugged.

"Mommy never did," she informed him, swaying on her feet. "But…I think the court might like if you did."

She smiled at him shyly, and Han nodded.

"I'll start breakfast," he said. "Go, uh," he paused, thinking – he usually just observed, was there to talk, during the morning routine; Leia directed it – was he forgetting anything? Was there a real routine yet…? He grunted. "Brush your teeth and…put clothes on," he suggested. "And bring me that Holopad," he added.

Vada beamed, and turned on her heel, dashing off. Watching her, Han felt a surge of pride, followed by some burgeoning confidence – and he turned to the counter, snatching his comm into his hand. Regardless of the other things between them right now, he felt an irrepressible urge to tell her.

He typed out a short message to Leia, bragging on himself a little – thought it'd be a good idea to content lock Vada's electronics.

He shoved the thing aside just as quickly, not interested in morosely waiting for a response from her. He had never been that type. He was never going to be that type. He –

The comm pinged, and he had it in his hand again so quickly his head spun, and he turned around a little sheepishly as if checking to see if anyone watched him react that way. Satisfied that he was alone, he glanced down at the incoming missive.

From Leia – Good call, Han. Accidentally saw a Mandalorian blue film when I was her age. Never recovered.

Han grinned, a little encouraged. He tucked the comm into his pocket, and started turning on the stove, and getting out everything he needed. His first morning alone with Vada – after his first big talk alone with Vada – was going pretty well after all. And if he felt better about this, he'd feel better about asserting what he needed in partnership with Leia.

He mixed hot cake batter, and then let the burners simmer, getting some juice out for Vada. She came back in a few moments later, her hair still a knotty mess, and tied up haphazardly, but her pajamas forgotten in favor of a more casual day outfit.

Something Leia had bought her, Han noted.

He watched her climb up on the stool that was sort of her place now, and passed the juice to her. She took it, took a sip, and then cleared her throat, looking around.

"Where is, um," she began softly, "Leia?"

Han did notice that she had dropped the 'miss' again. He turned to the stove, pouring out some of the hot cake mix onto the griddle, thinking about how to answer. He poked at the mixture, smoothing the edges with a spatula, and then he set aside the mixing bowl.

"She's at Luke's," he said finally, hoping he sounded nonchalant. "You know, her brother."

He heard Vada laugh softly.

"Yes, I remember who Luke Skywalker is," she said. "He is very famous."

Han turned and shot her a wounded look.

"Well, you are famous, too," Vada said hastily.

Han winked at her. He turned back to the stove, and steeled himself.

"When did she go there?" Vada asked. "Last night? Or way early this morning?"

"Last night," Han said.

He didn't elaborate.

"You want two?" he asked. "Or just start with one?"

"One," Vada answered. She paused. "May I have some fruit?"

Han nodded. He turned to the icebox and opened it, taking out what was left of some he'd bought last week. He held up a few options, and Vada chose a Jogan fruit. He tossed it to her, and then turned back to flip a hotcake. Vada focused on it, plucking at the peel, and letting Han give his attention to the hotcakes.

He could feel her watching him, but couldn't think of anything to fill the silence, so he cautiously let it be. He hoped he wasn't coming off as angry with her – he wasn't angry with her at all.

"You grab that Holopad?" he abruptly.

"Oh, I forgot," Vada said, grimacing. "I will get it."

She scrambled off the stool, and went to fetch it. While she did so, Han fixed the hotcake with the correct toppings to make it truly Corellian, and doled it out onto her plate. When she returned, she smiled at the sight, and handed over the electronic.

Han turned the burner down, and leaned against the counter next to the stove, making quick work of the systems until he could bring up the locking options. He set the algorithm, and then when prompted for a password, keyed in Leia's Life Day so it would be easy for him to remember.

He was also fairly sure Vada didn't know Leia's Life Day.

"How do you know how to do that?" Vada asked.

Han finished what he was doing, and set the Holopad back in front of her for later. He shrugged.

"Dunno, s'kind of like programming my ship's computers," he said, "or fixin' the navigation systems," he added. "Learned stuff 'cause I had to. Or learned to figure it out."

Vada nodded. She took a long drink of juice, and went back to her breakfast.

"Food okay?" Han asked.

She nodded again.

"You are a good cook," she said. She took a few more bites, and then set her utensils down, staring at her plate. She sighed, and looked up at him, and Han shifted nervously, narrowing his eyes.

She looked like she was on the verge of something serious, and he prepared himself for it.

"Sure it's okay?" he asked.

Vada nodded. She rubbed her arm.

"Um," she began. "Is Leia…coming back for breakfast?" she asked.

Han folded his arms. He hesitated, and then he shook his head.

"Nah, she's at work by now, probably," he said, as easily as he could. "She's," he cleared his throat, "gonna stay with Luke for, uh," he fumbled for the right time to say, "a couple days," he decided lamely.

Vada sat back a little, eyeing him warily, and he shrugged, trying to make it seem like nothing. She blinked at him slowly, unconvinced by his light, cheery tone. Han tried to change the subject.

"How'd you sleep last night? I was kinda worried about – "

Vada drew one knee up onto the stool with her, hugging it tight. She rested her chin on it and stared at him, and the look on her face cut him off. He hesitated, the air tense, and Vada scraped her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Dad?" she said, though she already had his attention; she was looking right at him. She looked at him nervously, her eyes wide. She switched back to Corellian.

"Why are we staying in Leia's apartment if she isn't?" Vada asked quietly. Despite her attempt at control, her face flushed and her lower lip shook. She stared at him with dread rushing through her. Had they broken up last night, while she was sleeping? Had she -broken them up?

Han grappled for an answer, staring at her. What was appropriate, what was too much?

"She doesn't think you should sleep on the Falcon," he said – truthfully.

Vada clutched her knee, swallowing hard.

"So, um, if you had your own place, she'd have kicked you out…to there?" she mumbled. "Because of me."

Han cocked his head to the side, and shook his head slowly.

"Vada," He began awkwardly. "Leia staying somewhere else for a couple nights has nothin' to do with you."

Vada rubbed one of her eyes, looking away.

"Yes, it does," she argued softly.

And Han struggled, out of his element. He ran up against a wall, and felt frozen. He had no idea how to explain that it did have something to do with Vada, but probably not in the way that she thought. He reached up to rub his jaw, looking to the side, frowning deeply as he wracked his brains.

"Vada," he muttered, looking back at her after he said her name. "Leia wants me'n'you to have some time to get to know each other," he said finally. That was the truth, so what was wrong with saying it? "And…this is our apartment. It's my place, too."

Leia had told the social workers that. Leia had told him that – he might as well start affirming it; start living it.

He cleared his throat suddenly.

"And, um, yours," he added.

Vada looked at him skeptically.

"You got that room, don't you?" Han retorted, when he saw the look. "I was serious when I told you I heard Leia say she wants you to stay here, too."

Vada looked at her knee, and poked it listlessly.

"But she left," she said, and then looked up with wet eyes. "Did you break up?" she asked shakily. "I would feel so bad. And everyone would hate me. The whole galaxy, they like you being in love. The Holos – "

Han shook his head.

"No," he said dryly. "We didn't. We didn't break up," he said, almost hoarsely.

That was the truth, too, but just hearing the words, considering the possibility – kriff, it was devastating. He couldn't stand thinking about it.

"Don't, uh, don't worry about me and Leia," Han said gruffly. "She just wants you and me to have some time," he repeated. It was his job to concern himself with his relationship, anyway, wasn't it? Sure as hell wasn't a problem for a little girl – and she definitely shouldn't worry about what a bunch of nosy citizens thought about her part in all of it.

"She's still gonna come over and stuff," Han said impulsively. He internally cringed at himself, but then, he also felt a little defiant – if Vada wanted him to, he'd ask her to come over for a little while tonight. He'd take those steps, he'd take initiative – that's what she wanted, wasn't it? "She'll still talk to you and do your hair," he added.

He shrugged.

"She just, y'know, needs to ask you to forgive her," he said, thinking about Leia's guilt. "Think she'd want to say her own thing to you, 'bout not meanin' what she said last night."

Vada nodded, sitting up a little straighter, but still cautious.

"You know, I was thinking," she said quietly. "She doesn't need me to practice on. She's, um, she is like the whole galaxy's mom."

Han burst into a grin, snorting.

"Yeah, you tell her that," he said.

He noticed when it was the two of them, and Vada was speaking a Corellian-Basic portmanteau based on what was easiest for her to express herself, she was incredibly well spoken. It was only when she stuck solely to Basic that her accent was pronounced, and her words were mixed up in odd orders.

Han turned to glance at the stove, and also noticed that Vada was only halfway through her first hotcake. Subtly, he turned off the burner, figuring she wouldn't want another. He folded his arms, and watched her perk up a little, picking up her fork.

"You got your interview comin' up, don't you?" he asked. "With one of your social workers?"

She nodded, frowning.

"Nervous?" he asked.

Vada shrugged.

"I don't think so. I just don't want to say anything wrong. Or stupid. Or anything that makes them think you should not be fit," she admitted. She glanced up at him. "I can tell them lots of good things about you. To make sure."

Han gave her a half-smile.

"Just tell the truth, Vada," he answered. "Don't want 'em to think I forced you to say anythin' one way or another."

She smiled back. Han reached to the side, and picked up his kaffe, ignoring that it had gotten cold and stale. He took a drink anyway, taking a deep breath, and allowing himself a moment of relief, and of pride. Breakfast down, another kind of heavy conversation down, and the world hadn't ended – and he'd spoken to Leia this morning – things might be –

Vada suddenly bolted upright, her back rigid, and gave a little yelp. Han nearly dropped his mug, baffled, but managed to hold onto it. He did slosh cold kaf all over the floor and his hand, and jolted forward incredulously.

What the hell - ?

"Dad!" she gasped, her eyes wide. "I'm supposed to be at Academy!"

Han stared at her, unblinking, kaffe dripping off his knuckles. It suddenly occurred to him what he'd been forgetting – Vada hadn't been setting an alarm, Leia had been waking her up. He'd just let her sleep in until she felt like making an appearance, and it was damn near halfway through the morning –

"Shit," he swore impulsively, and then winced, grumbling at himself. "Let's, uh, go, let's – I can write a note, I – shit," he said again, rolling his eyes. Hastily, he waved his hand at her, nearly throwing aside his kaffe in the process. "Yeah, okay, maybe leave this out of your interview," he muttered.

Vada scrambled off the stool and dashed for her shoes and bag, and Han reached up to rub his palm over his face, groaning – with his luck, they'd get a shot of him unshaven and looking unkempt, and that'd be bad news for Leia and – well, Vada had a hard night, anyway, so –

"Hey, Viddy?" he yelled, the nickname coming out of its own accord. He let it, and closed one eye, well aware that what he was about to suggest was probably not what Leia would recommend he do – "You wanna just skip today?"

He was supposed to be bonding with her, wasn't he? And what the hell was the point in a routine right now, if hanging over their heads was the treat it would all be ripped away anyway.

He heard silence, and then the sound of hyper footsteps coming back, and he pushed away from the stove, grinning, a half-cocked idea already forming in the back of his mind.

Though she didn't speak Shriywook - or really understand it at all - Vada decided it didn't take a genius to figure out that when he saw her walk onto the Falcon with Han around lunch time, Chewbacca immediately asked:

[Should she be in school?]

More than anything else, Han's defensive, slightly offended reaction to the incomprehensible growls Vada heard gave it away. He glared at his co-pilot, scowling, and started giving excuses as Vada hopped through the main hold and took a seat on the edge of the Dejarik booth patiently, grinning from ear to ear at her father's protestations.

"Yeah," Han retorted edgily. "Maybe. Should she? Funny question, Chewie, I wasn't in school at her age, and I'm fine - "

[I thought Leia got her into a nice art school.]

"Listen, pal, we're takin' a day off because - "

[You forgot to take her, didn't you?]

Han scowled at him pointedly. He gestured at Vada.

"Is she your cub?" he demanded.

[No, but - ]

"Then mind your own business," Han interrupted loudly.

Chewbacca blinked at him balefully, then turned and looked to Vada. He put a hand over his heart in greeting, and inclined his head, growling at her warmly, and softly. She waved at him.

"Do not be mad, Chewie," she said in Basic. "I forgot to remember about Academy, too," she said earnestly. "I am not used to having a nice school and all that," she explained.

He drew back his lips in a Wookiee smile, and then turned back to Han.

[I do not believe that the Princess also forgot about school,] he pointed out.

Han was conscious of Vada watching them, well aware she couldn't understand Chewie, and cognizant of how she might misinterpret a one-sided conversation. He shrugged idly, brushing off Chewbacca's fishing, and answered as lightly as he could.

"S'just me and Vada this morning," he said. "Leia wants us to spend some time together."

Chewbacca eyed him narrowly, then made a scoffing sound in the back of his throat. It was not suspicious, necessarily, but he seemed to sense Han was not giving him the whole story, and resolved to ask later. Instead of pursuing it, he nodded at his friends' attire, folding his arms and cocking his head in amusement.

[Why are you dressed up?]

Han looked down at his clothing self-consciously. He'd dragged his military dress uniform out of Leia's closet. It had languished there since a ceremony a few months ago that celebrated a major victory, one Mon Mothma and the rest of the provisional government considered to be the last real battle that signified a new galactic era. All heroes of the Rebellion had been honored, and Han had been issued the official uniform specifically for it, as he'd worn his usual attire during most of his command situations since Endor. He had refused to ever wear it again, citing how frilly it looked, and how stiff it was, despite Leia repeatedly tell him he looked attractive in it.

Clearing his throat, Han opened the jacket and pulled a thin metal casing of docufilms out of the inner pocket, showing them to Chewbacca. He flicked his finger against it, listening to it make a ting noise, and then tilted his head at Vada.

"I got to go down to the Embassy," he said gruffly, "maybe the Justice Center, too," he added. "File some custody stuff," he muttered, not sure what else to call it.

He'd decided not to waste any time in that respect. Even if he had to fumble his way through it, and he had no clue what he was doing, and looked like an idiot, it'd probably make Vada feel better to know he was serious, and it would hopefully help him gain some control and understanding over the next parts of the process. The idea of a stuffy courtroom, and all the legalese and mind-numbing bantha fodder that came with it, gave him a raging headache - but he had to do it. When he was going through everything he had on Vada this morning, and trying to find out what he needed to file a counterclaim, he realized how much administrative work Leia had been doing while he moped around, or made half-assed, nervous conversation with his daughter.

There were a lot of documents she had read and organized after just pointing out where he needed to sign, and he hadn't noticed.He knew that sort of thing focused her and got her head clear faster than anything else, but it was still a lot of labor on her part during a time when he had been less than reliable for her emotionally.

"You mind watchin' her for a little while, pal?" Han asked. "I don't think it's a good idea for me to drag her with me, 'cause it'll be boring."

[And the Holos might catch sight of you letting her skip school,] Chewbacca pointed out dryly.

"Yeah, that too," Han agreed with a snort. "Look, I know that ain't my best decision, but it's my decision, and I don't want it reflectin' bad on me or Leia for stupid reasons," he argued edgily. "Vada' still settlin' in, and gettin' to know me, and we had kind of a...tough night, last night," he muttered.

Chewbacca tilted his head thoughtfully, and looked to Vada, studying her. She smiled back at him contently, leaning into the back of the booth, and he nodded easily.

[Of course I will keep her safe,] he said. [You understand that as she is your blood, my debt to you applies to her as well?] he asked.

Han shifted uneasily.

"You've repaid that debt a bunch, Chewie, y'know I hate talkin' about - "

[It is for life, Cub. That is why it is called a Life Debt,] Chewbacca snorted gently. [And it extends to Vada].

Han tilted his head slightly at the use of Vada's name - or rather, the translated moniker Chewbacca had chosen for her. It was a possessive tone, but it sounded like it referenced Vada's eyes as well, and Han frowned, trying to place it.

"What're you calling her?" he grunted. "You're calling her my - my eyes?"

Chewbacca nodded.

[She has your eyes. So, I call her 'Han's eyes.' As I sometimes translate Leia's name to 'Han's heart.'].

"Huh," Han said under his breath, his neck flushing.

Vada leaned forward, tilting her head curiously.

"He has a nickname for me?" she asked politely. "Can I know it?"

Han cleared his throat.

"He says you have the same eyes as me," he explained. "So he's callin' you little eyes, like, uh, cub eyes," he said gruffly.

Vada bounced on her seat a little, and sat back, drawing her legs up. She hugged them, and smiled happily at Chewbacca.

"She likes nicknames," Han told Chewbacca.

"Because people who care give nicknames," Vada piped up.

[You are right, little one,] Chewbacca said warmly.

"He says you're right," Han translated.

Vada rested her cheek on her knees, and watched them.

"So," Han said. "'M gonna go do all this, and I don't know how long s'gonna take," he said slowly. "Haven't actually dealt with, uh, these people...alone," he muttered. "Then I gotta check in with Carlist 'bout some stuff, and then it's kinda gonna be the end of the school day, so'm gonna take Vada to the Carnival Sector."

Chewbacca nodded, looking at Han thoughtfully. He seemed shaken, but much more on top of things than he had when he'd first told Chewie about all of this, and he even seemed to be better than he had been a few nights ago, when Chewbacca had again had dinner at their apartment. Under Chewbacca's insightful gaze, Han fidgeted, acutely aware of the assessment, and feeling again a sense of dread as he was confronted once more with exactly how dazed he must have been recently, if everyone was evaluating him so carefully.

Kriff, did the social workers think he was a useless mess, too? Had he already damaged his chances? He swallowed hard.

"She hasn't had anything real fun like that since she got here or, uh, I dunno," he looked over at her, "since Visenya died," he added.

Vada pursed her lips.

"My last life day, with Mommy," she piped up, "she took me to the botanic gardens on the outskirts of Coronet City, with all the fairy-flies and songbirds," she related. "A fairy-fly landed on my ear," she snorted, "but after she died, not so much, um, fun."

"Yeah," Han agreed heavily, looking at Chewie earnestly. "So, I figure I got, uh - two life days to make up for, at least, 'cause I guess for all the others she was with her mom, so she was okay. I got to make good for six, and seven," he said, "before she gets to eight, 'cause," he broke off for a moment, nodding at her, "'cause we'll make that one somethin' else, got that?"

Vada beamed, and Han hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Vada's eighth birthday was outside of the evaluation period - would he have her then? Would they find him fit, would he win this damn custody challenge? Or would this be a broken promise and a dashed hope, and she'd instead be trapped in some cold mansion somewhere on Corellia with people who had already made it clear they cared more for posh propriety than family and honor?

Chewbacca chuckled.

[You have a seven-year-old cub,] he reflected. [What were we doing seven years ago?]

Han shrugged evasively. He preferred not to think about what he'd been doing when Visenya was deciding not to tell him she'd had his baby.

"You actin' all shocked now, buddy?" Han griped. "Last I heard you were tellin' me it's a miracle she's the only one I got."

"I have siblings?" Vada asked slyly.

Han turned to look at her, pretending to scratch his chin with serious thought.

"Coupla weeks ago I'd have said hell no, but then I got you," he trailed off, and Vada giggled.

He shook his head, and winked at her. He was pretty confident there couldn't be any others. When he'd gone over it and over it in his head, he knew he'd been pretty damn careful in that department, even if he'd not analyzed the reasons. Unlike some men, he hadn't relied on his women to take care of it, or trusted them blindly for the sake of a so-called better experience; he'd watched his back, and been skeptical, probably subconsciously wary of treating someone as poorly as his own mother had been treated. Still, he obviously wasn't perfect, he'd fucked up somewhere, and the timing with Visenya made the most sense for a slip-up. What he'd told Leia was true; he'd been twisted in knots and raw over Bria Tharen's death, drunk more often than usual, dabbling in the spice he'd started running, and careless - searching to feel something again.

Not that he'd ever tell Vada that was the legacy of her conception.

He cleared his throat, and shuffled his feet.

"You'll, uh, feed her lunch and all that? Don't let her get hurt?" he asked.

Chewbacca nodded sagely.

[I will keep her safe,] he promised, his eyes moving over Han's face. He wanted to ask more about Leia, but he sensed Han didn't want to talk about that, even in one-sided conversation, with Vada listening. Something must have happened, though Chewbacca couldn't imagine what. If it was something that couldn't be fixed, he assumed Han would be more devastated, even incapable of functioning - yet he seemed fairly stable, so Chewie decided his questions could wait.

As if sensing what his friend was mulling over, Han gave him a slow, grateful smile.

"I got things under control," he said firmly.

He said it out loud, bravely, to convince himself as much as to convince Vada and Chewie.

"Okay," Han said, taking a deep breath. He turned to Vada. "I know you don't understand each other. Or, uh, you don't understand him, so I got to trust you to behave so there's not an issue where Chewie's trying to tell you somethin' and you don't - "

"Um," Vada interrupted softly. "I, actually...had an idea," she said.

She let her backpack slide off her shoulder, and opened it, taking out her holopad. She laid it flat, and tapped a few things to pull up a program, and then pulled out a stylus. She blushed, and glanced between Han and Chewie.

"Chewie, you know Aurebesh, right?" she asked.

Chewbacca waved his hand breezily, nodding. He read most of the Falcon's diagnostics in Aurebesh.

"I have a program that teaches kids words with the Aurebesh, but I already know it," she said earnestly. "It is for tiny kids." She tapped the stylus. "I know this is maybe too small for you, but you could tap words to say, if we need to," she explained hesitantly. "Or, also, there are language programs to find," she said, shifting to sit on her legs, and sit up a little straighter. "The Shriyywook ones are not so good, because humans are dumb, and the data is Imperial, so they thought non-Human languages are no use, but if you growl at the speaker, it kind of translates."

She moved her fingers quickly, and then paused, hesitating. She cleared her throat, and then said:

"Hello," very clearly into the mic deck of her device.

A split second later, a mechanical voice repeated the word in a different language.

Han raised his eyebrows.

"What language was that?" he asked.

Vada gave him a funny look.

"Alderaanian," she said. "You don't know 'hello' in Leia's language?" she asked skeptically.

Han blinked, taken aback. He shifted, folding his arms, and shrugged, hesitating.

"Uh, well," he said hastily. "She, uh...doesn't really speak it, Vada," he muttered. "Don't think I've ever heard her speak it, since," he trailed off.

"Oh," Vada whispered, blushing. She made a note not to say anything in that language then, just in case it made Leia sad. It had been a good idea, probably, to learn a little, but not if Han said she had stopped using it. She cleared her throat nervously. "Well - see, Chewie, try it," she encouraged, changing the settings.

Chewbacca strode forward and took the Holopad. He peered at it curiously, and then hesitantly ducked his head and spoke into it. A longer moment later, the mechanical voice came back, and translated into Basic:"food you want eat, small person."

Han snorted, delighted.

"He was tryin' to ask what you want for lunch," he clarified.

Vada giggled, blushing.

"Well, it's silly, but it is only for emergencies, like until I can learn tones and understand - " she began in a rush.

"S'not silly," Han interrupted. "It's smart. Figurin' out a way to talk to people you can't understand? It's smart," he repeated. "Good way to avoid gettin' shot at," he added dryly.

Vada blushed again, but beamed at the praise. Han glanced at Chewie, and the Wookiee grinned from ear to ear, fascinated with the concept. Han reached into his coat to make sure the documents he needed were still there, and then stepped forward, taking a deep breath, and nodding.

"I'm gonna go," he said, and then cocked his head at Vada, smirking. "So, uh, see ya later," he said. "Small person," he added wryly, quoting her little device.

She scrunched her nose at him and nodded.

"I'll stay hidden on the ship," she promised. "So noooooo one knows we both forgot about school." She shrugged. "Oops," she said breezily.

Han impulsively reached out and ruffled her hair. It was still kind of a mess - he'd very carefully attempted to deal with it this morning, and quickly realized he was going to make the whole damn thing worse. He needed a crash course in how to help, preferably soon, from Leia. The knots were a vivid reminder of last night's troubles, and he sobered a little, steeling himself for the upcoming task. For a moment, he felt more like he was going into battle than he ever had during the Rebellion.

Though she had made the deliberate decision to remove herself from the nucleus of Han and Vada's developing relationship, Leia did not disentangle herself from the practical issues at hand - for she meant what she said; she was not leaving him. She was not quitting, she was merely - letting things breathe, because one thing she had learned from physical combat was that making time to breathe made a world of difference in reaction time, intelligence of reaction, and outcome of the fight.

Perhaps an odd metaphor for the current situation, but one that resonated with her.

Even if she had wanted to take a few days to shut herself off to the unforeseen developments in her life, she couldn't. In a somewhat typical turn of events, she'd arrived at her office, neatly put together, but fresh from Luke's apartment, rather than her own, to find that this morning was one she'd designated as the time she'd provide a statement to the vetted Nubian journalist regarding Han, his daughter, and herself. She was loath to make a statement at all, but she felt calm, circumspect acknowledgement was best all around, as it would put it on record that Leia was aware and involved, that Han was committed, and that Vada was being protected.

Leia had felt that way prior to the tensions that had arisen last night, and she particularly felt that way now, when there was instability clawing at her relationship, and in the midst of that, this monster looming to try and dig her claws into Vada. Dismayed as she was to find that meeting reminder glittering in her timetables this morning - dismayed that she'd have to address her private life for the public, yet again, and subject both Han and Vada to more scrutiny and speculation - she was also a little vindictively relieved. Yes, here was a chance to reassure herself, to reassure both of them, in a way, that her taking time away meant nothing, it was nothing more than she said, it was so he could spend time with Vada.

It was; she was emphatic with herself about that, and she'd been honest with him when she told him that. None of her feelings for Han had faded, and she was not conflicted in what she wanted - not really. She still desired - as truly as she'd told Luke - to just integrate Vada into their lives and try to figure it out from there. It was just - with the custody challenge, and how absolutely necessary it was to be sensitive to Vada's insecurities, and her adjustments - it was difficult. It was complex.

And though Leia did not consider herself corrupt, or even particularly given to deception - at least in a civilized body politic - she knew that with Han's background, there were certainly ways this could go awry, and she didn't want to contribute to that in any way, so while maintaining that she and Han lived together while she stayed with Luke, or while they muddled through tensions and growing pains, might be duplicitous, she considered it necessary.

She tried to balance truth with half-truths and little white lies, keeping her emotions in check but genuine, and revealing nothing of her future plans. This Naboo-based journalist was a sharp one, but a kind one, respectable, and both nervous and delighted to have been chosen to receive what would be Leia's one and only comment on the topic. Leia had agreed to provide one succinct statement, and allow for two follow-up questions, in a private session, and she sat in on that session now - the journalist standing opposite her as she leaned on the edge of her desk, casually but coolly considering him.

She had learned long ago that sometimes, a casual pose from royalty could disturb another person's sensibilities more than yelling or swearing ever would.

Guarded, Leia watched the journalist, no evidence of the past night's unrest on her face. She was made up and effortlessly coiffed, presentable as usual, and not a soul who had seen her this morning would guess she'd spent half an evening crying on her brother's sofa, and the rest of it sleeping fitfully as she tried to choke down wild, youthful panic.

The tempestuous, passionate sixteen-year-old version of Leia inside of her, the girl she'd never had the privilege of being, tossed and turned and wailed, kicking at rib cage walls and the bricks of her soul, hoarse and breathless - Han and I broke up, we broke up! But they hadn't broken up, and Leia, the logical part of her, the woman she was now - not really that much older than sixteen, but some how, an era more mature, chastised her - you don't even know what a break up feels like; you've never had one.

The anxious, fatalistic part of her, which she kept small and controlled, stubbornly refused to be cowed, and she wondered if the reason why little pieces of her were so on edge was exactly because she'd never experienced the typical dissolution of a romantic relationship. Comparatively, she felt like she'd been through a broke up - what, because she'd slept in a different bed, in a different apartment? Was that so very devastating?

Yes, to her it was. To lose his presence next to her - even if she took it upon herself to put space between them - was isolating and sorrowful; she missed the sound of him breathing, she missed how even in her sleep, she'd known he was there, and sometimes, he'd roll over into her and press against her sleepily, his lips moving as he mumbled to himself in his dreams, the nonsense he whispered turning into accidental kisses scattered over the bare skin of her back.

One night away, and she knew, she knew, she knew, that no matter how hard it was, they had to find a way to overcome the hurdles; it would just be so pointless to let go of everything they had for no other reason than they didn't know how to account for a seven-year-old girl. They were the adults - growing pains, that's really all this was, and Leia fluctuated between feeling infinitely better, after laying some of the grittier aspects of her feelings out for Luke's ears only, and marginally worse, because she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Han was going to bolt.

Not because he didn't love her - because the deepest parts of his scoundrel heart were so tender and conscientious of hurting those he loved, that she worried he would get some idiotic idea that it was best for her if he dragged his sorry ass out of her life, and if he tried it, she'd throttle him - and here she was again, flaring with anger. How to make that man understand that she wanted him, and she didn't give a damn about his past, even if it was now a part of their future?

She had learned quite some time ago that Han's brazen confidence was his armor, protecting him from getting hurt, from feeling small, or not good enough, and the way he showed signs of doubting his worth for her now -

I decide who is worthy of me, Han, she thought angrily. I decide.

Her emotions whirled like this, a storm inside her, even as she appeared so stoic, and she waited patiently for this reporter's follow up questions, unsure what they would be, prepared to speak extemporaneously, curious, and hostile all at once. The galaxy wanted gossip, and she just wanted to build her democracy, and go home and build her life.

The journalist hesitated, his head cocked at an odd angle. Leia considered asking him if he was literate, as he'd been reading her provided statement for what felt like a millennia. She had it memorized - it was one of the few things she had composed entirely herself, without asking cultural experts to take a look, or seeking the advice of her elders, or running it through editors. She was utterly responsible for it -

In response to the rampant popular speculation surrounding the photographs of General Han Solo and a young girl, as well as the circulation of a birth certificate assigning paternity of the child to him, the Office of Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, Premiere Ambassador of the New Republic, provides the following statement from Leia, in her own words: The girl pictured with Han is his daughter, unknown to him until recently. The birth certificate is authentic. She is a minor, unaffiliated with any political party or faction, and is adjusting to her new home. She does not deserve to be subjected to the flurry of invasive Media harassment that often is troublesome even for experienced public figures. Neither Han, nor myself, have any interest in denying the presence of his daughter, or hiding her; however, attempts to contact her, photograph her, or disrespect her privacy in any way will be met with sharp rebukes. She is a child, and has the right to remain unburdened as such.

She had used her own name informally so that the announcement was more personal, and she guessed that was where the journalist was lingering as he savored his chance to ask two question - two questions that had the potential to be so explosive, or so interesting to people -

Leia cleared her throat impatiently.

"Does my statement lack clarity?" she asked finally.

He shook his head, bowing it slowly.

"No, Your Highness," he murmured. He paused, then looked up at her wryly. "I am trying to devise a way satisfy curiosity without also being uncouth," he gestured at his recording data pad, "for the Holos."

"A rarity in your profession, but appreciated," Leia said crisply. "I am happy to provide a statement, more so for the child's sake than anyone else's, but I do need to remind you I do not have all morning to devote to gossip about my personal life, or Han's," she noted. "I hope, at least, that there are more important things afoot."

"Of course, Your Highness," he said, dipping his head respectfully again. He hesitated, then looked up intently. "I'll ask the obvious follow up, then. Your office released this statement, in your own words, apparently on behalf of Han Solo," he noted, quoting her directly, "and in my presence just now, you referred to this issue as an aspect of your personal life, not merely Solo's," he pointed out.

Leia merely inclined her head in a nod of agreement - that was an apt summary of what had just happened, yes. She arched her brows. She would not be entirely surprised if the next question related to -

"Is this at last a confirmation to the press and the public that you and General Solo are engaged in an affair?" he asked.

Leia pursed her lips, her anticipation confirmed. She smiled a little, crossing her arms, and leaning back more heavily on her desk. The tip of one of her shoes brushed the floor as she looked back at the reporter primly, one eyebrow ticking up ever so slightly.

"I would rather you dispense with the term 'affair,' as it implies something contemptible, and my relationship with Han is the furthest thing from that," she returned firmly. "'At last'," she quoted, "also strikes me as unnecessary, as neither myself nor Han owed an explanation to utter strangers, and the public's desire to interpret our concern for privacy as subterfuge is their concern, not mine."

A grin touched the reporter's lips as he made notes on his recording device, likely annotating her body language, her face, the colour of her clothing today - he'd make a name for himself off this quick little personal conference, and Leia didn't begrudge him that. She generally liked Naboo's press corps, and she had her own agenda here as well - she was speaking for Han, not only for those among her peers who doubted him, but for him, and and to him, to reinforce that thought she could have been cavalier about their relationship at anytime, she chose to do it now, even amidst the turmoil, and even after Vada's emergence.

"I - yes, ah, thank you, Your Highness," he said, still making notes, but nodding earnestly. "I appreciate your candor, I - thank you," he said again.

Leia unfolded her arms and placed them behind her, gripping the edge of her desk. She gave a graceful shrug.

"You were permitted two follow up questions," she reminded him.

He used his stylus to scratch his chin, thinking.

"You - I suppose you will draw the line at answering questions about the little girl?" he asked hesitantly.

"That's your question?" Leia asked smartly.

"Off the record, Your Highness."

She tilted her head, and then nodded.

"She's a minor. She really is no one's business, and she did not ask to be thrown into the hands of people who are so popular with the Holo Media," Leia noted shortly.

He nodded.

"Yes, ah, of course - on the record, then," he said, taking a deep breath. He looked up at her intently. "Has this development damaged your af - relationship with General Solo?"

Leia pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. She let the question sit for a moment, though her answer was easy, and took no thought at all. Then, when the journalist began to look nervous, as if she was going to throw him out, and he'd wasted a question, she shook her head simply, and answered:

"No, it has not."

It was the truth, as far as he - and everyone else - was concerned. Damage was not the right word. Infidelity did damage, abuse did damage, lies did damage - Vada was none of those things, and the adjustments and reevaluations she was going through with Han were not damage. Had this changed their trajectory, would it change their relationship - naturally; in some ways. But it did not alter the foundation her feelings for him were built on, and she was unabashed about making that clear to any doubters who kept beady eyes on them - and to Han himself.

They could have issues without them being cataclysmic, irreparable problems. They could - they had to be able - to have struggles, and navigate them, within an enduring romance.

Going a step further, Leia pursed her lips.

"I did not spend my youth fighting for a better galaxy to turn my back on a child who is a victim of circumstance," she remarked mildly. "And to be candid, if I may - which I see by your expression you're eager for," she added dryly. "Han is an exceptional man who has done as much for me as he did for the Rebellion when it was on the brink of fizzling out. I'm sure you can imagine that he and I have both earned the right to demand privacy, especially for her sake."

The journalist nodded.

"Will you confirm that Han's daughter is called Vada Solo Vardalos, as the birth certificate states?" he asked.

"You've been given your quotes," Leia said calmly, shaking her head - that was obviously public knowledge, but she was making it a point not to discuss any details about Vada. Not only for Vada's sake, but for the sake of the courts; she knew that all kinds of dirty tricks could come into play in custody battles, in any sort of family court trials, and she didn't want anything she said or did to be taken as fodder against Han.

"Do you feel - "

"Sir."

He smiled, bowing his head.

"My apologies, Your Highness. Journalistic instinct. Even the good ones press a little."

"Understood," she said mildly. "As it were, your time is up. I have a galaxy to help keep in order," she noted.

He nodded, ending the recording as he made a few more notes. He bent forward at the waist with a respectful bow, and then brought his hand to his head and gave her a small little salute. Without lifting a finger, Leia used a minimal amount of her Force sensitivity to buzz her assistant to open the door and escort the journalist out.

He paused at the open threshold, hesitating, and looked back.

"Princess Leia," he began. "This is - technical, really, but I thought you would prefer terminology - how, ah, should my media outlet refer to Solo? In relation to you."

Leia hesitated, parting her lips. She always, hesitated here, never quite knowing - and her uncertainty had nothing to do with what Han was to her. In truth, she couldn't define his place in her heart, or at her side; in reality, all words seemed lacking. Boyfriend always seemed frivolous and juvenile, something she was past the age of having, and not weighty enough; consort was an insulting remnant of her aristocracy; lover was indelicate, and shallow in a whole different way, paramour, only a fancier version of that - and they hadn't made any promises, so the legal terminology failed her. Her nostrils flared slightly, and a needling thought occurred to her: It would be easy if I could just say 'husband.' The thought was fleeting, and made her giddy, and scandalized, and she kept that all locked inside, still thinking.

For the purposes of all this, she decided, something unequivocal was fair, to again remove the element of shadow to it all. She cleared her throat softly.

"Boyfriend," she offered finally, nodding. "I expect that will translate best across languages. 'Beau'," she suggested, with a slight wrinkle of the brow. "When you write it, use your talents to convey the permanence," she said coolly, "whatever term you decide to use."

He nodded, another smile splitting his face, and then allowed Leia's assistant to lead him out.

"Thank you, Ulixa," she muttered stiffly, nodding as the girl shut the door. She waited until she heard the click, and departing footsteps, and then sighed, her shoulders slumping.

She leaned heavily against the desk for a moment, and then grabbed the Holo remote off her desk, tossing it into the air listlessly and aiming at her wall of Holo projectors as she wandered over to her sofa. With little else to do for the day - two of her appointments had been cancelled, and she was researching the wording of an upcoming treatise for her Diaspora - she set her collection of Holos to various channels to keep an eye on things. Those quotes, she knew, would be out before she could blink.

She collapsed on her sofa, staring at the glittering, flickering images. She was exhausted. She reached idly for the comm in her pocket, turning it over in her hands, thinking of the messages she and Han had exchanged this morning. The quiet, mundane messaging unnerved her - because she and Han so rarely shot each other middling messages over their commlinks. They were more prone to stopping by to see each other during the day, or being so distracted that the activities they'd engaged in came out in a rush when they saw each other in the evening, whispering under blankets, tangled up in each other's skin. The messages seemed cold, but a desperate way to stay connected - one night apart did this?

Mon Mothma was presiding over the senate on one screen - a month ago, Leia would have been there, arguing just as loud and aggressively as everyone else. She'd retreated into her dealings with Alderaan, and she felt better about it. On another screen, a Justice committee was arguing about war criminals, and Leia killed the lights on that screen, unable to stomach it. Her comm buzzed in her hand, and when she glanced at it, she read another innocuous message from Han.

Holo might show us at a carnival later. Did that on purpose. Didn't get lost.

She furrowed her brow, biting her lip, and scanned her fingers over the invisible pad that allowed for typing - Academy?

Han didn't answer immediately.

Yeah, V and I kinda forgot 'bout that, came the response.

Leia slid her palm over her mouth, trying not to laugh. Well, he needed to learn. And with all they'd been through lately - all Vada had been through - a carnival sounded like a good time. Leia tilted her head back, tossing the comm aside to ignore it for a while. The thought of going back to Luke's after work got her spirits down, though that wasn't Luke's fault. Her comm buzzed, but for the moment, she ignored it. She cast her eyes up, and saw one screen showing flashing scroll, and a long lens image of - of Han, she recognized the gait, and back of his head, and the way his military uniform seemed winkled even when it was pressed.

She bit her lip watching - he was outside the Corellian Embassy, Vada nowhere in sight. Likely with Chewie, Leia assumed. The obnoxious, flashing scroll read: General Solo back in uniform; Custody War? Leia snorted grimly at the choice of words. She was sure there were parts of the Vardalos clan that could subtly leak things to the media, as well. In an attempt, if she judged them right, to make things infinitely difficult for Han and Leia, to chase them off, to -

"Bitch," Leia swore out loud as she thought of the custody challenge.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, then chastising herself. She thought of her mother. Breha had been so gentle, so quiet, so beyond reproach, but one of the few times she'd lost her temper was the first time she'd heard her daughter level that word at another woman. Breha Organa had washed Leia's mouth out with soap, impressing upon her, sharply, that gendered slurs were the bane of society. And Leia had tried to learn that lesson, and in so many ways, she did learn it, but so many years away from her kind mother's influence, she'd hardened, and she thought, bluntly, that it was just a fact of life: some women were bitches. Men may not be able to call them that, but Leia could.

Vaella Vardalos, she decided uncharitably, earned it. There was a person on whom Leia could thrust all her untoward, knotted feelings - the woman who had stepped in to complicate things further. Even without the scapegoating, Leia found her easily reprehensible; this was, after all, a woman who had callously paid a fine and sent her own kin to an orphanage rather than care for her, an act of cruelty Leia could neither understand, nor forgive. That she would come back now smacked of political spite, or ego or - Leia wasn't sure what it was.

She didn't care to know.

If Breha were here, she'd remind Leia that by her argument, there were plenty of others who earnestly felt Leia deserved to be called a bitch, and couldn't she see that name-calling was objective and futile, solved nothing, blinded perspective even further, and made things worse? But Breha wasn't here, and Leia was filled with rage and sadness, fear and bravery, and everything in between. She was hot tempered where her beloved mother had been tender and benevolent, and for a long time now, Leia found peace in knowing she would never be as pure at heart as Breha, but striving to be anyway, because actions and intentions mattered.

After a moment, Leia turned her head away, and let her hand snake back to her comm. She picked it up and noted a message from Luke, checking on her - sweet - and another short note from Han: Filed an injunction against Vaella. To fight the custody challenge. She was about to respond with a simple message when she noticed the glimmers that indicated there was still more incoming, and waited patiently.

He said: Need your help, Leia, to win. Need you.

She pressed the comm to her lips, and closed her eyes.

"I'm in," she breathed aloud, and interpreting her effortlessly, the Force took over, and skimmed that message out to Han.

The comm glimmered, then stopped, and whatever he'd been about to respond remained a mystery. Leia set her comm aside for good and ran her hands gently over her face. She got up and returned to her desk, shuffling through some things, taking a deep breath. She had things to occupy her today for sure, work to do, and yet her hand lingered on the dossier she'd pulled on the Vardalos clan - their money, their political leanings, Vaella specifically. She was a Vardalos by marriage, not by blood, which meant using the rule of all those who had married into the elite or the aristocratic, she was crueler, and more obsessed with status than those born to it. The husband - Vito, Vada's grandfather - was a ghost of a mogul, rarely seen in public, behind the scenes; rich, and reclusive.

This was the so-called family that wanted Vada back suddenly, as if they now viewed her as their own. Despite having seen Holos of her gleaned off a simple search, Leia was able to construct a visage for Vaella that was unique and demonic.

Han did need her, and she needed him. Vada needed - somebody, them, anyone to give her a home and keep her safe.

Leia picked up her scheduling document to check some dates - she had a psychological evaluation coming up, did she not? And her personal evaluative interview - didn't Vada have one of those, too? And when roughly was the next home visit -

"Your Highness."

Ulixa's soft, melodious voice came over the desk intercom.

"There's a court legate here asking for an audience."

Leia gazed at the intercom darkly, her eyes rising to the door with irritable trepidation. She remembered the representative that had disturbed the peace in her home a handful of nights ago, and her brows knit tightly, a sour taste filling her mouth. She grimaced, pinching her nose, and took a step back. Instead of responding to allow the intruder into her office sanctuary, she held her head high, and strode to her door, opening it, and stepping out into the antechamber where Ulixa worked.

The assistant winced, and stepped back, folding her arms and bowing. Leia stood there coldly, her glare fixed directly on the very same individual who had stood at her door boldly, shattering peace and privacy, and bringing this aggression and distraction into a place where she and Han - and Vada - were quietly trying to cope with the new normal.

"I believe I was clear with you," Leia said crisply. "You may direct any communication you have for Han Solo - "

"Yes, I recall your speech, Your Highness," the woman interrupted obsequiously, inclining her head, and touching her heart, though somehow managing to make Leia's title sound grotesque.

"Then to what do I owe the pleasure?" Leia asked caustically.

The lawyer touched her hand to her heart again, and then opened her coat and reached into it, drawing out a thin, metallic envelope.

"Our communication is with you," she said, speaking for the Vardaloses. "In light of General Solo's injunction, his, ah, foolish decision to ask for a court hearing, Madam Vaella obtained a subpoena for yourself." The legate bowed her head. "You are being served, Your Highness."

"For?" Leia asked.

The word was icy, unforgiving.

"So that family court may cross examine the woman Vada's father is living with," the legate said, presenting the envelope forward. "To determine decency and suitability for care of a child. You are, after all, no blood relation to young Vada, and there ought to be some concern over whether your girlish slumming with the likes of Han Solo is the material of long-lasting stability for the girl."

Leia blinked.

Ulixa, she noticed, seemed faint, as if she simply could not believe she was hearing someone address Leia Organa in such a way. Leia made a point not to react to it.

Slumming.

Instead of lunging forward and throttling the woman, or dropping to a knee and removing the small, self-defense blaster she had latched to her her ankle and putting a bolt through her smug mouth, Leia simply broke into a thin, polite smile, and held her hand out for the envelope, taking it with as much class and elegance as she could cram into the gesture. She handed it off to Ulixa pointedly, and compressed her lips.

"Your task is finished. You are dismissed," she said.

The lawyer put her hand to her heart grandly, and gave an exaggerated bow, and in a moment of snobbery, Leia hated the new money she worked for, and how crass the industrial rich were, how devoid of the art of aristocracy, and the polished tradition of her own upbringing. She knew the distaste in her was deeper than that, had less shallow origins, and yet she was unable to resist, when the woman began to straighten and turn, offering a word to put her in her place:

"The custom is three steps back, and final eye contact awaiting a nod, before turning your back on a member of a royal family."

The lawyer blinked, but then acquiesced, slowly, and methodically. Leia took a step forward, and touched her shoulder to dismiss her, pausing to catch her eye.

"In the future, should your mistress have business with me, she will discuss it with me in person," she said dangerously. "She may be suing Han Solo for custody, but Han Solo is not the penniless smuggler she thinks him to be," she said, "and he does not stand alone."

The legate did not lift her head for a moment, but when she did, she uncomfortably twitched away from Leia's touch, gave a final head nod, and departed. Leia watched her for a moment, then turned sharply and cleared her throat.

"Ulixa, make sure she scans out of the building," she said shortly. She swept forward, taking the envelope back from her assistant's hand, and headed into her office, her lips compressed angrily. "Get me Vada's academy on the line," she added tensely.

Whatever was in the cards, no one in the Vardalos had custody, or even visitation rights, yet, and Leia was going to make damn sure Vada was insulated from any situation that might result in one of them or their ilk showing up to intimidate her, scare her, or whisk her away - and she'd make sure if it even if meant sending Chewbacca to school with her every day until Vaella Vardalos was missing the arms she was trying to snatch Vada away in.

After he had done what he needed to do, seen whom he needed to see – Han made good on his suggestion. He went back to the Falcon, picked Vada up, and took her to Coruscant's festival sector. It was comparable to Corellia's Cax City Avenue, though more ostentatious, elaborate, and himself wasn't in any particular danger and neither, really, was Vada.

It was kind of nice to see the way Vada's face lit up when she saw the carnival spread out before her. When Han told her getting tokens and tickets to play games and rides and try snacks wasn't a problem, the look on her face was like a cautious sunrise, bright and excited, but not too eager, lest clouds appear unexpectedly.

Tokens and tickets really weren't a problem, though. Han found that the things he'd so coveted as a child were cheap pocket change compared to his status now, and he was by no means as wealthy as Leia, or even as some of his peers in the New Republic. It gave him a sense of pride to tell her that, pride in himself, and pride that he was able to reassure her that with him – and with Leia – money wasn't something that would hang over her, as it had with her mother, and when she was in the home.

It made him feel established, responsible, and he made a mental note of that – that being something that would make him look stable in the eyes of the courts. In a matter of hours, he'd taken to mentally cataloguing everything, and he was deliberately avoiding thinking about the stains in his past, or the things that might be used against him.

He was trying to start thinking about himself the way Leia kept telling him to – not as the Han Solo he used to be, or rather, the Han Solo he'd had to be for the sake of his own survival, but as the Han Solo he was – not perfect, but not evil, either.

He had to, because he figured if he showed any doubts about himself in front of a judge or around a social worker, they'd smell blood in the water, and no matter how uncertain all this seemed, and how unsure of himself he was, he was convinced he didn't want Vada taken away. He was still learning how to decide what was best for her, but it was intuitive to him that a home was bad, and these people who her mother had hated, and who had rejected her already, were bad.

Han folded his arms smugly, still reveling in the look on Vada's face.

"So," he said. "What do you wanna do first?"

Vada teetered back and forth on her heels, looking around with wide eyes.

"Games," she decided, grabbing his hand. "Games, Dad!" she squealed, her voice going up in pitch radically.

Han raised his brows, surprised at the exuberant show of personality, and glanced down at his hand, also a little surprised she'd grabbed it. She squeezed hard, hopefully affectionate, and then she darted forward, and he found himself being dragged.

He recovered hastily, taken aback by her strength, and then kept up a quick pace to walk with her, letting his hand hang limply in hers for a moment and then, thinking better of himself, squeezed back so she'd know he was still there.

And so he wouldn't lose her – it was crowded as hell, around here, and almost instinctively, he realized he had to be damn careful and keep an eye on her. She could get lost in the crowds if he blinked for a second, and who knew how long it would take to find her.

Vada managed to find the easiest paths through people to wriggle her way to the game section, and she stopped abruptly. Han nearly ran into her, but put his hand on her shoulder and pretended he meant to do so to keep an eye on her, rather than because he'd almost tripped over her.

She whirled, and turned her face up, eyes glittering.

"I love games," she said in rapid Corellian. "I love darts. Can you play darts? I'm good at darts."

Han raised his eyebrows, finding it hard not to smile. Her excitement was infectious, and it was doing a good job of coaxing his mind away from everything else. He hadn't thought about reaching for his comm to check for a message from Leia, or an update about anything else, since they got here.

"'M not bad at darts," he allowed. "But, uh, I wouldn't wanna beat you, so why don't you show me what you can do?"

Vada scrunched her nose at him, but shrugged.

"I am going to win prizes," she informed him.

"Oh yeah?" Han asked. "S'almost impossible to actually win at these things," he said dryly.

Vada snorted.

"Don't discourage me," she retorted.

Han smirked. He fumbled in his pocket for his credit chip scanners, muttering about getting her some tickets while she waited, rocking back and forth excitedly on her heels.

"You sure you don't mind getting tickets?" Vada asked earnestly, as Han procured some from a vendor and folded them into little stacks.

He snorted, and shook his head.

"Ain't got anythin' else to spend my money on," he said. "'Cept parts for the Falcon."

"Well, you can't spend it all on me, just because you got me," she said, taking the tickets from him. She hesitated, looked down at her clothing, and frowned. She handed some back. "I don't have pockets," she told him.

Han tucked the extra tickets safely away in his jacket pocket.

"What d'you think I should spend it on?" Han asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Vada said, turning to one of the booths and examining her options – there were many choices for games, but she seemed to be basing her choice on what prizes were offered. "New jacket?"

"What's wrong with my jacket?" Han asked, offended.

"It's old," Vada said flippantly. "And dusty. And it has spots on it."

Han glared at the back of her head. He turned his head to the side and lifted the collar, looking down at the jacket – he'd had this thing for ages. It was broken in, it suited him well, Leia liked it – how dare she –

Vada looked back at him and grinned charmingly.

"I am only joking, I like it," she teased.

Han let go of the collar, shaking his head at her.

"You can buy Leia things," Vada said, turning back and stepping up to a booth. "Not just me."

Han folded his arms, stepping after her, staying closer. He kept himself alert, without appearing too alert to those around him, so they'd underestimate him if they had sour intentions. Though Leia had advised him to stop openly carrying his blaster around Vada, just for appearances sake, he still had it on him in a modified holster that was more concealed by the very jacket she was taking pot shots at.

"I buy her things," Han said vaguely.

"What things?" Vada asked, and then tilted her head at the vendor. "Can I have seven darts, please?" she asked in slow, enunciated Basic.

The darts were handed over, and Han tilted his head, standing slightly to the side of her throwing arm to watch.

"Y'know," Han said gruffly. "Stuff men buy for women."

"Well," Vada said. "People used to buy Mommy sparkly clothes," she said, "with no material, really, just lace or beads. Like that?"

Han blinked.

"Uh, no," he said hastily. "I don't buy her lingerie," he said, without thinking too much of it.

"Oh is that what it is called? Lingerie," Vada repeated.

Han winced, and resisted the urge to slap himself in the back of the head. He frowned, and said nothing, because he couldn't think of a way to keep from putting his foot in his mouth again. He watched Vada squint and eye, and practice drawing her arm back and forth slowly.

"Flowers," he said finally. "Sometimes I get 'er flowers," he offered. "Or stuff from Alderaan if I can find it. Paintings and stuff."

Vada beamed.

"That's nice," she said.

Han smiled a little.

"You ever gonna throw that dart?" he challenged.

She turned and gave him a withering look.

"It's an art, Dad, not a race."

He held up his hands, and grinned.

"Yeah, right, don't let me distract you."

Vada turned primly, and after a moment, released the dart. It hit the board right in the center of the target, and she hopped up proudly. The vendor shot her a baleful look, grumbling. Han smirked. Those guys hated it when people started to win at their rigged games.

Vada launched another dart, and it hit the center target directly, and Han found himself thinking she'd probably be a damn good shot with a blaster. Then, he frowned at himself – was that normal? Should he be thinking about teaching his daughter to fire a blaster? Not – maybe not at seven. But, as he watched her throw darts, and thought about all the people around them, all the threats in the galaxy, well – he'd learned to throw a blade when he was her age, and gotten his hands on a blaster not long after.

Self-defense was important, Leia would agree with that. Leia was a pacifist, and she had a blaster within reach almost everywhere she went.

He saw Vada successfully pin another dart to the little yellow target area, and shook his head in admiration, whistling.

"Hey, how did you get so good?" he asked.

Vada hopped back, rolling the four darts she had left in her hand.

"Umm," she sighed. "'Cause I never had many darts before," she said. "So, I had to be real slow, and focused, and make it worth it, you know?" she said. "A lot of the kids, they would just steal more, but," she hesitated, looking up at him. "I don't like stealing. I did sometimes. But I didn't like doing bad things."

"S'okay," Han muttered, nodding. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Used to do a lot of stealin' myself."

"But you stopped," Vada said. "You don't steal anymore."

Han laughed.

"Nah, not anymore," he agreed.

"Why did you stop?" Vada asked, toying with her next dart.

"Huh," Han grunted. He shrugged. "'Cause…don't need to anymore," he said simply. "When I was little, I was stealin' stuff I needed, or thought I needed," he explained gruffly – he'd stolen food, and jewelry sometimes, to buy things his mother needed, like medicine, but being a kid – sometimes he'd stolen things he just wanted.

"Don't need to do that anymore," he said.

"So," Vada said. "Do you think stealing is okay if you need things?"

Han blinked. He hesitated. He reached up and rubbed his jaw, looking back at her intently. Why was she asking him for life lessons – ah, yes, because that was what kids did; relied on their parents for life lessons. He stared back at her for a while, and then shrugged gently.

"Yeah, I do," he said finally, bluntly. He put his hand on his hip, resting it against his concealed holster. "I mean, y'know, it's a little more complicated than that," he muttered. "It's gotta be real needs."

Vada lifted her dart, and turned to throw it.

"But stealing's bad," she said slowly, "sometimes?"

Han nodded.

"You gotta ask why someone's stealin', you know?" he offered. "Kid like you, or me, stealin', what's puttin' us in jail gonna do? Doesn't put food on the table. Ain't stealin' 'cause we don't know it's wrong, right?" he said gruffly. "'Cause we had to."

Vada tilted her head. She let another dart sail, and Han watched it hit its mark – again. He smiled wryly.

"You're smart," Vada said finally.

Han snorted.

"S'called street smarts, what I got," he told her.

"Nuh-uh, all kinds of smarts," Vada said firmly. "Street smarts is just how to make a shiv, and annnnnnybody can do that," she said flippantly.

"You can make a shiv?" Han asked dryly.

"Not a very pointy one," Vada said glumly, holding up a dart. "Not like this. Just a kind of dull sticky one. So I scratch people if they come at me. But not stab them, because I don't want to hurt anyone."

Han suppressed a smirk. He nodded at her dart.

"Think you can go seven for seven?" he asked.

Vada nodded primly.

"Smart," she said, going back to the other topic. "Is some more of why Leia likes you a lot, I think," she decided. "Not just because you are pretty."

Han narrowed his eyes.

"What?" he asked. "Just because'm pretty?" he quoted edgily. "Where'd you hear – "

"The Holos," Vada said, launching another dart. Center mass. "One of them, it said you were just a phase. Man candy. But I did not know the slang, so Dita told me it means pretty."

Han swallowed an outraged snort. Vada glanced at him worriedly.

"I, um, didn't mean to make you mad," she said slowly. "I bet she thinks you are pretty, also. And smart."

He blinked incredulously, stepping closer. He leaned down next to her on the little counter that she stood behind, looking at the remaining dart in her hand, and then up at her face.

"You mind if I ask you somethin'?" he ventured.

She shrugged, and nodded. Then paused, furrowing her brow.

"Yes. No. I don't mind," she said. "That question always confuses me," she whispered.

Han smiled, but kept going.

"You keep talkin' about Leia," he said. "There some reason for that?" he asked.

He'd thought Vada was still a little mad at Leia, or at least a little wary of her, and they certainly hadn't seen her since yesterday. Vada didn't even know Han had been talking to her on and off all day, and he was starting to wonder about the fixation. Did she miss Leia? Was she still dwelling on the idea that she was to blame for the friction? Han didn't want her worrying about that.

Vada touched the final dart, pushing it back and forth on the little counter. She looked over at her target, and then up at him through her lashes.

"I don't want you to think I hate her," she said quietly. "I don't want her to stay away because of me."

Han nodded. He put his hand on her shoulder and patted it gently.

"I don't think you hate her," he said calmly.

"But," Vada started. "She went away, and you said it's not my fault, but that seemed like a grown-up lie – "

"Hey. Hey," Han said. "Hey. It wasn't a lie. It's not your fault. She didn't want to crowd you, okay?" he said. "It's so you and I can spend time together. Get to know each other. Like we're doin' right now. I wasn't lyin'."

Vada frowned at him.

"I don't want you to break up to do that with me," she said.

"We didn't break up," Han reassured her again, and that same hollow, horrible feeling shot through him at the idea. He watched her face, trying to see if she believed him, and hesitated. Then, he crouched down, and pointed to his own face. "Look, if we broke up, I'd be cryin', okay?" he said, with mock sternness. "You see me cryin'?"

She arched her brows skeptically.

"You would cry?"

"Yeah, I would," Han said firmly. "'Cause I love 'er that much," he said quietly.

Somehow, wrapped up in the moment, he was able to block out the crowds all around them, the press of people, the jostling and the music in the noise, to just talk to her. It seemed surreal to be so quiet, and so absorbed in one little person, in such a crowd, but it was important – and talking to her in a meaningful way was getting slowly easier.

"I'm sorry," Vada whispered. "I don't really understand what is happening."

Han touched her shoulder again and grinned wryly.

"It's tough," he agreed. "But Leia, she's tryin' hard as I am to do the right thing," he said gruffly. "'Cause you know how I was bein', what did you call it, twitchy? Around you?"

Vada smirked a little, and nodded.

"Don't you think I'm gettin' a little better?" he asked.

She smiled, biting her lip.

"Yes," she said. "You are. Not so twitchy."

Han nodded. He arched a brow.

"It's 'cause I had to start learnin'," he said. "So, Leia's helpin' me, too. So when you live with us all the time, it's not just…awkward all the time."

Vada took a deep breath. She picked up the final dart, and examined it again. She scrunched her nose.

"You just…seem sad," she muttered to herself. "I don't like it."

Han gruffly cleared his throat.

"Not sad," he said, without elaborating. Getting into how he felt after one night without Leia in bed next to him was too much for her, so he'd keep that simple – that was the right thing for now.

He tapped her hand.

"C'mon," he said. "Make me proud."

He rose up a little, paused thoughtfully, then kissed her on the top of the head gingerly, and stood to stand behind her. As he turned, he thought he saw the flash of a gold Holo lens somewhere near them, and he grit his teeth and ignored it. It was inescapable – let it be seen, and let them be damned, so long as they stayed a safe distance away, he wouldn't draw any blood.

Vada threw her last dart, and winced, as it bounced off and fell to the floor. She scratched her chin, and blushed.

"Uhhh," she uttered, twisting at the waist. "You made me nervous, saying to make you proud."

Han blinked, abashed.

"I was just sayin' it," he started. "It's not," he gestured at the dart that had fallen flippantly. "That doesn't matter," he said hastily.

Vada smiled vaguely. She hopped back, and reached up to grab his belt, holding on. She pointed at the vendor.

"You go," she said. "And win something for Leia, okay? To take to her."

"You think she'd like that?" Han asked gruffly.

"It's romantic," Vada retorted. "Can we go see her later?" she asked after a moment. She inched a little closer to him, keeping her eyes on her target. "I want to say some things to her."

Han hesitated.

"Maybe," he said. "I'll ask her. Let's just have fun here for now," he suggested slowly. "Sound good?"

Vada nodded, but she looked a little relieved. She bit her lip, and then brightened, hopping forward and waving at the vendor.

"Excuse me, sir? We need more darts. And I need tokens, please," she said.

He scowled at her moodily, doling out the tokens she'd earned with her on-point darts, and Han glared at him for daring to scowl at her. Vada clutched her prize tokens, counting them to make sure she hadn't been cheated, and then handed over a fistful of darts to Han.

"Hey," Han said, looking at the handful incredulously. "Why'd you get me," he counted quickly in his head, "fourteen?"

Vada shrugged innocently.

"I don't know, it seems maybe you are not as good as me," she gloated.

Han feigned outrage, and snatched them close to his chest, shaking his head at her.

"You just wait, kid," he threatened mildly. "I'll show you."

"You can't let me win on purpose!" Vada told him. "You have to try!"

"Let you win? That wouldn't teach you a damn thing," Han retorted. He arched a brow. "I'm supposed to teach you how to," he waved his hand, "be a human, right?"

Vada gave a shrill giggle, and stepped back, folding her arms and letting him have more room to play.

"That's a funny way to put it," she snickered. "I was born a human," she pointed out.

"Still had to learn how to do it right," Han argued. He drew back his arm and launched a dart at the board lazily, without giving it much thought. It hit far off to the edge of the target, and Han blinked and tilted his head back, offended.

Vada lunged forward and squinted, looking from her board to his.

"What was that?" she asked, laughing. "Did you have a seizure?"

Han gave her a look, and then looked down at his handful of darts sheepishly. Vada clicked her tongue pointedly.

"I told you," she sang. "You got to be focused."

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Han muttered.

He set his jaw, and slowed it down, squinting his eyes and focusing. When his next two darts were also dismal failures, he resisted the urge to go charging over the counter and stab his next darts directly into the middle, just to make a point. Didn't he used to be good at this game? Were the Holos watching him play a bad game at darts and speculating about Vada and Leia and all kinds of other things?

He rolled his eyes. He shouldn't give a damn what they were saying; he should only care what the reality of his personal life was. He launched another dart, and it hit dead center, and he grinned smugly, turning to point it out to Vada.

"I was just hustlin' you," he started, and then whipped around, his jaw clenching tightly. "Vada?" he muttered.

She'd been standing just off to the side next to him, watching him play, and now she was gone. Han's heart lurched, and he took a jerky step forward, panic washing through him – he'd lost her. This was his first day completely alone and in charge of her and he'd – he'd lost her. And it would be all over the Holos, and he'd never get custody of her after this, and she could be hurt – had she run off? What was she – where was she –

"Vada?" he called, raising his voice.

He took a few steps forward, spinning around, and then turning again, looking furiously. His heart pounded, and his mouth felt dry.

"Va – " He started, and cut off with a strangled noise, when he noticed her hopping towards him, darting through a cluster of carts that were just off to the left. She had a woven headband on her head, and a disposable canteen.

As she darted forward, instinctively, Han reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder – not roughly, but enough to bring her to a full stop. He dropped to one knee, the expression on his face thunderous, and Vada widened her eyes and drew back a little, worried.

"What?" she asked.

"Don't do that," he burst out tensely. "Don't run off, Vada, what the hell were you thinkin'? You get lost in the crowd, you could get hurt," he said rapidly, gritting his teeth. "You can't just take off – "

"But," she interrupted. "I – I didn't! I told you I was going to get a fizzy juice from the vendor, he was walking by!" she protested. "I thought you heard me," she added, bowing her head.

Han hesitated. He loosened his tough grip on her arm a little, and reached up to rub his forehead. He sighed to himself.

"He was close," Vada said, shifting her feet. "But he kept moving so I chased him a little…it wasn't far," she protested. "I told you I was going."

Han took a deep breath. He hadn't heard, and he didn't think she was lying. He'd probably been too absorbed in the damn game, or thinking about the Holos, or Leia. He had to learn to pay better attention – when he was with Vada, watching her, that had to be the only thing on his mind, bar nothing.

Han reached up and tapped the woven headband.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Oh, um," Vada suddenly looked sheepish, biting her lip. "Well…after the juice I saw…I got it with my tokens," she turned and pointed. "But I was right there, it was just a split…second."

Han sat back on his heel, resting his elbow on his other knee. He considered her for minute, and raised his brow.

"Did you tell me you were going to the prize booth?" he asked.

Vada scratched her chin. She shook her head –no.

Han took another deep breath.

"Okay," he said, much calmer now. "My fault for not hearin' you." He hesitated, thinking about the best thing to do. "Got a rule for you," he suggested.

"Okay," she said quietly.

"You can't just tell me you're doin' somethin', especially in a big crowd," he said gruffly. "You got to ask, and you got to hear me say yes."

Vada nodded. She tucked the canteen under her arm, looked at him guardedly for a moment, and then burst into a smile. Han tilted his head curiously, furrowing his brow.

"What?" he asked warily.

"You were so worried," she said brightly. "About me!"

Han smiled a little. It tugged at his heart that something like that made her so happy, but he knew she'd probably spent a lot of time alone, missing her mother, assuming no one was ever going to care about her, or worry about her, again. He nodded, his throat a little constricted.

"'Course I was worried, Viddy," he said sincerely. "Don't want anything to happen to you."

She lunged forward and hugged him. The canteen under her arm slipped out and hit him in the jaw.

"Oh no," she said, leaping back. "Sorry!"

Han caught it, and handed it back to her.

"S'okay," he said flippantly. He started to stand. He beckoned to her. "Now come show me how to throw these darts right."

Vada nodded, stepping up next to him. She leaned forward on the counter, holding her canteen between her hands and watching.

"Do you like my headband, though?" she asked. "Is it nice?"

"Yeah," Han said obediently. "Real pretty."

Vada beamed.

"I need it to keep my hair back," she told him. "You need to ask Leia to show you how to do hair."

Han snorted.

"Yeah," he said again. "You're right."

She lifted her arm.

"Okay," she instructed, "close one eye, maybe, and then you can see better, because one eye is stronger – "

Han smirked, listening to her, and though it turned out he was mediocre at the game itself, and Vada could do nothing to help him, he had a good time, and several rounds of darts and a lot of coaching later, Vada had another prize tucked under her arm.

She'd insisted Han pick it out for Leia, but he'd insisted she carry it – as it was very…frilly.

"What d'you think?" Han asked, as they made their way through the winding trails again. "Fried snacks?"

Vada whirled around, thinking.

"Rides, maybe?"

She looked up high in the sky, and Han shook his head.

"You're too little for the good ones," he said.

"Uhh," Vada retorted, stomping her foot. "That's a matter of opinion."

Han arched his brows.

"Guess you're right," he said slowly. "But some of these are death traps," he added darkly. "Never get inspected like they're s'pose to."

He cringed at himself as he said it. When he was a kid, he'd never have thought twice about hopping on some rickety coaster or a tall drop ride, but now it seemed ridiculously stupid to let her risk it -

Vada spun around, her eyes lighting up at the sight of a colourful spinning merry-go-round, and then stepped up to his side, grabbing the edge of his jacket and nodding at it smugly.

"I want to go on the carousel," Vada said.

"Okay," Han agreed with a shrug. "Seems…not dangerous."

"It's a carousel," she snorted. "Not a dungeon."

"Okay," Han said again. He grinned, and reached into his pocket for her tickets. "How many you need?"

"It is ten, I think. So, twenty."

Han paused, and gave her a look.

"You want to ride twice? What if you get dizzy?"

Vada giggled.

"No, for you. You and me."

Han hesitated, raising his eyebrows.

"You want me to get on the carousel with you?"

Vada nodded solemnly.

"I'm seven," she said pointedly. "What if someone snatches me off of it? Kidnaps me?"

Han gave her an alarmed look.

"What? Snatch you off it? Would someone do that?" he asked, panicked.

He shook his head - yeah, of course maybe someone would. The galaxy was a terrible place, and they were on Coruscant. And he was the one who had just nearly gone into cardiac arrest because he'd lost sight of her for a few minutes – but it hadn't occurred to him someone might have taken her. He'd assumed she ran off because – kids did that.

He looked at the colorful metal animals again, and how happily they were slowly spinning. Vada watched him expectantly.

He sighed, trying not to look too displeased at the idea.

"Yeah, okay. I'll go."

Vada jumped up and down excitedly.

"They have tauntauns, I want one of those," she said, grabbing his hand. "Maybe they have two next to each other."

"Just grab yourself a tauntaun," Han said gruffly. "I've been on a real one, I can sit on whatever's close," he said. "Or stand," he added, "next to you," he perked up, "make sure you don't fall – "

"No, Daddy, you are sitting on one," she interrupted loudly.

Han tilted his head. That was – different. Usually, it was just Dad, and it was almost tentative. In the excitement, she'd slipped into that gentler, more familiar term, and Han smiled a little.

A group of people walked between them, and jostled their hands; separating him from Vada for a moment. He grit his teeth, and pushed through them, earning an annoyed look as he sharply tried to navigate towards her.

"Was that Han Solo?" he heard someone ask, in awe, and he rolled his eyes.

He folded his arms, looking down at Vada. He considered her for a moment, and then crouched down, gesturing to his back.

"C'mere," he said gruffly. "I want you to get on my back."

Vada raised her eyebrows.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah," Han said. "I don't want you gettin' lost in all this," he said, jerking his chin. "C'mon." He tapped his shoulder. "Lock your arms around my neck."

"I know what it is," Vada said. She looked skeptical. "Won't I be too heavy?"

Han laughed.

"Nah," he said confidently.

Vada put her hands on her hips.

"How do you know?"

"Leia picked you up," Han snorted. "Means I know I can. 'Sides, you weigh less than her, and I've picked her up."

Vada came around and grabbed his shoulders, raising her eyebrows higher.

"Like this? On your back?"

Han laughed.

"No," he said, wincing as Vada shoved her foot into his ribs on accident.

He braced his feet so he'd be able to get up easily without hurting his back. He doubted she was heavy at all. She was a slight little thing, a combination of the frame she'd inherited from her mother, and the lack of nutrition she'd had for a few years.

"Why did you pick Leia up?" Vada asked.

"Uhh," Han said, waiting for her to squeeze his shoulder or something so he'd know she had a good grip. "Couple times when she's been hurt," he said, standing steadily.

Vada rested her chin on his shoulder.

"Oh," she muttered. "She got hurt a lot in all the fighting?"

"S'what happens when you fight," Han muttered.

Vada nodded, and he started walking over towards the area where the carousel was, glaring at it mildly.

"So," Vada said, tilting her head to stare at him in profile. "You rode a real tauntaun?"

Han grinned, and nodded, offering to tell her the story. She nodded eagerly, listening intently as they continued their festival day, and though Han edited out the yuckier parts – how he'd actually used the animal to help keep Luke warm – he could tell Vada found the story riveting, and he was having a pretty damn good time telling her about it.

Relatively late in the evening, Leia was still in her office. The court summons was on her mind, jumbling around with everything else, and she felt safe here. She felt distracted, even if she was doing little more than idly reading briefs, and thinking things through.

She was in a moment of distraction right now, the thick file on her desk abandoned as she rested her chin on her palm and watched the day's Holo re-caps with a small, wry smile. Someone had captured Han and Vada at the carnival – one shot of Han crouched down next to Vada, patting her shoulder, and one of him carrying her on his back in the middle of the crowds.

She felt conflicted about the images. Part of her was irritated he was being followed and holographed; part of her wished the images were more pristine, so she might frame one and set it on her desk.

She smiled, and sat back. Han had mentioned stopping by. She wasn't sure if he was still going to; she wasn't sure if he should. Clearly, today had been good for him and Vada, which assured her that this time apart was a good thing. She just hoped he didn't internalize it; take it the wrong way –

"Princess?"

Ulixa's soft voice came over the intercom, and Leia hit it immediately, answering:

"Go home, Uli," she said kindly. "No need for you to work my late hours."

"Yes, Your Highness," Ulixa answered. A moment later, she was hesitantly opening Leia's office door, and she smiled gently, sliding on a jacket. "It's just that General Solo is here, with Vada," she said. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to see…?"

Leia sighed, raising her eyes to the ceiling in a gesture of good-natured drama.

"Rumors abound, don't they?" she asked. "He's still my Han," she said wryly. "Let him in."

"He's unrestricted?" she asked – obviously having heard some rumor somewhere that this was putting such a strain on them, that this was going to be the end of the fabled Han and Leia.

Leia nodded, and Ulixa beamed, sighing.

"Oh, good," she said, flushing. "I'm glad. Um – well, goodnight, Your Highness."

Leia gave her a little wave. Ulixa was fiercely loyal, but very young – and Mon Mothma had advised against Leia hiring someone who was so obviously starstruck by working for the Princess, or rubbing elbows with heroes of the Rebellion. But Leia knew Ulixa had lost three older brothers during the war, all of them perishing at a battle outside of Sullust that Leia had commanded, and she'd promised the older one – as he bled out in medical bay – that she'd make sure their little sister was taken care of.

Ulixa was smart, eager, and passionate, and Leia didn't care if she sometimes caught her secretly reading fluff pieces on famous politicians. She needed light in her life, and she was otherwise competent.

A moment later, Han poked his head around the door warily, and Leia sat back, offering him a smile. She snapped her fingers to bring the lights in the room up a little more, so it wasn't as dim, and Han stepped into the office.

Leia tilted her head, waiting, and then pursed her lips curiously.

"Where's…?" she started.

Han pointed.

"She's showing Ulixa her headband," he said. "She won it at the carnival."

"Ah," Leia murmured.

She stood up and pushed her chair in, locking her console. She came around the desk and leaned against it, making herself more open, and accessible. Han shifted, and reached up to rub his jaw.

"You sure you don't mind us droppin' by?" he asked gruffly.

Leia shook her head.

"Good," Han said a little nervously. "She, uh…she wanted to. See you," he said, lowering his hand. He slid it into his pocket. "Me too," he added hastily.

Leia smiled.

"You're workin' late," he noted, brow furrowing. "Everything okay?"

She sighed, tilting her head.

"Oh, the same old nuisances," she said. "I'm more comfortable here than just," she waved her hand lamely, "moping around Luke's place."

"Moping?" Han asked sharply.

She laughed softly. She cleared her throat.

"Well, maybe not moping," she amended.

He studied her, and folded his arms.

"Well, you could come home," he ventured warily.

She pursed her lips.

"It's only been one day, Han," she said gently.

Han sighed, the rush of air through his lips harsh, and tired.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Vada sidled up behind him and slipped into the room, her face bright. Held back by the headband Han had spoken of, her hair was wild, and tangled, and Leia pointedly tried not to raise her eyebrows at it. She didn't want Vada to be self-conscious, or Han to feel judged but – damn, had he bothered to run a comb through it?

She looked happy, if cautious, and her hands were full.

"Hi, Vada," Leia greeted warmly. "It looks like you had a good day," she remarked, nodding at the silent Holo.

Vada blushed.

"Do not be mad at him because of missing Academy," she pleaded, leaning into Han's side.

He shuffled forward a little and shut Leia's office door.

"Please," Vada said politely. "I forgot, too, I am not always in the habit yet of going to school again."

Leia smiled. She folded her arms and shrugged.

"Oh, I'm not mad at him," she said easily. "Missing a day or two isn't going to hurt you. You're still settling in."

Vada looked relieved, and came more fully into the office. Leia noticed she had a little face painting on her right cheek; it appeared to be a glittery Nubian bee. She smiled, and looked up at Han expectantly.

"Why didn't you get your face painted?" she asked.

"I tried to make him," Vada answered, glaring at Han. "He is a whiny baby."

Leia laughed outright, and Han folded his arms, glaring.

"The chair in the booth was too small, it was for kids – "

"He is a baby," Vada said loudly, talking over him.

"He is," Leia agreed in a murmur.

Vada took a few steps back and roamed around Leia's sofa and kaffe table, looking at things. She peeked up at both Han and Leia, and then flicked her eyes pointedly to Leia.

"Did you sleep nice last night?" she asked kindly. "And how are you today?" she added.

Leia bit the inside of her lip, touched.

"I did sleep well," she said, "and I had a good day, thank you for asking."

She folded her arms loosely.

"Did you sleep alright?" she asked.

Vada nodded.

"Yes, I was tired," she said. "Dad talked to me a long time," she offered. "This morning he made hotcakes again," she added, trailing off in a small voice. She looked over at Han. "He says you will stay with Luke for a while," she said.

Han turned.

"Vada," he started carefully.

"No, it's okay, Han," Leia soothed. She looked at Vada honestly. "For a few days, for sure. He's my brother and we don't spend much time together," she said lightly.

Vada stared at her.

"Dad says it is not because of me, but I think he is telling lies," she said.

Leia shook her head.

"Han's not lying to you," she said firmly.

"Well," Vada said, her face blanching. "Wait. I do not think he is a liar," she said, looking earnestly at Han. "I think he is saying nice lies, to make me feel better so," she trailed off.

Leia clicked her tongue.

"Either way, he's not lying," she said. "I want you and Han to spend some time together getting to know each other."

Vada nodded. That was what Han had said too, so it checked out with her. She walked forward, and leaned against the arm of the sofa. She glanced over at Han pointedly, and he raised his eyebrows at her, unsure what she wanted.

"Um, Miss Leia," Vada started formally. "I – "

"Vada, please," Leia said gently. "Leia."

Vada nodded.

"Leia," she said. "I want to say…that I am sorry," she said in a small voice. "Because of slamming doors last night. I did not like that you had…gone away, when I woke up."

Leia bit the inside of her lip, her heart lurching sadly. She looked at Vada for a long, quiet moment, and then pushed away from her desk and came to sit down on the sofa. She perched on the edge, gently reaching out to push her hand through Vada's unruly hair, and looked up at Han narrowly.

If he had prevailed upon this little girl to apologize to Leia –

"I didn't," Han said, reading her expression instantly. "Vada, you don't have to – "

"No, no, he did not tell me to," Vada said hurriedly. "I just feel, I want to," she stammered. "I am sorry for making this happen."

She swallowed hard.

"I was scared and a little worried, so I started yelling, and I do not usually do that, the yelling and slamming things and…I am sorry, but I was just…overwhelmed. And scared," she said again.

Leia listened, letting Vada get this off her chest. She stroked her hair again, and after a moment, she took a deep breath.

"You know what, Vada?" Leia started finally, her words very soft. "Thank you for your apology. It's very mature. But you don't owe it to me," she said honestly. "You shouldn't apologize for how you feel."

Leia paused, and let her hand fall from Vada's hair. She touched her hand gingerly.

"Your dad taught me that," she added, glancing up at Han.

Han cocked his head at her curiously, and she smiled, giving a small nod.

"Well," Vada said, shifting her feet uncomfortably. "I was saying sorry for the yelling, I guess. And door slamming." she amended warily.

Leia pursed her lips, and shook her head.

"You don't have to," she said again. "You were letting me know that you did not want to be treated a certain way or talked about a certain way," she murmured, "and it's very, very important that you always do that. Even if it causes fights," she said. "Speak up for yourself."

Vada tucked her hair back; looking at Leia for a long, quiet moment. She dipped her head bashfully, and nodded, still tugging at the ends of her hair.

"Dad says…you did not mean to make it seem like I would go away if you have a baby," she said.

"He's right," Leia said. "You overheard me making a very bad, insensitive joke. And it was mean and I should have thought about it more before saying it."

Vada nodded at that, accepting the explanation. She felt relieved to hear Leia say that, too.

"He says you are not going to have a baby right now," Vada said.

"What does he know about it?" Leia retorted, deadpan.

Han started, and took a step back.

"What?" he hissed.

Leia grinned in spite of herself, and winked at Vada.

"It's fun to mess with him," she said.

Vada smiled slowly, and turned to look up at Han.

"Yeah," she agreed.

Han scowled at Leia, reaching up to rub the back of his head. Second time today he'd nearly had a heart attack –

Vada chewed on her lip.

"You can come back," she said earnestly. "It is your apartment, and – "

"Vada," Han interrupted carefully. "Thought you just wanted to say hi, and give her – "

"I want to fix things," Vada interrupted quickly. "I did not want to mess everything up!"

"Vada," Leia said gently. "It's all okay. Han and I have stayed in different places before, and it didn't change anything between us. We're all just adjusting."

Vada looked like she might cry.

"This isn't going to be permanent," Leia said, "and you didn't ruin anything. I think I'll stay with Luke for another week or so, as we figure things out," she said, flicking her eyes up at Han, "but you'll still see me," she promised.

Han sat down on the arm of the sofa.

"Told you, Vada," he said gruffly. "Let us worry about the tough stuff, okay?"

Vada glared at him.

"How do I not worry about where they make me live and why?" she snapped. "What if because Leia is not there, they take me away, and all kinds of stuff, because – "

Han patted her hair, sighing. He shared a look with Leia.

"Yeah, kid, I know it's impossible to ask you not to worry," he muttered. "But try for me, okay?"

Leia nodded in agreement.

"I have my interview with the social workers soon," she said encouragingly. "I'm pretty good at interviews," she said, with a small wink. "I've done a lot of them. And I know the best place for you is with Han."

Vada sighed.

"But my grandmother wants me."

Han tensed, and put his arm around her.

"Like I said," he muttered. "We're fightin' that."

Vada took a deep breath.

"Okay," she said. "Oh…okay."

She took another few deep breaths, and nodded to herself. Leia watched her for a moment, and then tilted her head.

"Han said you waned to give me something?" she ventured. "Or am I hearing things?"

Vada rallied, and brightened.

"Oh. Yes, we played games. Darts. I helped him play, so he won you something," she said, plucking something from under her arm. "This."

Leia reached out gingerly to take the stuffed animal she was being offered. It was light pink, feathery, and fluffy, and to Vada, it looked somewhat like a mythical creature. It had knit, bright green eyes, and a sewn on red smile.

Vada shrugged shyly.

"You do not seem like a pink person, so I do not know why that is what colour he picked," she said.

"I like pink," Leia said, setting the toy on her knees. She admired it for a moment and then look up at Han briefly before turning to Vada. "But I'll tell you why he picked it," she said. "It's a cloud dragon," she said. "They're creatures from Alderaanian fairy tales," she explained, "and he knows I used to pretend my thranta was one."

Vada brightened.

"Cloud dragon sounds cool," she said. "I like fairytales, too," she added. "Corellian ones are all about bravery."

"Mine are all about service and humility," Leia said. "Not quite as exciting."

"Can you tell me some of them?" Vada asked. "Not right now," she said quickly. "Over time. You know, like, ah…so you have to come over…even if you are staying at Luke's."

Vada gave her an innocent look, and Leia looked at her wryly, giving a nod.

"Well, only on the condition that you tell me some of yours," she said.

Vada stuck out her hand, and Leia shook it lightly.

"Deal," Vada said. She leaned heavily against the sofa. "I do not think I have seen a thranta, or heard of it. What was yours named?"

Leia smiled a little.

"Thesalia," she said. "Thessi," she added fondly.

Vada hesitated.

"Are they all gone?" she asked softly.

Leia smiled sadly.

"Ah, no, actually," she answered, resting her elbow on her knee, and her chin on her knuckles.

"They're very endangered, but there is a colony living on a planet called Bespin."

"That's nice!"

"Bespin?" Han asked gruffly. "Really? You saw some there? You didn't say anything," he said.

Leia tilted her head up, lifting her shoulders.

"I thought I was seething things," she said honestly, "and I…didn't want to think about Alderaan. Lando told me they were real as we were leaving," she added. "I took it as a sign."

"Sign of what?" Han grunted.

Leia smirked.

"You'd live," she answered simply. "The thrantas survived Alderaan, so," she trailed off.

Vada whipped her head around.

"Is she calling you a thranta?" she asked, squinting.

Han snorted.

"I think so," he said, winking.

Leia smiled, and sat back.

"You should take her to Bespin to see the thrantas," Vada informed Han.

Han grinned, but didn't say anything. He didn't think he and Leia would be venturing back to Bespin anytime in the near future. Too many bad memories. The journey there, however –

"Don't you have an interview soon, Vada?" Leia asked.

Vada sighed. She nodded.

"It is not tomorrow, but it is the day after that," she said. "After school," she said glumly.

"You just be honest and tell them how you feel, that's all," Leia encouraged.

"Is that what you will do?" Vada asked.

"Mm-hmm," Leia said. "And Han did, too."

She flicked her eyes up at Han, hesitated, and then looked back at Vada. She tried to think of something to ask Vada to do, so she could have a minute to speak with Han privately. She chewed on her lip.

"Hey, Vada," she started.

"You want to talk alone?" she asked immediately.

Leia suppressed a smile.

"You're a very intuitive person," she complimented.

"Oh, I have to be," Vada whispered.

Leia nodded, and sat forward.

"It might sound silly, but if you could sit at Ulixa's desk and draw her a picture, I bet she'd like that. Especially," Leia lowered her voice, "if you autograph it."

Vada giggled skeptically, and nodded. She looked up at Han, and he gave her a nod of approval, and stepped back and opened the office door. To make her feel safer, he left it open – he doubted Leia had anything really devastating to say. Leia leaned forward to watch Vada climb into Ulixa's chair, and then she ran a hand over her mouth, and scooted to the edge of the sofa, standing after a moment.

She stepped forward, and touched Han's arm, leaning forward. He bent his head down as she tilted hers up, and she pressed an affectionate kiss to his lips, pulling back quickly. She extricated herself, and beckoned to him, leading him over to her desk.

"I received a subpoena today, from the Vardalos lawyers," she said calmly. She lifted it, and handed it to him, folding her arms after he took it. "It's standard form. A response to your injunction, naturally."

"Why'd you get a subpoena?" Han asked, reading over it. "You're not…I didn't list you as a, uh," Han fumbled. "I didn't say you were…look, I just spoke for myself, my custody rights," he said awkwardly.

He hadn't made any claims that Leia was going to adopt. He'd only noted that she did live in the home where Vada would be living.

"Because I live there," Leia said frankly. "They want to evaluate my suitability, it seems. Since I'm whoring myself around with you."

Han raised his eyebrows, and laughed a little.

"What?" he snorted.

She sighed.

"That's the implication I got," she said dryly.

Han shook his head at the absurdity, and handed the summons back. He sighed, folded his arms tensely.

"Kriff," he swore. "I'm – "

"Sorry, I know," Leia said. "I expected this. It's routine, and it doesn't change anything," she said, matter-of-fact. "Vada's not going with these people. I'll make sure of it. I'll pull strings if I have to."

Han arched his brows hesitantly, setting his jaw.

"That legal?" he asked.

Leia shrugged shortly.

"This woman paid a fine to send Vada to an orphanage," she said shortly. "I am not above pulling some strings to make sure she stays in a good place."

Han's lips turned up at the corner.

"You're really protective of her," he blurted.

"Aren't you?" Leia retorted.

"Well, yeah, I am," he said. "S'just…she's mine."

"Yes," Leia agreed. "She's yours." She tilted her head. "Chewbacca protects me because I'm yours, you know," she said.

Han cocked his head.

She pursed her lips.

"I feel that way about her. You're mine, so," she shrugged, letting him interpret the rest.

She swallowed hard.

"Things are okay?" she asked, turning her head to look towards the other office. "Aside from her hair," she added with a snort.

Han scratched his chin.

"Uh," he said. "Can you…show me how to do it? Somethin' simple?" he asked sheepishly. "I tried to help her brush it – "

Leia shook her head.

"You can't brush her hair, Han, it's too curly. You have to comb it when it's wet, and help set the curls."

Han gave her a pointed look.

"Yeah. Show me."

She dipped her head.

"Of course I can."

She smiled. Silence fell between them, and Leia shifted, looking down at her feet. She tried to discern if something felt off, but it didn't seem that way. This was just another – new situation. She'd go home and stay at Luke's tonight, and she'd feel deprived, but they'd take some more time, and find a way to integrate better.

"Leia, do you want – " he started.

She shook her head.

"No," she said firmly. "I'm…glad Vada feels better about what happened," she said. "It's still important that I don't crowd you two."

"Leia," he began again.

"Han," she answered. She looked up at him. "It's not all perfect after one day."

Han rubbed his jaw, and glanced away. He knew that. Of course she was right. But – couldn't they work on it together, in the same place? He'd gotten a taste of what it meant to be the person who was in charge of Vada; he knew not to pawn it off anymore – or to try not to.

He wasn't sure what she wanted. She'd said she needed him to define a role – but maybe she also needed time to herself, to cope, and he didn't want to crowd her. And he couldn't – it was so hard to sit down and talk when Vada might be listening, or he didn't want to pawn Vada off on someone.

He rubbed his jaw, and sighed.

"Well, uh," he said. "What if you come to dinner with us?" he asked finally, shrugging. "Just real quick tonight. Have you eaten today?" he added, eyeing her suspiciously.

She smiled thinly.

"Not tonight," she demurred. "I'll come over a few nights this week," she offered. "There should be another home visit soon, as it were."

Han shifted, frustration flaring.

"So we're lying to these people, then? Fakin' it, pretending everything's fine?" he asked in a low voice. "What do I say if they show up and you're not there?" he muttered. "Or they start askin' why that lease is only in your name?"

Leia looked away, biting the inside of her lip. She wasn't sure how to handle that, either. Lies could be problematic – but it was hard to explain in legal terms that she and Han had considered themselves permanent, and before Vada, there had been no need to define that at all, and now they were – floundering. But she didn't think he needed to be so paranoid about only one of them being present for a home visit. Surely social services knew that in any reality, sometimes, only one person was home with a child, and it was perfectly normal.

Han gave a short, loud sigh. He stepped closer, and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. We'll, uh, talk sometime," he muttered lamely. "You…have any nightmares? Last night?"

She shook her head, smiling at the concern.

"Good," he muttered.

He swallowed hard, and bent to kiss her. She returned the kiss, and rested her forehead on his chest for a moment, before pushing him away somewhat playfully. She put on a bright smile.

"Go," she said breezily.

"You leavin' for the day?" Han asked.

"Soon," she assured him. She nodded at the couch behind him. "I have to find a place here for my cloud dragon," she said wryly.

She touched his hand, and then pushed away from her desk, pointing him towards the door, and she walked him out. Vada hopped out of her chair when she saw him, and gave Leia a small wave. She started to dart out the door, and Han stopped, shaking his head.

"Viddy, wait," he called.

He gave Leia a look, smirked, and then went off after her quickly. Leia strolled over to look the artwork Vada had been engage in at Ulixa's's desk. She picked up the drawing carefully, her lips turning up at the corner. Vada had drawn a crude rendition of a tauntaun – or so Leia guessed it was – and written her name neatly.

Leia left it for Ulixa to find in the morning, and then returned to her office. She wandered to the sofa, and picked up the cloud dragon Han had given her, curling up in the corner and setting it on her lap. She stared down at it thoughtfully, scraping the inside of her lip with her teeth.

She stared at the toy for a long time, and then slid down, and rested her head on the decorative pillows, tucking the stuffed animal half under her head to support her neck. She closed her eyes to think. Han would hate it if he found out she was sleeping in her office, but she didn't feel like being around Luke tonight, either.

Again, she channeled all of her complex emotions towards Vaella Vardalos – she was the key offender; she was the person who had made all of this so much more difficult than it should be – if she had never reared her undeserving head, Leia and Han would be coping in a timely, slow-moving manner – she was sure of it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

"Near Death Experiences"

Han was finding it more and more difficult to sleep. He usually didn't have much trouble sleeping. Even at the lowest points in his life, he'd found a sort of blank refuge in sleep. He had the ability - and, he'd discovered, after many nights of wakefulness watching Leia struggle to get any sleep at all - the blessing of being able to use sleep as a dead-to-the world escape. On the rare occasions in the past when he'd encountered insomnia, he'd opened a bottle of something with a high alcohol content - usually whiskey - and, whether it was healthy or not, drank himself into a stupor. That wasn't a trick he had performed very often, and it wasn't, he knew, something he could engage in now.

No matter how little he knew about parenting - good parenting - he knew that he couldn't abuse substances around his daughter. He knew it because the few times he'd seen his mother drunk or high, it had scared him, though he was little, and he didn't really understand it, and he knew because in case something went wrong, in case Vada needed him, he needed all his wits about him.

So he did not touch any of the liquor he and Leia kept in the kitchen. Instead, when it became obvious that sleep would not come tonight, he restlessly tried other things. He watched inane Holo programs for a bit, with the volume turned very low, and the captioning on, careful not to do anything that would disturb Vada's sleep. She'd gone to bed hours ago, exhausted by some game that had been played at her Academy. Dinner had been quiet - Han had cooked, and Chewie had joined them - and she had chattered all through it, updating him on her friends Dita and Kitto and the other little girl whose name Han always forgot. She still seemed to like the Academy Leia had gotten her into, and for that, Han was grateful. It was one less thing he had to worry over.

When the Holo programs turned out to be too mindless to really distract him, he turned them off. He wanted something to take his mind off the things that wouldn't let him sleep, and the reality shows and game shows and gossip commentary were so maddeningly boring he just zoned out of them and went right back to dwelling on Leia, and the fact that she was staying with Luke, and that she'd been subpoenaed, and that she had to see a psychologist and sit for interviews, and the Media wouldn't leave her the fuck alone, because of him; always because of him.

He wandered into her office and sat down at her desk, not to snoop, but to shuffle things around, seeking the sort of distraction she usually found in work. He'd known her to spend many a night pouring over political documents, reading history, studying diplomacy, just to tire herself out and occupy her mind. He could try the same with tactical briefs, and those military assessments Carlist was always insisting all his generals read, couldn't he? Rieekan had not allowed Han to fully withdraw his commission. He'd wanted him to think on it more, to consider more deeply what he wanted his place in the New Republic to be. He'd been understanding of Han's current situation, though, and he'd placed him on open-ended administrative leave with full pay and benefits.

Han figured he could spend some time thinking on that, on what he wanted to do. Even when he'd decided to stick around the Rebellion, he hadn't been angling for a leadership position this high up. He'd caught a glimpse of what Rieekan's job was like - a general in a peace time Republic - and he didn't think he much liked the idea. A lot of politics, not enough action - not that Han craved more bloodthirsty fighting. He just needed stimulation beyond griping at peace-time recruits about how serious things used to be.

He sat idly at Leia's desk for a while, poking around, and then leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows and scrubbing his palms over his face. It was so late - had to be; his jaw was already rough with the sparse stubble that grew in overnight. He drew one hand back and looked at it, frowning, and ran it over his jaw again. Leia did not particularly care for facial hair. He rarely ever let his grow - unless there were specific circumstances under which he needed to somewhat disguise himself - but the barest hint of it now brought her to mind again.

He wondered if she was sleeping well at Luke's. She seemed to be. She didn't look tired when he saw her in the Holos, and she hadn't looked tired when he saw her in her office two days ago, or met with her for lunch this afternoon. Then again, Leia had always been good at hiding it. Han had seen her work magic with make-up that hid even the most pronounced dark circles; her appearance at the awards ceremony on Yavin was a testament to that. She seemed serene. She seemed to have it together - and kriff, he hoped that was the honest truth of how she was doing right now. He didn't think he could stomach it if she was putting on a facade for him. He was used to being the person she didn't put on a facade for.

He ran his hands over his face again and got up, leaving her office. With nothing else to do, he went back to bed and doused all the lights, laying on his back and staring heavily at the ceiling in the dark. He figured he was still in a fog because Leia had left, though he understood she hadn't left with any sense of permanence. From a logical standpoint, he figured he also understood what her point was, in making sure he and Vada had plenty of time one-on-one, to get used to each other, to get comfortable with each other, especially since there would be so much scrutiny - but it didn't change the fact that he missed Leia, and he felt guilty. To top it all off, he was still uncertain of himself. Chewbacca gave him advice sometimes, but it was odd, Wookiee-centric - didn't often translate.

The one thing the Wookiee was good at helping with was Vada's hair - Leia hadn't had a chance to come by and sit down to talk Han through the finer points. Chewie, at least, was able to neatly comb it without hurting Vada. Even though she said she had a tough scalp, Han had seen her flinch several times when he tried to comb it, and he'd handed the task off quickly, not wanting to hurt her, despite her seeming eager to suffer through his attempts.

Chewbacca has also apparently told Malla about Han's situation and related, with entirely too much amusement, that Malla's response had been a mild - [He only has one he didn't know about?]

Han still did not find that reaction funny whatsoever. Last night - when he'd struggled to sleep, just as he was now - he'd gotten the half-cocked idea to track down every woman he'd ever known and ask them if they had any offspring, but that was a fool's errand. He hadn't been lying when he told Leia he remembered every woman he'd ever slept with - but finding and harassing each one of them was unrealistic, and probably futile. He didn't really think there was anyone other than Vada.

He rolled over to his side and dragged one of Leia's pillows closer, turning his face into it halfheartedly. It still smelled like her, though he wasn't exactly sure how. Leia never went to bed with perfume on or anything like that. He couldn't identify what it was. Just some mix of lingering conditioner and lotion and face wash and -her. He wondered if she thought the bed smelled like him. He knew she thought the Falcon's bunk did, though the first time she'd told him that, he'd panicked a little, if only because Chewie often griped at him that the Falcon smelled atrocious, noting that Han's human nose was just too inured to notice it anymore.

But she'd assured him she hadn't meant it was a negative thing. He'd still cleaned the Falcon a little bit, anyway.

The distance without - an actual break up was new for him. He had had relationships, that much was obvious, but in the past there hadn't really been a concept of working things out. He left, or she left, or betrayed him, or - in one case - died. Maybe there'd been an aspect of trying to make things work with Bria Tharen, but they'd both been immature, and selfish, and clueless. This wasn't like that. Han was jaded, and Leia wasn't immature, and neither of them were going anywhere, so why couldn't he talk himself off this dramatic precipice? Why wasn't it easy to just take her at her word and move on? Because he was used to losing everything?

That wasn't going to happen this -

Han heard a thud, and sat up quickly. He squinted in the dark, staring at the door. He'd left it open. He and Leia had been leaving it cracked, but with her gone he left it wide open. He thought that might make it seem more welcoming, just in case. He narrowed his eyes and waited, listening. Might have been the temperature unit kicking on, though that was an odd sound to -

Thud.

He heard it again, and then a small squeak, and he kicked the quilts off, swatting his hand at a bedside light as he got up. Frowning suspiciously, he considered grabbing his blaster, and then reconsidered; the likelihood that the sound was just Vada falling out of bed or something was higher than the likelihood that this was a break in, and he didn't want to scare her by storming around with a weapon.

Falling out of bed? Abruptly, he went back to that thought, and straightened, grimacing. That bed in her room was kind of high up, and she was - wasn't she? - young enough to maybe tumble out of it. Right? He went out the door and straight down the hall to her bedroom, raising his hand to knock before noticing the door was already open. He pressed two fingers against it lightly, pushing it open, and peered in, remaining on the threshold.

"Vada?" he asked quietly. "Vada, you okay?"

When she didn't answer, he ran his hand over the light sensor to flick the lights on. Her bed was empty. For a full minute, it seemed, he stared at the tangled sheets, and at Spork and Spryte, her two stuffed animals, tucked in on the pillows. Then the alarm kicked in, and he whipped around.

"Vada!" he hissed loudly.

He marched down the hall, waving a hand as he went to flick on all the sensors that caught sight of him. His heart raced. Kids her age - they didn't sneak out, did they? No, they couldn't - right? They got kidnapped, though - she was always talking about how that rich kid in her class had bodyguards - but who would kidnap -

"I'm...in the kitchen," he heard a small voice say.

He paused in the hall, his shoulders relaxing. He took a deep breath, and strolled around the corner, waving the kitchen lights on, too. Frowning, he surveyed the scene. Vada was sitting on the floor, one of the cabinets next to her wide open. At first, he thought she was just sitting there sulking, but then he realized she was nursing a gash on her knee. He took a few steps forward, his brow creasing.

"What happened?" he asked, moving her hand to look at the damage. It wasn't a deep cut, but it was bleeding. "Vada," he muttered, exasperated. Without a second thought, he grabbed her gently under the arms and picked her up, placing her on the edge of the counter. He crouched down to see better, prodding the edge of the wound.

She sucked in her breath, yawning. He looked up at her face, and she had dark circles under her eyes.

"Don't move, okay?" he said. "Lemme get a med kit. Don't jump off that counter, got it?"

Vada nodded, her lip trembling. He didn't ask her what was going on just yet, only went back to the bedroom to grab the home med kit out of his and Leia's 'fresher, and then returned. He opened it and pulled out a soft skin-knit bandage and some mild antiseptic gel, setting them aside. Then he got a clean rag and wet it with cold water to clean off the blood and get any grime out of the cut.

"Might sting," he muttered, trying to be gentle.

Vada didn't make a sound.

"So," he started, yawning himself - he knew he was tired, even if he wasn't sleeping worth a damn. "What were you doin'?" he asked.

Vada bowed her head shyly.

"I was...thirsty," she admitted. "I, um, can not stay asleep, and I thought some fizzy water might make my stomach better, and help with sleep," she whispered.

Han nodded, and she went on:

"I can not reach the cups so I tried to, um, boost myself. Leia said she...gets on the counter, sometimes, when you are not home," she explained, flushing. "I pulled out the cabinet to use it as a step but, then I fell, and it cut my knee," she trailed off.

"Huh," Han grunted, glancing down at the open cabinet. He shut it, and it made the soft thudding sound he'd heard. He supposed the second, louder thud was her falling. "Hmm," he muttered to himself, thinking. "Didn't Leia tell you not to get stuff from the kitchen in the middle of the night?" he asked slowly.

Vada nodded, her lip trembling again.

"I know, but I did not want to wake you up, and now I did anyway and I am in trouble - "

Han shook his head, deciding that probably wasn't the best thing for him to say right away.

"No, you're not," he said. "Leia's right, we gotta buy a stool," he added under his breath.

He set aside the wet cloth and very gingerly applied the antiseptic. She sucked in her breath again.

"It only feels that bad for a minute," he said gruffly, patting her knee. A few seconds later, she relaxed, as the initial sting faded. Han opened the skin-knit and applied it expertly, sealing the edges so the infused bandage would help congeal the blood and hurry along the heal of the superficial cut. He tapped her shin, and then looked up smugly, nodding. "See? Nothin' to it. All better," he soothed.

Vada lifted her leg, crooking it, and peered at it, sniffling. She wiped her nose, and lowered her leg, looking away.

"Still want that water?" Han asked.

She gave a small nod, and Han got it for her, glad for something to do. He knew she shouldn't be up, and he still had to ask her about not being able to sleep, but he let her calm down for a minute while he poured the drink from the infuser.

"Tell ya what," he said, handing it to her. "For now, how 'bout we put your own cup in your 'fresher, so if you get thirsty at night, you can just get water from your sink," he suggested. "Then you don't got to worry about hurtin' yourself, or wakin' anybody up."

He thought it was a good solution, and he smiled at her, but though she nodded, she looked stricken.

"I am sorry that I - "

"Oh," Han said hastily. "I mean, 'cept tonight. I wasn't asleep," he said, seeing what had upset her. "I, uh - yeah, I was awake," he said, and left it at that. "Just don't want you to bang yourself up, okay?" he added gruffly.

Vada looked mostly relieved.

"Okay," she repeated.

Han nodded, watched her for a moment, and then pointed.

"So, uh, hold on tight to that," he said, indicating her cup. "And let me - here, I'll get you down," he said, half to himself, as he picked her up and placed her back on the floor, eyeing her knee to make sure he didn't put too much weight on that leg in case it was sensitive. Vada put both of her feet flat, though, so straightening the cut out must not have burned too much.

"Thanks," Vada said, clutching the cup to her chest.

Han nodded. He folded his arms, looking at her patiently, waiting. When she didn't say anything for a moment, he shifted warily, and then cleared his throat.

"You want me to tuck you back in?" he asked.

Vada didn't look at him, but she nodded. He put his hand on her shoulder, and steered her back towards the hall, walking with her back to her room. He dimmed the lights a little, and put her cup on the table next to her bed while she climbed back in. She dragged Spryte, the one he'd given her, into her lap, and practically strangled the toy with a hug. Han gave her an amused look, then shifted his weight, his arms folded.

"You feel okay?" he asked. "You - said somethin' about your stomach?"

Vada plucked at the toy.

"It just is nervous," she said after a moment. "Spinning around. Not sick," she assured him.

"What d'ya mean you can't stay asleep?" he pressed. She'd said that too, hadn't she? Not that she couldn't sleep, but that she couldn't stay asleep.

"You can go back to bed," Vada said.

"No," Han insisted. He sat down with her. "Tell me what's wrong," he encouraged. "S'okay. I won't get mad."

Vada tucked her head down very close to Spryte, and then stared up at him through her eyelashes.

"My interview is tomorrow," she whispered. "With the social services lady."

Han nodded, tilting his head. He knew - he'd made a note of it, and was planning to take her to it early. He was going to make damn sure he wasn't late, and didn't forget entirely like he'd forgotten to take her to Academy the other day. It had just slipped his mind this evening because - well, she hadn't mentioned it. In fact, she'd talked about everything but that all through dinner...

"Yeah, I know," he said calmly. "It won't be so bad," he offered slowly, thinking he sounded lame and clueless.

Vada fidgeted.

"You nervous?" Han asked.

She nodded.

"Well, uh, that's okay," Han said. He nodded. "Yeah, I mean. I was nervous," he said bluntly.

Vada looked up sharply.

"You were?" she asked cautiously. "You?"

Han nodded again, seizing onto that. That ought to make her feel better for sure, letting her know he hadn't been sure about the whole thing, either. He'd already told Leia she'd probably like their evaluator, Iretta; he sure as hell ought to tell Vada the same thing.

"Yeah, 'cause I don't like authority figures," he said with a snort - how many times had he been told he had a problem with authority figures? "And I don' like bein' judged and stared at, and that's what they're doin', ain't it? 'Cause they're decidin' if I'm good enough to take care of you," he went on. It was surprising how easy the words came once he started.

He thought of something, and tilted his head, eyebrows going up.

"It might be a little easier for you, though," he said, shrugging. He let that hang for a moment, until she cocked her head.

"How come?" she ventured.

"'Cause," Han said slowly, "all this is s'pose to be about what's good for you, y'know?" he reminded her. "What's best for you, and safest for you, all that - so I bet they don't ask you hard stuff, like what your plans are. They'll just want to know if you're feelin' happy and all that," he explained. "Then the social worker, her name's Iretta, she gets to take what you said, and make a report. So," he paused, then picked up steam again, "really, if you think about it, it's like a time you get to say exactly what you want, and what you think."

Vada looked at him for a long time, and then pursed her lips curiously, perking up a little.

"Kind of," she agreed softly. "Is she nice?"

"She was real nice to me," Han said, "and she didn't have to be."

Vada nodded. She hesitated, and then took a deep breath.

"Nobody has asked what I want in a long time," she muttered.

"Yeah," Han agreed heavily. "Maybe lookin' at it that way might help you feel less nervous," he suggested.

Vada thought about it.

"Okay," she said finally, laying back stiffly.

Instinctively, Han reached over and pulled her quilts around her.

"It's not gonna be bad," Han added gruffly. "You're not on trial."

Vada rolled over towards him, her eyes wary.

"But you are, sort of," she mumbled, "and Leia. So what I say - "

"Vada," Han interrupted quietly. "All you got to do tomorrow is tell the truth. I mean it. Don't worry about anyone but yourself, okay?"

Vada cringed.

"But that is selfish," she argued. "I am not - "

"Hey, hey," Han interrupted again. "You're seven. You can't really be selfish yet, not really. Not like adults. You got to take care of you," he said, pointing at her, "and then it's okay to help other people, 'cause if you do it the wrong way 'round, everyone just gets hurt."

Vada looked at him with wide, thoughtful eyes, and Han felt his neck go a little red - where had all that come from? Had Leia said something like that once? Had he learned that from Leia, or had he learned that with Leia or - had it just come together in all his life experience? That was an interesting thought, because if he could come up with that just based on a conglomeration of all the things that had happened to him, maybe he did have some capacity for being a real good father - maybe he did have some things he could draw on, and hand down.

Finally, she reached up and rubbed an eye.

"I am just afraid that I will say something that will ruin everything," she confided in a small voice.

Han sat looking at her for a minute, and then took a deep breath.

"Viddy," he said firmly, "I really don't think that's going to happen."

He didn't add that if anyone ruined everything, it was going to be him - something he did, some way he screwed up, or put his foot in his mouth, even though he was trying so hard, because he meant it when he said that no matter what, in spite of everything, he didn't want her being handed off to her maternal grandparents. He didn't even think they had the right to see her.

Vada nodded, though he couldn't tell if she was comforted by his words. She settled down into the bed a little, and Han rubbed his forehead.

"How's your knee?" he asked, straightening up.

"Better," Vada whispered. "Does not hurt," she murmured.

"Okay," Han said. "'M gonna let you get some sleep. Try not to worry," he added.

He hesitated again, then got up, gave her a little wave, and headed out of the room, hovering his hand over the sensor to kill the lights as he did. Yawning, he rubbed his jaw as he returned to the master bedroom - that had been kind of tiring. Maybe he'd be able to get himself to sleep, now. He was about to sit down on the bed when he thought of the med kit, and went to clean it up and put it back so he wouldn't have to do it tomorrow. He'd rather not forget it about and have it sitting out begging questions whenever this next home drop-in was.

He hoped Leia was around for it. But if she wasn't, he couldn't let that throw him off. She was right when she said they couldn't expect two people to always be present in the home - that was just not how families worked, any families. Usually, at least one person worked.

He replaced the med kit, and leaned over the sink in their 'fresher to splash water on his face. What time was it? He hadn't checked, and he wondered if there was any reason to go back to bed at this point. If it was only for a few more hours, he probably wouldn't even try. He dried his face on his shirt and dragged his feet back into the bedroom. He took a step forward, then stopped in his tracks, and took a startled step back, barely keeping himself from swearing in surprise.

There was Vada, perched tensely on the edge of the bed, looking nervously at the 'fresher.

"Sorry!" she apologized immediately.

She winced, and Han shook his head, clearing it. He furrowed his brow, coming forward, and folded his arms loosely, confused. What could have happened in the five or so minutes...? He frowned, then quickly straightened it out, worried he would look angry or stern. He felt uncomfortable in the silence - she wasn't saying anything - so finally, he found something to say.

"Vada," he started simple. "What is wrong?"

He was a little more forceful this time though, he hoped, he wasn't cruel. It seemed she hadn't told him everything earlier, and he was hard-pressed to figure it out. She sat before him for a moment, staring at her feet, and he noticed she had both stuffed animals with her, Spork and Spryte each tucked under an arm. She was quiet for a long time, and then said:

"When I said I could not stay asleep, it is because of night scares," she admitted. "I keep having them. Bad ones," she whispered.

"Oh - ohh," Han realized slowly. They kept waking her up, that's what she meant. "Um, well," he started. "Hey, maybe if we put a light on in your room - "

"Can I just sleep in here with you?" Vada interrupted, blurting out the request. "Please? I do not kick or snore, I swear."

Han felt frozen, his mouth dry. He remembered coming home a few weeks ago to find her curled up asleep next to Leia, and how much it had upended his world. He had barely known what to think of that; he really didn't know what to think of this. He had no idea if that was appropriate or not. He just had so little experience with - that sort of - and it was not like he'd raised her; he'd just met her, so maybe the rules were all kinds of different - what were the rules?

He just kept staring at her, until Vada turned and looked at the pillows uncertainly, then got up, shuffling her feet.

"Or, um," she said bravely. "I will try a light - "

"No!" Han said hastily, stricken - he hated the fearful look on her face, and how brave she was forcing herself to be. "No, stay here," he said. "Just, ahh," he sighed. He held up his hands for calm, then pointed at the bed. "You - stay here, just let me, um - stay here, but wait," he said, stumbling over his words comically.

Vada slowly sat back down, and watched Han uncertainly as he strode out of the room. He rubbed his jaw, hoping she stayed where she was told, and he ducked into the office. Snatching his commlink, he paced a few times, unsure of himself. It was late. He shouldn't - but he didn't want to do the wrong thing. He didn't want to upset Vada, but he didn't want to - he didn't know what the right answer was, and he felt foolish, and ridiculous, but he keyed in his instant dial anyway, and grit his teeth hard, berating himself for waking her.

The comm only buzzed twice, and then a sleepy voice answered:

"Han? What's wrong?"

Han swore under his breath. As much as he hated that Leia never slept well, he'd half-hoped she might be awake. It sounded instead as if he really had disrupted her, and he swallowed hard, clearing his throat.

"Hey. Sorry," he said. "She's okay. We're okay," he muttered, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I, uh...Leia, she's," he paused. "She's askin' if she can sleep in the room with me," he said gruffly. "And I don't know - "

"She must be having nightmares about tomorrow," Leia broke in, her voice coming through hazily, but full of intuition.

"Yeah, um, I just wasn't sure if...since she's a girl, and I'm - "

Leia made a derisive noise.

"For Sith's sake, Han, are you going to do anything to her?" she demanded, surprising him.

Shocked, Han held the commlink tightly for a moment, and then blinked, hard.

"Am I going to - what?" He growled sharply, and the sheer outrage, the indignant offense, in his tone was an answer in itself.

Leia sighed.

"She's seven," Leia murmured. "It's not that odd for her to want to sleep in your room if she's scared and feels alone. I slept in my parents' bed with them all the time."

"Hey, I didn't grow up like you did, Your Worship," Han snapped, forgetting himself. "So I don't always got some perfect template - "

"I know, Han," she soothed, reining it in a little, "but you have to start making these judgement calls yourself. You're her father, and right now I'm just," she broke off, frustrated. "No one seems to know what I am."

Han thought he detected a small break in her voice, and he winced. He ground his teeth, taking a moment, and then took a deep breath.

"'M just tryin' to do this right," he said.

He heard her shift around.

"I know, Han," she said again.

He pulled the comm away from his face for a moment, bowing his head. He took a deep breath, tilted his head back, and held it for a while before letting it out.

"Hate that I woke you," he said gruffly. "I love you."

"I know that, too," she whispered softly.

A few seconds later, the blue light on his comm died, and Han stared at it for a bit before tossing it back down on Leia's desk. He rubbed his face, forced himself to calm down a little, and started making up some story in his head about having gone to get some water or some other drink, so Vada wouldn't be so concerned about why he'd just darted out on her.

As it turned out, that was not necessary. When he walked back into the bedroom, Vada was sprawled out on Leia's side of the bed, her head half off the pillow, fast sleep. Both of her stuffed animals were pinned under her arms. Slightly amused, Han stopped to look at her. He folded his arms, taking in the scene, and then unfolded them, and hit the lights. After letting his eyes adjust for a moment, he strode forward and very delicately pulled her stuffed animals out from under her. He laid them next to her, pulled the quilts up around her, and smoothed them down. He touched her hair, watched her sleep for a minute, and then walked around to his side of the bed and laid down on his back.

He folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling, trying to decide if he felt uncomfortable. He didn't, though he did feel sheepish over being wary in the first place. Leia was right - what was he thinking? He was no threat to Vada, and she was just a scared little girl. If this made her feel better enough that she could fall right into a dead sleep, he was glad, and he'd get used to it.

Vada rolled over, tucking her arms under her tightly. Her nose twitched.

"Daddy," she said, very clearly.

Han looked over at her sharply, unable to tell if she was asleep or awake. When she said nothing else, after a moment, he reached out and touched her forehead gently with his knuckles.

"Yeah, 'm right here," he said quietly.

Vada twitched her nose, and said nothing else, breathing evenly. Han rolled onto his side to watch her sleep, focused on her face. She looked so guileless and innocent, and his chest ached with a desperate need to protect her. To his surprise, it wasn't long before he dozed off into an alert, watchful sleep of his own, with Leia's voice echoing in his ears - You have to start making these judgment calls yourself - and a renewed resolve to take even more control of this.

Leia's commlink lay on the mattress next to her hand, having just loosely tumbled out of her palm. She stared at it through heavily lidded eyes, her lashes obscuring her vision. She always slept with it in within reach. She had since she'd become a senator and a member of the Rebellion. Such was a byproduct of the demand that she be reachable at all hours in case of emergency. She habitually answered it - it was nearly impossible for her to view a call and ignore it, or wait to see if they called back, or paged her with an emergency ring - which was why she had answered it just a few moments ago, when its shrill buzzing had dragged her out of a dreamless sleep that she had been struggling to achieve all night.

Even if she had the capacity to, she wouldn't have ignored a call from Han, not unless her current situation was more emergent than his might be. She certainly wouldn't ignore a call from him when it was the middle of the night, and he was alone in their apartment with a young child. It could have been anything; it could have been an injury, an illness, an attack -

- or, exactly what it was, which was Han bogging himself down in his debilitating insecurity over all of this, and letting it go to his head, and get the best of his better instincts.

Sprawled on her stomach in Luke's guest bedroom, she felt a mixture of things as she stared at the comm laying idly next to her hand. She was irritated at being woken up, though that was fading fast - and she found it odd. Usually, being woken up didn't bother her. Then again, usually, she wasn't asleep - or asleep well - in the first place. That she had been asleep just now was a miracle, one she'd achieved after hours of tossing and turning first. Inevitably, worry flared over Vada, knowing the poor thing was up, restless, and disturbed enough to want to sleep close to an adult. Part of her thought Han should have taken a cue from Vada's first day, and known that it was alright to let her stay in the room with him, but then again, she supposed it was fair for him to be uncertain.

If she had just been there, right next to him, for him to ask, instead of hiding over here at Luke's -

Leia sighed and turned gingerly onto her back, pushing a hand back through her hair. Not hiding; she wasn't hiding. It was good for her to be here, good for Han to get the hang of being the primary, though she could see how it could all become conflicted. She'd told him she was upset because he hadn't defined a role for her, then she fled the apartment and told him to stop calling her to validate his decisions - but she was in a complicated position. She knew - whether it was right or wrong - that in many, many cultures, most cultures, in fact, men deferred to women when it came to rearing children, even if the woman had equal or more career involvement -and that was what was happening here. Han likely wasn't even explicitly knowledgeable of it; it was just an internalized action.

She didn't necessarily have a problem with that, which was likely its own version of internalized instinct, because in the culture she'd grown up in, women were the authority on rearing children, as well as everything else, and men were expected to share equally in responsibility, but defer to the knowledge of the superior sex when it came to parenting - which was considered to be the female sex. She assumed - in a very detached way - that if she ever had her own baby with Han, she'd inadvertently be snappish with him if he ever tried to interfere with or override her instincts. But their situation was not conventional; Vada was not her baby, and she was decidedly not an infant - these assessments they were facing would focus on Han, and Han's ability as a father.

A single father, at that. Leia knew she would be assessed, and had agreed to be, but she was not - at this moment - being assessed as a custodial mother, just as a woman who would be a constant in Han's life, for the foreseeable future. Aside from the sexism that would no doubt arise in all of this, the bar she had to meet was lower. Han had to get his feet under him. He had to dig into some confidence, he had to come into his own, because as difficult as this all was, she thought her heart might break, for him and Vada both, if they took Vada away -

And then what would they do, anyway? Compared to arguing over visitation and custody, or perhaps knowing she was out there and having no contact with her, no relationship with her - well, compared to that, taking her in and raising her seemed cut and dry. If something happened and Vada was shipped off to the Vardaloses', and Leia and Han were left to grapple with the emptiness there and contend with the implications - that would be infinitely worse, wouldn't it? To have this brief drama, and then be unable to recover from it in a vacuum?

No; Han was smart enough to understand her intentions. She knew he was. He had a tendency to overreact to his first impression, but he more often than not cooled off and did some introspection and got himself straight.

She picked up the comm and looked at it idly, rolling it around in her palm, thinking back to their last words. Hate that I woke you. I love you. She'd said, I know that, too, and suddenly, inexplicably, she felt horrible about it. It was out of character, but lying here, staring at the silent device, she hated that she hadn't said explicitly that she loved him, too. Even though he knew. Neither of them had ever been the type to respond to those three words with I love you, too, nor had they ever expected it, or tallied each other's utterances. Han had been patient when she was speechless the first time he told her; she had said it with enough feeling since, in her own moments, that the little things just didn't matter.

Still somehow, tonight, it bothered her that she had just let his declaration hang. So, for a moment, she stared at her comm, and then she activated the messaging mechanism, and sent along a follow up aurebesh message, hoping that rather than jar him, or get him riled up again, it was soothing: I love you, Han. She felt he needed that, and she wanted to reassure him. She did love him. None of the complexities here came remotely close to a question of whether or not she loved him.

She tossed the comm aside and sat up, wide awake again. She rubbed her eyes, sighing, and tried not to think of how stricken Han would feel if he knew he'd disrupted her enough that she was getting out of bed. But she figured if she felt the need to, she'd just take a half day tomorrow - again. She didn't give a damn if the Holos would run a story theorizing that she was pregnant. At first she'd thought it absurd - how could they speculate that that was going on when Han had a living, breathing child for them to speculate over? But alas, a pregnancy on her part would make it that much more the consumable scandal, so speculate they did.

She took her robe off of a hook on the wall and slipped it on, tying it over her pajamas. She stopped to take a ribbon off the bedside table, and tied up some of her hair in a loose tail, pulling the majority of it out of her face. She hadn't braided it tonight, she'd brushed it tangle-less and left it down, and she didn't feel like putting it up now. Barefoot, and keeping her movements as silent as possible, she slipped out of her room and went to the kitchen to brew a cup of tea.

She watched the kettle glow, her eyes heavy but alert, and rolled her head back and forth. Her neck and shoulders were sore, riddled with tension and stress, and she reached up to rub her collarbone idly, her mind straying back to the thoughts that had been keeping her up earlier. Her life scrutinized, her inner self scrutinized - relationship questions, amidst questions over whether she was able to be what Vada would need from a stepmother type, even if she was willing.

Sometimes she thought she could make it work easily; she'd just emulate her mother. But that thought quickly turned sour, because Leia had always known that at heart, she was rougher than Breha ever was - she was not as kind, not as even-tempered. She was more like her father - both of them.

She poured boiling water into a mug of loose tea leaves and swirled them together with a honey covered spoon, dropping in a sugar cube and carrying it with her into the sitting room. She thought she might turn on the Holo and drown out her thoughts, see where it took her -

She stopped dead in her tracks, nearly throwing the hot tea all over herself as she entered the sitting room. There, on the table, silhouetted in the moonlight that was streaming through open windows, sat Luke, his legs crossed, his palms resting upwards on his knees in a saintly, meditative pose. She thought about backing out quickly, but her softest of shocked squeals - so soft she barely realized she'd made a noise - disturbed him, and he opened his eyes.

He stared at her blankly for a moment, and then shook his head, and his expression was warm.

"Good morning," he said.

Leia furrowed her brow.

"It's the middle of the night," she said quietly.

"Oh," Luke murmured. He frowned, and gave her an earnest look, unfolding his legs. He let one fall to the floor, and propped the other up, leaning forward against it. "Well, are you alright?"

"Yes," Leia said. "I was just - what are you doing up?"

Luke tilted his head.

"I was meditating," he said. "I do that before bed. Sometimes I lose track of time, and since you're up - "

"Oh, well don't let me interrupt - " Leia began hastily, taking a step back.

Luke waved his hand dismissively, and then held it out to her.

"I needed to be brought back to reality," he muttered breezily. He pursed his lips, letting his other leg come off the table and moving to the edge. He stretched his calves, and then stood up, stretching his arms and back. "You sure you're alright?" he asked.

"Distracted," Leia murmured, going to the sofa. "Restless," she sighed, sitting down lightly.

"I sensed that earlier," Luke said, sitting back down on the edge of the table. "It was worrying me, but you seemed to settle down - you fell asleep," he rubbed his face. "An hour or so ago, I think."

Aghast, Leia stared at him.

"I did - did you put me to sleep?" she asked. Had that been why she'd abruptly, finally, been able to find such a deep, undisturbed - until Han called - slumber?

"No," Luke snorted, with a yawn. "I just felt you go to sleep," he said. "It's hard not to sense you when you're living here," he pointed out. "And it was more noticeable because you were so stressed and restless earlier."

Leia flushed, glancing away.

"Staying here," she corrected softly, more for her own sensibilities. "Not living - was I bothering you? My mood? Keeping you up?" she asked worriedly.

Luke just shook his head again. He lifted his chin.

"Why are you up?" he asked.

Leia sighed.

"Han," she answered softly. "He called. He...needed help," she said, without elaborating. After a moment, Luke cocked his head.

"Is Vada alright? Is he?" he prompted.

Leia merely nodded. Luke sighed.

"I'm sorry he woke you," he said with a grimace.

Leia shrugged.

"So is he."

"You have a hard time sleeping, don't you?" Luke asked simply.

Leia leaned back, curling her mug into her stomach. The warmth burned through her thin robe and pajamas, but not so much that it hurt. She watched the steam curl upwards, and after another moment, she just nodded.

"Were you having nightmares tonight? Earlier?" Luke ventured gently. "Or could you not get to sleep in the first place?"

"No nightmares," Leia answered firmly. "Not tonight."

"Ah."

Luke sat in silence for a moment.

"Would you like me to go away?" he asked politely.

She looked up, a touch of a smile lighting her eyes. She pursed her lips, and her shoulders relaxed a little.

"No, actually," she admitted softly. "I don't want to be alone. I feel too alone, lately."

Luke brightened.

"Is there more tea, then?" he asked.

She nodded, and he got up to go fetch some. When he returned, he was also munching on two slices of toast, and he caught Leia's eye with a smug grin.

"I would have offered you some, but I can tell that you're not hungry," he said.

Leia rolled her eyes lightly. The twin thing - it was creepy. Useful, at times, but creepy. Luke sat down, in an armchair this time, wide awake and looking like he slept his heart out all the time. She smiled at him indulgently and, as she often did these days, she wondered what she had missed in not being able to grow up alongside him. He set one of his toast slices on the arm of the chair without a plate, and Leia watched crumbs flicker to the floor - and rolled her eyes again.

She tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling, wondering what time it was. She would guess closer to dawn than to midnight - which meant Vada was up far too late when she had school tomorrow, though that wasn't her or Han's fault. Nightmares couldn't be helped, and there was a lot of stress on that little girl. Luke just let the silence flow for a while, both of them settling in, feeling comfortable, and then he cleared his throat very gently.

"Why do you feel alone?" he asked.

Leia had been isolated during the Rebellion. Some of it was self-imposed, but a lot of it was due to rank and many other intersecting issues that made it difficult for others to act natural around her, or for her to form genuine, close relationships. He thought much of her loneliness had gone away since then, and he knew that Han was a big part of that. It was disheartening to think that even with him in her life, she was feeling isolated again.

She didn't answer right away. Her fingers grazed over the rim of her mug.

"Maybe I don't feel alone," she said finally, in a very tiny voice. "Maybe I feel needy."

"For, um," Luke started, hesitating. "For Han?"

She nodded slowly.

"Yeah," she said hoarsely.

She left it at that for a moment, then cleared her throat.

"The things that I...lean on him for haven't gone away just because Vada showed up," she admitted. "I want to be there for him through this without adding to his...burden."

"You aren't a burden to Han."

"I don't think that I am," Leia corrected. "I just...don't want to confide in him about any uncertainties I have regarding all this in case it sends him into a tailspin."

"Well," Luke started kindly. "What are some of your uncertainties?"

"Obvious ones," Leia said vaguely, and did not elaborate, other than to say: "Nothing that would preclude him taking Vada."

She thought all of her feelings were normal, regarding how this had complicated their lives. And none of them were hostile to his daughter. She was silent for a long time, glad Luke wasn't pressing her, and then she sat forward, pulling her shoulders in, and lifting her mug to her lips. She blew on the tea, and took a sip, staring down at the still steaming brew.

"I thought I was okay, really okay," she said huskily. "You know. Recovered. Just...okay," she said again. "With Han's attention diverted, with it not...all on me I feel...unsteady," she whispered. She let out a shaky breath. "I hate how that sounds. I hate it."

"You've already said you aren't jealous of Vada," Luke said calmly. "But maybe - "

"It's not jealousy," Leia insisted passionately. "It's not. I've felt jealousy. I know jealousy; that's not what this it. It's like I'm, I'm...fragile, or something," she forced out. "Han needs to focus a lot of his attention on Vada. She's a child. And I've made that clear. I am the adult. I'm very firm in that belief, but the reality," she shook her head. "Suddenly feeling like I can't dump everything on Han has me...fracturing somehow. Realizing he's been more of a crutch than I meant him to be and I might have to face some," she paused, her voice shaking, "things."

"Things," Luke quoted calmly.

"Things," Leia hissed. "Trauma. Alderaan. Torture. Jabba displaying me to a grimy cantina full of men. Things they did to me on the Death Star," she listed, trailing off.

Luke leaned forward, pursing his lips with concern.

"Why do you think you suddenly feel like you can't lay it all on Han?"

Leia twisted one of her hands into her ribs sharply, and gave Luke a rueful look.

"He doesn't need it right now, Luke," she snapped. "He's been my rock, my safe port in a storm, and when I've been that for him these past few weeks I've realized how much energy it takes, how exhausting it must be. I can't put that on him right now."

"Has he done anything to imply that?" Luke challenged. "Leia, I don't want to sound like I'm advocating we all emotionally torture Han, but I don't think he'd like this at all. He doesn't tend to fall apart when people need him. He kind of, you know. Gets...stronger."

"He shouldn't have to," Leia hissed. "That's the damn point, he shouldn't have to." She chewed her lip, and swallowed hard. "It's not - Luke, I have to undergo a psych evaluation as a part of this custody process and that's - I think that's affecting me, too," she admitted. "This dawning realization that I need coping mechanisms that aren't just sobbing on Han's shoulder in the middle of the night and thinking I'm better because his heartbeat put me back to sleep. I'm confronted with this glaring lack of self awareness and I can't stand the idea of a professional telling me I'm not okay."

Luke leaned closer, studying her.

"You sound pretty self aware to me, Leia," he said firmly. "Self awareness doesn't mean being unaffected by the traumas you've suffered," he added.

Leia sighed. She put her knuckles against her lips and rested her elbow on the side of the sofa, looking away. She nodded halfheartedly, and Luke watched her closely.

"You never saw a therapist during the war?" he asked softly.

She shook her head sharply.

"Mon tried to insist. I refused it," she said. "Which at the time, I thought was strength. Now," she trailed off, closing her eyes.

Luke noticed a few tears trail down her cheeks, but he didn't mention them. She wiped them away in silence, and then after a moment, her lips trembled.

"And then, if I go see this therapist, and they say I'm a lunatic, or I'm unstable, unfit - what if that affects Han getting custody of Vada? I don't want to lose him. I know he doesn't want to lose me. But what is he supposed to do - what can I expect him to do - if he's told Vada's not staying with him unless I'm not in the home?"

"Leia," Luke said sternly.

"What?" she gasped, turning to look at him sharply. "You think that's unrealistic?" she challenged.

"Yes, frankly, I do," Luke said flatly. "I don't think its unnatural to have a doomsday train of thought like this, but I also don't think crying yourself to sleep at night because of the horrors in your past makes you crazy or unfit to live in the same home with a child," he said. "I don't think any therapist is going to say that, either," he added firmly.

Leia compressed her lips.

"You're the expert?" she asked. "Or you're just being your usual optimistic self?"

"I'm not an expert," Luke said edgily, "but I've told a therapist some pretty fucked up stuff, and I was never even considered unfit for combat or to carry a weapon," he revealed succinctly.

Leia stared at him, her eyes wide, and he gave her a hard nod.

"Know why? Because usually people who are talking about it, or finding some kind of comfort – comfort that's not drugs, or alcohol, or self-harm – aren't insane. Usually they are doing the absolute best thing."

"You saw a therapist?" she asked quietly.

Luke shrugged.

"Sure, after the Battle of Yavin," he said. "Carlist recommended it, 'cause I'd never been in a fight, and I'd just lost people I loved. So I did. Then I noticed no one else was, so I quit. But I saw one again over this past year."

Leia fell silent, considering that, humbled by it. She figured she always thought the Force was Luke's therapist, but she'd clearly been wrong. She wondered if the therapist Carlist had found her was the same he'd trusted with Luke, but she didn't dare ask out of respect for Luke's privacy, and her own.

In her silence, Luke sighed.

"I really don't see any scenario in which Han is forced to choose between you and Vada unless you make him. And you don't seem to be interested in doing that," he pointed out kindly.

Leia lifted her tea to her lips. She took a sip, and seemed to sag a little, exhausted. She shook her head, looking over to the side.

"Not a single scenario?" she asked grimly, as if she were waiting for him to identify what she already had.

When Luke was silent, she looked back at him.

"What about if Vada makes him choose?" she asked.

Luke blinked, consternated.

"But," he began. "Vada likes you. Or you said she – I know you two had a rough moment but," he shook his head. "She's – "

"Desperate to stay with Han," Leia filled in honestly. "The poor thing is trying her best to be a perfect angel, and I don't think she has to try very hard," she said kindly. "Say everything works out with Han and we're both declared fit and all is well in that regard – there's no law that says Vada has to accept that I'm her – her," Leia paused, "stepmother."

She swallowed.

"I mean, this is a child who had a mother, knew her mother, and watched her die. She's not a blank slate, and when it's all said and done, she may take great offense to me being…anywhere near that role," Leia said huskily. "She's not like me. I never knew our mother."

Luke considered that for a long time.

"I suppose that would mean she'd have to feign attachment to you for long enough to ensure she stays placed with Han, and then invert her personality entirely to try to push you out," he said, giving Leia a look. "She's shown no propensity for that kind of malice, Leia," he said pointedly. "Also, she's seven. What's the most devious thing you did when you were seven?"

Leia thought about it. She gave a watery laugh.

"I dropped a water balloon on Tarkin's head. He was visiting Aldera."

Luke smiled.

"And that's not even devious, it's blatant," he said gently.

Leia nodded. She rested her cheek on her palm and looked at him, reaching up to place her mug on the armrest and cradle it there. She sighed, closing her eyes tiredly.

"It's a lot to deal with," she murmured, "all of it."

She wasn't just talking about Vada. She meant everything. Cultivating her relationship with Han – with and without Vada – was hard; so was struggling to come to terms with everything. In a bizarre turn of events, the more peace settled over their New Republic, the more often she found herself having to remind herself, with a sharp shock, that Alderaan did not exist anymore.

It seemed an easy thing to accept during the fog of war, but an utter impossibility in a civilized galaxy.

That in itself should have told her, months ago that Han was not enough to heal her – and that was no slight against Han. She loved Han for a whole slew of reasons beyond 'he makes the bad things stop hurting.' She wanted her relationship with him to be more than just a balm for the wounds of the past; she wanted it to have a fleshed out future all its own, and to do that she needed other outlets.

That was a terrifying thought, but it was a necessary one, and it was one of the things she'd been subtly talking about when she told Mon Mothma that Han and Vada were not the only reason she needed more personal time to search her soul.

She didn't want to burn out. She wanted to keep illuminating.

She wiped her nose and took another sip of tea.

"Thanks for listening, Luke," she said quietly.

He lifted his shoulder in a gesture of good will.

"I'm always here," he said. "I don't want to make you feel like your fears are irrational, Leia, but I don't want you and Han to panic yourselves into something disastrous, either," he added.

She laughed under her breath.

"Very characteristic of us," she muttered.

Luke smiled, and picked up a piece of toast, biting into it.

"You can both rely on me for help with Vada, too," he added. "I've really enjoyed her personality the few times I've met her, and if you and Han need to hash all this out, I can watch – "

Leia was nodding, some anxiety rising in her at the though. She swallowed hard.

"Thanks, Luke," she said again. "I still think – for now, Han just," she trailed off, sighing. "He needs a little more time just to get his head on straight about Vada."

Luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He understood where she was coming from. But he also didn't think Han would collapse and forget how to function if Leia was honest, and told him a little about her fears concerning the therapist. They weren't really related to Vada, after all. Han might feel guilty that in a manner of speaking, the circumstances around Vada had forced Leia's hand in some emotional confrontations, but he'd get over it.

The pseudo impasse around Han and Leia was a baffling one, because it didn't seem mired in miscommunication per se, not in the conventional way, but rather a massive preoccupation with the worst-case scenarios that rendered them both terrified to face it.

And for two people who had faced multiple worst-case scenarios in their lives, it was a little odd.

Leia seemed exhausted, though, and Luke didn't see the need to press her more. She was weepy and vulnerable, which was a rare state for her, and he was just glad she felt she could be that way if she needed to.

She wiped her nose again, and took a deep breath, lifting her eyes.

"I was thinking of asking Mon to red team Han," she said, breaking the silence bravely.

Luke swallowed, biting off another piece of toast.

"Red team?" he said. "The way Carlist always does b'fore we run a mission?" he asked.

Leia nodded. It was a military term, but politicians used it too. Red teaming was a tactic in which a pseudo-enemy was used to try and poke holes in the so-called "good guy" strategy, so that the good guys could better prepare for any aspects of an attack.

"For his cross examination in court," Leia elaborated softly. "Mon doesn't hate Han, not by a long shot, but if she and Jan could be persuaded to come at him like a Vardalos attorney might…I think it would help."

Luke gave a loud snort.

"And they wouldn't go easy on him," he said, through an ungraceful mouthful.

"No," Leia said, cradling her tea in her palms as she raised it to her lips. "No, they would not."

Luke finished his snack, and his tea, and got up, stretching.

"Well, 'm gonna go have a 'fresher," he said. "You think about getting some sleep."

Leia nodded. She watched him go, and then sat for a while, enjoying the silence. When her tea was almost cold, she got up with it, and wandered back to her room, where she disrobed, and sat up in the middle of her bed, still nursing the dregs of the tea. One of her aunts used to tell her that fortunes could be read in all those damp, mucky tea leaves, and Leia stared into hers, and wondered if it would offer any insights.

Right away, Vada decided Han was right about the lady who was to do her evaluative interview - Miss Iretta, or just Iretta, as she insisted on being called. She was warmer, softer, and appeared altogether less jaded than the other social workers. Iretta also happened to have roughly the same skin tone as Vada's mother, which made Vada feel instantly at ease. It wasn't that she begrudged people their lighter skin - in fact, she hadn't really thought twice about it when she met her father, because she'd always known - even before she knew he was Han Solo - that he must have had fair skin. But Iretta's dark skin reminded Vada of her mother and sometimes, in times like these, remembering her mother was a comfort, because when her mother was alive, she'd always known where home was.

Mostly, Iretta was in her good graces because when Vada asked if she could keep Spork and Spryte with her during the interview, Iretta said yes, and she didn't even laugh about it, or roll her eyes like it was silly. She asked if Spork and Spryte had gone to school with Vada, if they were having a good day, and what their favorite colours were - and she did all that without sounding patronizing, or like she was making fun of Vada for having them. Which made Vada feel much, much less anxious about the whole ordeal, and made it much easier to follow Iretta into a private room while Han lingered back out in the lobby.

He had to stop by the other social workers' office, he said, to do more paperwork, and ask some things about the custody challenge. He was pretty straightforward with Vada when he could be - at least, she felt like he was. He was at least getting a lot better at talking to her like he was normal. Not that she thought he was particularly abnormal. Put more simply, his shock seemed to have worn off a lot.

The room Iretta took her into was not as businesslike as Vada had imagined the office would be. In fact, it was colourful, and lined with shelves full of books that could be read with chips and datapads, as well as other toys suited for children of many, many ages. There was a casual, round table in the middle, and Vada immediately noticed it contained art supplies.

"I had heard that you like art," Iretta said kindly, "so I arranged for you to have something to do in case you're nervous. I got myself a picture book to colour in, but I'm not very good at matching colours, so perhaps you can show me," she added calmly.

Iretta spoke in Corellian, so Vada decided she would, too. She was more eloquent in Corellian, anyway, and she knew it was important she be understood here.

"I'm sorry if you're tired of sketching and shading," Iretta added, laughing. "I also heard you go to a really fun art Academy in the academic district."

"Oh, I do," Vada said, brightening as she pulled out a seat. She sat Spryte in an empty chair, and held Spork on her lap. "Leia - Princess Leia likes me to call her that," she said hastily, just so Iretta would know she wasn't be disrespectful, "said she vetted it, and it was nice, so she got me to start going there. It's really good," she said earnestly. "Every class only has ten students!"

Iretta smiled, taking a seat in a little chair. She was too big for it and such a sight might have been comical if she hadn't looked so much like she belonged there.

"That's very different from what you're used to, isn't it?" she asked.

Vada nodded, sitting forward. She tucked her hands into her lap, resting them both on Spork, and leaned heavily against the table, her eyes on Iretta.

"Well, in my public school, in Coronet City, I only went for a year," she said, holding up her hand, "because the public ones start at four, and Mommy died when I was five," she showed five fingers. "There were so many students in classes there. And in the Home, every kid just learned in one big room." She frowned pointedly. "So I don't know how anyone learned anything because there were big kids and babies, sort of."

"That is an odd system," Iretta agreed, leaning forward. She clasped her hands. "Do you like your Academy here?"

Vada nodded.

"Yes," she said firmly. "It was a little scary at first. There is a lot of security," she said, eyes widening a little, "and Leia told Dad that's so no one can take pictures of me, she tries to make them not do that," she explained. "You probably saw it, she picked me up once. Even though she's so short."

Iretta gave her a wry smile, but didn't say anything. Vada tilted her head, then glanced down at the table. She bit her lip, and looked back up.

"I didn't mean to sound insulting when I called her short," she said.

"Oh, I didn't think that at all," Iretta said breezily.

"She really doesn't want anyone taking pictures of me," Vada stressed suddenly, feeling tense. She swallowed hard. "She had a warrant issued once, I heard Dad telling Chewbacca. She tries really hard. And Dad can't help it either, I don't think, all the Media attention - "

Iretta was nodding, and Vada trailed off, her voice growing smaller.

"They are very good people," she said.

"I think you are probably a very good judge of character, Vada," Iretta said neutrally. She straightened up a little, and unfolded one hand, tapping the table. "Try not to dwell too much on singing their praises, okay?" she said gently. "Just to give you a better idea - this little meeting is about you. How you're feeling, how you're doing. I've talked to Han, and I'll talk to Leia too, of course, and my time with each of you will be different."

"But it's all to see if I get to stay with my dad," Vada said quickly, her eyes narrowing.

"It's a very big part of the evaluation, yes - "

"So why can't I talk about him being good at taking care of me?" she challenged.

"You can," murmured Iretta. "Certainly, you can. And I'll prompt you with questions sometimes, and I'll listen, and when all is said and done I will make a report. My report," she said, pressing a hand to her heart, "is an integral part of the portfolio that will be used to determine if you are in a healthy environment."

Vada was quiet a moment.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what 'integral' means," she admitted grudgingly.

"It means very important," Iretta defined brightly. "And I think it's very mature that you asked for clarification instead of pretending you understood. Too many adults need to learn to do that, don't you think?"

Vada gave a small smile. She let it linger for a moment, then frowned a little.

"But, um - well, it is kind of confusing, you are not the same as the court thing that will happen with the old crone?"

Iretta blinked, amused. She cocked her head.

"Who might that be?"

Vada blushed furiously, mentally kicking herself.

"My grandmother," she said. "But that is what my mom called her," she said breathlessly. "My mom, not Leia or my dad or anything. Mommy always called her that."

She didn't want Iretta to write down that Han and Leia were bad-mouthing her grandmother, and that make them look bad.

"Ahh," Iretta said kindly. "Well, to answer your question, I'm not entirely the same thing, but I am still part of the process. I'm sure your dad told you a lot about this, but basically your maternal grandmother is requesting she be given custody of you, and she be the one who is evaluated. She's asking for this before your father has completed his process, so if she wins her bid, your father would have to wait to try to gain visitation with you, or custody, later on," Iretta explained. "If the courts turn her down, you will simply stay with Han, and things will proceed as they are. I am part of the original process determining if Han is fit," she said, "so technically, a judge alone will rule on your grandmother's challenge in a family court, but lawyers may call anyone to speak on the matter."

She tilted her head, pausing thoughtfully.

"If I were called, I would not be able to make a formal recommendation on our evaluative process, because it is not complete, but I would be able to give my insights," she said. "I do not think your grandmother would call me to speak, but your father might ask a lawyer to subpoena me," she theorized.

"Because you're on my dad's side?" Vada asked hopefully.

Iretta put her hand out, and pointed at Vada firmly.

"I am on your side," she said.

Vada sighed, slumping back a little.

"Well, Mommy wanted me to go to my dad," she said edgily, narrowing her eyes. "That is why she told me about him and made his name be on my birth certificate."

"I saw that in your file," Iretta agreed. "I bet your mommy knew what was best for you."

Vada raised her brows.

"She tried very hard," she said solemnly, then frowned, wondering if that sounded bad, or reflected poorly on Visenya's decision making skills. She decided not to elaborate on that, and patted Spork's ears instead, waiting. "I read that I can speak to the judge on my behalf, even if I can't decide where to go," she said, eyeing Iretta sternly. "Is that true? I read it on the 'Net."

"I believe you're right," Iretta agreed.

"How can I tell the judge I want to do that? To say my own thoughts?" Vada asked.

Iretta leaned back.

"How about I make a note of it, and I let your father know he should pass that desire on to his lawyer. Do you know if he has a lawyer yet?"

Vada shrugged.

"I don't know. I thought Leia was going to do things for him," she said flippantly. Leia wasn't a lawyer - at least not to Vada's knowledge - but for some reason she just assumed she would help take care of everything. She had been in charge of a lot of things like that so far, and she still kind of seemed to be, even though she went to sleep at Luke's. "He doesn't tell me all things," Vada said. "He said he can't because it will be too much and I shouldn't have to deal with it," she repeated.

She noticed Iretta smiled a lot at that, and brightened a little. She hadn't been deliberately trying to make Han look good, that was just the honest truth. But it seemed like a good thing that she'd just said it.

"That's nice of him," Iretta said. "The longer you can be a kid, the better. Less to worry about!"

"I had to worry about a lot since Mommy died," Vada said flatly. "Like watching my back in the Home." She lifted her arm, and pulled up her sleeve, showing the cigar burn scars to Iretta. She hesitated, wondering if she should be so open - but this lady really did seem sincere, and Vada found herself more able to talk than she thought she'd be. "So stuff like this stopped happening. Did you know, my dad saw these, and he got really mad," she said proudly, "not at me," she added, making sure to explain things right, "but really mad that it happened. And then, then," she added, brightening as she remembered, "Leia asked me if anyone hurt me in the home and said to tell her, and they would do something to help."

Vada shrugged.

"But no one did, not really," she said. "Not more than anyone else got pushed around."

"I'm never happy to hear that there's bullying, but I'm glad you feel it wasn't too bad," Iretta said. "Still, if you want to talk about any of that, or maybe just vent, feel free to."

Vada nodded. She shrugged again. She didn't really want to. It was in the past, and all of this was supposed to be about making it stay in the past, forever.

Iretta cleared her throat, and pulled a drawing book towards her, picking up some glittering markers to use.

"Do you think this green and this light pink go together?" she asked.

Vada leaned forward.

"I think you should make it light pink and dark blue," she advised.

"Okay," Iretta said. She started to colour, and everything seemed very nonchalant and comfortable. "I'm going to ask you some questions now, but they're more about how you feel than anything. Talk as much as you want, and ask anything you want in return. Make sense?"

"Yes, okay," Vada said.

"What's your bedroom like at Han and Leia's?"

Vada blinked. She thought that was kind of a weird question. What did that matter? Sure, if they were locking her in a broom cupboard that would be a problem, but it definitely wasn't that. It was nice, so -

"It was for guests before I came," she said. "The bed is really big, like for grown ups, so at first I had to hop to get in it, but then my Dad bought some little steps. And, there's cloths that hang around it, so you can untie them and barricade yourself in like it's a fort," she snorted. "The walls were all kind of white and glimmery and plain, but then Leia asked me my favorite colour and she had someone paint one of the walls that colour," she explained. "It's a funny paint, you can draw on it with chalk and it's okay. Then you can erase it and draw something else."

Vada paused, thinking.

"I got a little desk, and a cozy chair, and places to put clothes - my dad and Leia got me so many clothes, too many," she said dryly. "I thought maybe they didn't have a clothes valet so they needed a lot to keep clean, but then I saw Leia's closet and there were so many dresses I think maybe she has never worn the same one twice," she said, thinking about it in awe.

Vada loved looking at all those dresses. She secretly hoped one day Leia might let her try one on.

Her smile faded quickly though, and she frowned.

"But wait, I'm not saying that like Leia is a spoiled brat," she said.

Iretta looked up intently. She hesitated, and then reached out to take Vada's hand gently.

"Vada," she said, "part of my job is to know that human beings are very, very complex. They are not what we might call 'black and white' or 'light and dark' and I can almost guarantee you that you telling me your thoughts and impressions is not going to make me see your dad or Leia in a wholly negative way," she explained nicely. "Unless of course you were to tell me you were being beaten, starved, or in some other way abused, physically or emotionally."

Vada's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, they would never," she squeaked. "No, I would not ever say that, ever, it's not true. You should have seen my dad, he lost me at the carnival the other day, and he was so scared, he almost yelled at me, like good fathers do." Vada's eyes widened even more, and she nearly fell out of her chair. "He didn't lose me!" she said, panicked. "I ran off, and it scared him," her eyes filled with tears. "I'm not saying anything right," she whispered shakily, her heart pounding.

Why was she making both of them sound so horrible?

To her surprise, Iretta merely clicked her tongue, and smiled.

"Sounds like your run of the mill family hijinks in a crowded place," she murmured, trying to keep the mood light, and conversational. She finished drawing in the section she was working on, and then looked up again. "I don't expect perfection from anyone," she said. "I like to think I'm very fair in my analyses, when I give them," she explained. "You see, plenty of families have normal problems and difficulties and challenges, plenty of parents make mistakes, and often, that's just considered part of the reality. Sometimes, people can judge unconventional situations by harsher standards than they would judge themselves, or so-called "normal" ones. When I asses your father and Leia, I won't be holding them to any impossible standards just because they didn't have you as a baby."

She squinted thoughtfully.

"Does that make sense?"

Vada sat quietly for a long time, processing it. Very few people spoke to her with such open honesty, and such confidence that she would understand complex issues, and she wanted to understand, and she wanted to be told these things. So she took her time, trying to make sure she got it.

"You are saying," Vada began, "that just because my dad and Leia are new at this, they don't get extra points taken for making, maybe...normal mistakes? Mistakes other people make, too?"

"Precisely!" Iretta said.

Vada swallowed.

"Like, um," she started, flushing. "Um, one time, I drank a cup of Mommy's wine before she noticed I was doing it, because I didn't know it was for grown ups, and she just let me sleep it off," she said. "Or one time Mommy accidentally dropped a hand mirror on my head and it broke and cut my forehead but she cried because she didn't mean to."

Iretta gave a nod.

"Things like that," she said gently. "No one took you away from your mommy, did they?"

"Well, no," Vada said skeptically. "But, no one was watching that closely," she added grudgingly. She squinted narrowly at Iretta, and the social worker laughed.

"Fair enough," she said. "I still promise I'm going to be fair," she said firmly, and then went on fluidly: "Do you mind if I ask what you call Han at home?" She had noticed Vada almost exclusively said 'my dad' in her presence.

"Dad," Vada answered. "Sometimes Daddy. But not very often."

"What about Leia, what do you call her at home?"

"Well," Vada sighed, "at first I called her Mrs. Solo, but that's not her name, so then I called her Miss Leia, but she really doesn't like that," she explained, "so I just call her Leia. But she's not at home right now," Vada said, going on without thinking. "She is staying somewhere else so Dad and I have more time together."

Vada hesitated, and then swallowed hard, feeling uncomfortable that she had said that. Maybe Han and Leia didn't want people to know that, or maybe that was bad, too. But she tried to take what Iretta had said to heart, and not start to panic. After all, Mommy had been alone with her, and that was okay...

"How do you usually feel when you're at home with your father, or on his ship, or out with him," listed Iretta.

Vada took a moment to think about that.

"Happy but kind of nervous," she said in a rush.

"What makes you the most nervous?" Iretta asked, showing no concern or surprise, just maintaining her demeanor.

Vada sucked in her breath.

"That I'm gonna get taken away," she said, "and put back in a home, or with bad people. At first I was scared because I didn't know anyone but I like them a lot, Dad and Leia, so then I was telling myself to stay quiet and kind of shy, because I shouldn't get attached, but I couldn't help it, really, so now I'm just nervous a lot that I will get taken away, or maybe that I will mess something up."

"Mess something up...like what?" Iretta asked, interested.

Vada was quiet for a beat.

"I don't know," she muttered. "Like because of me Leia and Dad might not be in love anymore or something," she confessed.

"Hmm," Iretta sighed gently. "Has Leia expressed any negativity towards you?" she asked.

"No," Vada said, and then started to continue, and then stopped. She decided she didn't want to mention what Leia had said about practicing on her. She was pretty sure she believed her dad and Leia when they said it hadn't meant what it sounded like. Besides, no matter what Iretta promised, there was no reason to make it harder for Han to have her. And that might look bad.

"No," Vada said again.

"You mentioned bad people," Iretta said. "Who would you consider 'bad people.'"

"Mommy's parents," Vada spat promptly.

Iretta looked up at the tone.

"I take it you've met the Vardaloses?" she asked.

Vada nodded stiffly.

"Once, Mommy really needed money and she took me to them hoping they might help, even though they had kicked her out forever ago," she related. "I don't know why they hated her, but for me, they hated me because my dad has fair skin," she said, matter-of-fact, "the old crone called me," Vada repeated a common Corellian slur for children of mixed ethnicity.

Iretta blinked, taken aback.

"And I know they gave a lot of money to Corellia so I wouldn't have to live with them," Vada added, not as jolted by the word, though she knew it was mean. She hadn't been raised into the upper echelons of Corellian society, where things like skin and name and wealth mattered more. On the streets, things were more homogeneous. "So, it really doesn't make sense that they want me now," she added, narrowing her eyes.

She hugged Spork tightly suddenly, tucking her chin down on him.

"Do you know what I think," she hissed quietly.

Iretta waited, eyebrows raised.

"I think they just don't like my dad," she whispered, "they don't actually like me."

Iretta sat back patiently.

"Did someone tell you that idea?" she asked, not with any suspicion or accusation, just curiosity.

Vada shook her head furiously.

"No, but like I said, Mommy wanted me to go to Han Solo," she said firmly. "And just so you know, even when he was really confused about all this, the next day, he bought me Spryte," she said, pointing at her other toy, "and he told me he was going to fight for me, even though he never knew about me, and they," she snarled, "knew about me my whole life."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Please, Miss Iretta, you have to make it so no one takes me away from my dad. I don't want to talk mean about Mommy, but he already pays more attention than her," she said tearfully. "I don't want to go and it's not fair I can't choose."

Iretta got up and came to kneel next to Vada to offer her some comfort. She took Spryte into her lap, and held the toy up so that Vada could grab both of them and hold them together, speaking quietly. Vada noticed she was gentle, and kind, but made no promises, which she supposed was fair. She didn't say what else she was thinking, because she didn't think it was any of Iretta's business, but she was also sure that if they could just make the bad people go away, Vada could find a way to make it so Leia came back, and that made Han less sad, and it would all be fine, it would be.

"Vada," Iretta said gently, "let's talk about something less distressing. Why don't you tell me about your friends at Academy?"

Vada cleared her nose, and nodded her head slowly, dropping her chin to place a kiss on top of both Spryte, and Spork's, heads. She couldn't sit here and cry a lot anyway, it would make her face red and puffy, and she didn't want Dad to know she'd been crying in here. He was doing okay when she cried, these past couple of days, but she didn't want to make him think he was doing anything wrong and lose all the confidence he had started to figure out. She needed him to have it together, so he could make it so no one took her away.

The concept of Leia 'coming over for dinner' at her own apartment was an absurd one, and it had sounded increasingly awkward each time Han heard it bandied about since she'd agreed to it last week. Vada referenced it readily enough, but the phrasing still seemed to thrust Han briefly into an alternate reality; was this apartment not one she had picked out, furnished, leased in her name, and squared away a year's rent for? He had gone from being unsure if he and Leia really lived together, to her telling legal authorities they certainly lived together, to camping out in her apartment with Vada while she stayed at Luke's - and that was the smallest whirlwind of confusion he'd experienced lately.

He tried not to let it show. He was relieved, though, when she arrived and simply walked in the door as comfortably as ever. He'd gotten some mad idea in the middle of the night that she might ring the bell, and had promptly decided if she did that he might go temporarily insane. If he had to go back to living in a reality where he and Leia weren't comfortable with each other -

But she didn't ring the bell, and he sheepishly stamped out the worst-case scenarios that had been whirling around in his head. He was in the kitchen when he heard her come in, and he had only looked up, pausing a moment to listen, when he heard Vada immediately greet her. She must have been right out there in the sitting room, and Han cocked his head and frowned - he'd thought she was in her bedroom, doing homework.

"Hi, Vada - oh, this is nice. Did Han do this?" he heard Leia asking, as he checked the temperature on the oven once and left everything to simmer. Her voice got louder as she got closer to the sitting room.

"No, he is still scared of it," Vada was answering, as Han came around the corner. "Chewbacca did it, with a funny comb he has. He does it until Dad can learn."

"Ah," Leia said. "Where is - Han," she said, both finishing her sentence, and greeting him as she spotted him.

Han strolled closer casually, crossing his arms. Hair, they were talking about Vada's hair. It was done up in neat twists. The first time Chewbacca had done it, he'd detangled it, smoothed it out, and helped the curls to fall right, and then left it long and wild, like his people did. Vada seemed to love it, but as it dried, it got more unruly, got in her face - and her school had sent home a gentle note that suggested perhaps it be tied up neatly so it wouldn't be in her way while she worked and played. After that, Chewbacca had started twisting it, and sometimes loosely braiding it, though his paws were too large to handle the tight, elegant plaits Leia did for her.

Leia gave him a bright look.

"Still scared of it," she repeated, smirking.

"Hey, I was tryin', but I was hurtin' her," Han said, gesturing. "Chewie could do it without as much pullin'."

"He was not hurting me," Vada said quickly. "I told him so, his trying was very good."

"You were flinchin'," Han accused, peering at her sternly. "You think I didn't see? Tryin' to be brave," he snorted dryly.

Vada blushed, and scrunched her nose.

"But it was not that bad. I wanted you to try," she insisted. She glared at him. "Also, I am brave," she told him.

"Yeah," said Han seriously. "I know. You don't gotta be about that kind of stuff, though," he added lightly.

"I meant to get over sooner and show you some tricks," Leia murmured.

"Don't worry about it, you got your own stuff," Han said. "Runnin' the government and all that."

Leia laughed a little.

"I am not doing much of that lately," she said mildly.

"Well," Vada piped up. "Maybe tonight, after my 'fresher, you can show him," she suggested. "Chewbacca is not coming to dinner. He is working on the Falcon."

Leia's brow furrowed.

"Is something the matter with it?" she asked. "You haven't taken her out in a while," she pointed out.

"Sometimes that can be the problem," Han muttered. He arched a brow, but shook his head. "Nah, the old girl's fine," he said. He paused, seemed about to say something more, and then shrugged - he'd elaborate on that for Leia later. He didn't want to go into detail in front of Vada in case it gave her another thing to stress about.

"Why are ships always called 'she'?" Vada asked Han abruptly.

Han blinked at her.

"Uh. I dunno," he said, glancing over at Leia.

Leia looked amused - both at the question, and Han's confusion.

"You know?" he asked.

She lifted her eyes to him wryly.

"I could take a guess," she answered, in a way that somehow suggested Han would be annoyed at her answer. Curious, he tilted his head, and then looked back at Vada, trying to decide if he wanted to make up an answer. Vada looked at him expectantly, and then said:

"Is it because you love the Falcon and you do not want to say you love a boy?" she asked.

Leia gave a surprisingly girlish, sudden laugh, and looked delighted.

"I think that's exactly why, Vada," she said, seizing on it. "I think men all over this galaxy call ships 'she' because they own them. It's an extension of a historical dehumanization of women."

Vada looked at her thoughtfully.

"Leia," Han griped. "She's seven."

"And a girl," Leia said firmly, but without malice. She turned back to Vada, and shrugged. "Han doesn't mean anything by it, though. It's just an ingrained habit that everyone sort of has, without dwelling on it."

"Oh, I do not mind if the Falcon is a girl," Vada said seriously. "I was just wondering. I was just thinking maybe all ships are called girls because people cannot really do anything without their help."

"That is an excellent point," Leia said solemnly.

Vada beamed. She turned to Han.

"Do you think that is why?" she asked.

Han's lips twitched.

"Like I'm gonna argue with that with you two," he retorted smartly.

"Good answer," Leia said. "What are we having for dinner?" she asked.

"Cushnip and choya bread," Vada said, "and Kodari-rice."

Leia's eyes lit up.

"Have you ever had Han's choya bread?" she asked, lifting her nose and taking a deep breath - she should have recognized it immediately. "It's the best. Sometimes I think he missed his calling. He ought to have been a chef."

Vada smirked.

"He could do a contest show, where he cooks," she said, looking slyly at Han. "A lot of people would watch, especially ladies. Dita - that is my friend, who has some Alderaan heritage," she reminded Leia politely, just in case she had forgotten, "told me a lot of ladies think Dad is 'hot'," she explained, repeating the Basic slang skeptically. "I said he does not seem like he has a fever, though."

Leia looked at Han, grinning. His neck turned red, and Vada shrugged.

"Oh, well, he does now," she said, pointing at the flush.

Han gave her a look.

"Ain't you s'pose to be doing homework?" he asked, tilting his head. He narrowed his eyes. "Didn't I tell you to finish it before she got here? That way you don't miss out on anything."

"Well," Vada said logically. "Not all of it is to be turned in tomorrow."

"You finish the part that is?"

She gave him a scrunched up face, as if she were choosing her next words carefully.

"Moo-oo-ost of it," she drawled. "It is easy, it is some of my catch-up work," she said, and stepped closer to him, looking at Leia shyly. "I just wanted to say hi, real quick," she explained. "I am almost done," she added again. She continued to look at Leia for a moment, and then said: "He told me to go do my homework and no one told him to tell me that," she bragged.

Leia bit the inside of her lip, touched by Vada's pride. She nodded, impulsively reaching out to touch Vada's shoulder.

"You better listen to him, then," she suggested. "I won't go anywhere," she promised.

"And also if I go back to my room for a little bit, you can kiss each other," she said, matter-of-fact.

Leia raised her eyebrows.

"I do not care, you know," Vada said, shuffling her feet. "If you kiss in front of me. I do not think it is gross," she explained, "and Mommy kissed lots of boys in front of me."

Leia looked a little alarmed. Han just cleared his throat, giving Vada a look. The little girl grinned.

"But maybe Leia would not like it if you kissed lots of boys in front of me, Dad," she joked. "Not because they are boys, but, you know, because then you would be sneaking out."

"Vada," Han said, incredulous. "Go do your homework."

She giggled, gave him a look, and nodded, turning to run off. The ribbon around one of the knots in her hair streamed behind her, loose from its bow after a day of activity. Shaking his head, Han turned back to look at Leia, his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. Leia compressed her lips, suppressing a snort. She looked after Vada, and then tilted her head at Han pleasantly.

"Her personality is really coming out," she noted. "She's always seemed more reserved than timid - which I guess is a narrow distinction - but," Leia paused, smiling. "She's poking fun at you. Seems more confident," she murmured. She looked through her lashes at him. "She's a lot like you."

"She's mouthy," Han summarized, sliding his hands into his pockets with a look like he saw right through Leia's diplomacy. He said, it, though, with a grin, and no malice intended.

"What did you expect?" Leia retorted primly.

Han grinned.

"Yeah, well," he started. "She was pretty subdued and anxious before that interview, but I guess somethin' made her feel better during it, 'cause she's been more," he jerked his thumb behind him, "like that, since."

"It's good to hear it went well," Leia said.

Han nodded in agreement, and a short silence fell. Leia pursed her lips, arching a brow at him.

"Are you going to kiss me?" she asked expectantly, a muscle in her jaw twitching as she tried not to laugh. She feigned a heavy sigh. "Never in my life did I think the day would occur that I had to ask - "

Han swept forward and caught her jaw gently in his hands, tilting her head up. He pressed his lips to hers, stepping very close, and felt her grasp the edge of his vest and draw herself up to be able to reach him better. She seemed a little starved for it, which conflicted Han; of course he was glad she seemed to be missing him, missing their intimacy, but he was dejected it was like this at all right now. When she finally pulled away, he slid his hands down to her shoulders and caught her to hug her, pressing his cheek against her head for a moment, and felt her slip her hand under his vest and press it firmly against his heart, as if assuring herself he was alive.

He kissed her temple as she slowly pulled back, and she smiled at him wistfully.

"You doin' okay?" Han asked, his hand sliding down her shoulder gently.

"Mm-hmm," she murmured honestly. "Yes, I'm alright," she told him. "That was nice. Needed that," she admitted.

Han gave her a lopsided grin, though it was absent of its usual spark. He jerked his chin towards the kitchen.

"C'mon, I gotta keep an eye on this cushnip," he said, turning and leading her into the kitchen. "I bought a step stool," he said smugly, pointing, as they entered. "Vada fell climbing on a cabinet the other day. She's fine, but finally got one, anyway. Good for you, too."

Leia nodded at it, then nudged it over to a counter, stepped up on it, and easily retrieved one of her favorite glasses from a higher shelf. She grinned, and shook it back and forth lightly.

"Revolutionary," she stated. "Well, you shouldn't have done this. Now what do I need you for?"

"Too bad you didn't just grow taller," Han joked.

"Then no one would underestimate me, and that would be a true detriment to my tactical power," Leia replied smoothly, fetching a bottle of wine from her stores and uncorking it. She gestured silently, and Han nodded, so she poured him a bit, too.

He took it, and glanced at her sideways.

"Why'd you say what you did, about not doin' much work lately? Not runnin' the galaxy?" he asked warily. "Got somethin' to do with me? All," he waved his hand grimly, "this stuff?"

"No," Leia murmured honestly. "The Media interest is still there, naturally, but as nothing truly planet-shattering has happened, with Vada well insulated, and you...behaving," she gave him a small, sly smile, "it's really more of a dull roar, repeating the same gossipy nonsense or salacious theories. Other things have happened to draw attention," she dismissed, "and we're both used to the constant bombardment. I only meant that I was serious about handling a lighter work load in the interim, for my own purposes, and I've managed that well."

"Oh," Han said. "Good," he added gruffly. It made him happy to hear that a slowing down in her work demands wasn't due to him, and even happier to know she was being serious about taking it easier on herself - during the Rebellion, getting her to rest or relax or delegate her workload had been nearly impossible. He cleared his throat and poked at the rice simmering on the stove.

Leia took a sip of her wine quietly and watched him, wrapping her free arm around her middle.

"What did she mean by 'catch up' work?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh," Han said again. "Since her schoolin' wasn't good before she came here, the teachers are tryin' to make sure she gets up on equal footing, so instead of givin' her the study hall, she goes to some tutoring and gets worksheets," he said. He frowned. "I didn't really want 'em to do that, 'cause it sounded like makin' her do a bunch of stuff and takin' away a lot of fun, but they said it would help her, and said she, y'know, wanted to learn, so I signed some stuff to let 'em them help her," he explained.

He shrugged.

"Seems like she's enjoying it," he said slowly. "Don't think it's too hard for her. She's real smart. She asks me for help on the mathematics sometimes."

Leia's eyes searched his face softly, her expression unreadable.

"And I'm just hearing about it now."

He thought she was being critical, but then a second later he realized she was driving home the point that this was something he'd done on his own, his own decision. He smiled a little, and nodded.

"Yeah, someone was waiting for me with her, when I picked her up a couple of days ago," he paused. "I was gettin' better at that stuff, y'know, I just called you…the bed thing seemed kind of different," he trailed off sheepishly. "Still sorry about that," he muttered angrily at himself.

Leia sighed.

"I didn't mean to snap at you," she said. "I'd finally gotten to sleep, that's all. And I thought…"

She didn't finish. She'd thought he was still so incredibly stunted he'd be reaching out for everything, but he'd just shown she was wrong about that. That relieved her so much more than she expected – it told her it wasn't useless of her to give Han some space to come into his own.

A nagging voice also tried to hiss at her that maybe she'd been the problem in the first place, and she'd still be a problem if she continued to be a part of it, but she fought against that voice violently, ignoring it.

She cleared her throat.

"Did she end up staying with you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Han said. "Slept like a rock, too. And like I said, she seems a lot more optimistic after her meeting with Iretta," he added.

Leia nodded. She took another sip of wine.

"Have you heard anything further from the Vardalos clan?" she asked quietly. "Or anything related."

Han glared over his shoulder, stepping back to check and make sure Vada wasn't anywhere near. He strolled over and cleared the entire hallway –- smart, considering – before answering.

"Not really, not directly," he said muttered, "but they're doing stuff – or their team is – that they're not hidin'," he griped. "You know why Chewie's muckin' around with the Falcon right now, even though nothin's wrong with 'er?"

Leia arched a brow.

"One of you is always doing something to that ship," she pointed out lightly.

"Yeah, 'cause we had an idea, 'cause we want to," Han said heatedly. "I got a legal notice slapped at me, part of a private investigative subpoena, that says I gotta let it be looked at by safety technicians, and provide a complete history of its inspection clearances, its cleared weapons systems," he listed.

He grit his teeth, agitated, brow furrowing.

"Like I got it inspected for safety and regulation," he growled. "What was I gonna do, walk it into a port and let bounty hunters and Imperials just grab me? 'Ah, damn, ya got me Jabba, Vader, just had to get my papers updated, oh well," he gnashed his teeth. "And, y'know, the weapons may not all be – legal or – or authorized, but they're stable, you've been on that ship a thousand times, Leia, you know it's…what she's worth."

He shook his head, frustrated, and stepped back, turning to Leia. He tapped his hand on the counter tensely.

"Should I not be callin' her – the Falcon – a she?" he asked suddenly, bewildered. His brow darkened – another thing to worry about, policing how he talked other than swearing.

"I think we can discuss the etiquette of gender pronouns related to inanimate objects at a later date," Leia said blithely.

Han blinked at her.

"Sure," he muttered – obviously. "Anyway, Chewie offered to go over the whole ship and install a bunch of safety failsafes and double override systems, which makes it less functional, and less safe, if you ask me," he growled, "but it's all I can do right now – and he's fittin' a smaller chair, and crash webbing for her age and dimensions, so that'll be good. Better late than never."

He shrugged harshly.

"I can't forge a bunch of inspection documents, 'cause I don't think Mon would appreciate it if I hacked a bunch of your New Republic archives and stuff. Besides, I figure if they're asking for that stuff, they already know I don't have it. More stuff to prove I ain't worth a damn," he said bitterly.

"I think you're doing all you can do, Han," Leia said quietly. "They have the means and the malice to play dirty."

He turned to poke at some of the food, and shrugged jerkily. Leia tilted her head, setting aside her glass.

"I know you don't need me to tell you that you are worth a damn," she murmured, almost sternly.

Han grunted and straightened up, running a hand back through his hair. He smacked his palm against his own cheek roughly, as if to wake himself up, and then folded his arms defiantly.

"Dunno, Leia," he said tightly. "Been goin' over a lot of my life in my head and wonderin' what the fuck I was doin'," he confided.

"Normal," Leia retorted. "Normal, considering. Just try to separate actions you took out of necessity, out of a lack of privileged options, from actions that were rooted in your character, in your soul."

She picked up her glass and took a thoughtful drink.

"And remember everyone does things they learn from, and wish they could take back, when they're young. Mean things. Selfish things. It doesn't mean you're rotten to the core for the rest of your life."

"Yeah, yeah, you think I'm an angel," Han muttered.

Leia peered down at her wine before finishing the rest of it unhurriedly. She ran her tongue over her lower lip, and turned to put the glass in the sink, limiting herself to one this evening. She shook her head to herself, and leaned against the sink for a moment.

"I don't think you're an angel, but at times you have been my angel. I don't like this habit you've gotten into of trying to convince me you're not good enough. How many times do I have to tell you that it is an insult to my intelligence?"

She heard Han messing with the burners and the food. After a moment, when he turned to look at him to gauge his reaction, she found herself staring into his shoulder. He rested his palm against her hip, and pressed his cheek to the top of her head contritely.

"Sweetheart," he mumbled apologetically. "I think you're very intelligent," he drawled.

It brought a small smile back to Leia's lips.

"Would you kindly go back to arrogantly telling me all the reasons why I'd be mad not to love you, then?" she requested.

He kissed her temple, wrapping one arm around her in a hug that pulled her closely back into him.

"You got it," he said huskily, resolving to do just that.

He kissed her behind the ear, and when Vada came skipping around the corner into the kitchen, he lifted his head, but didn't entirely pull away. Leia tilted her head, watching Vada come around and clamber onto a stool at the raised bar.

"Vada," she greeted again. "Homework finished?" she asked automatically.

Han did step back this time, and gave her a look.

"Mm-hm," Vada said with a nod, promptly placing her datapad on the counter. "I did not really have any trouble tonight, and I double checked because I was rushing. Can you check it?"

Han nodded.

"Gimme a minute," he started.

Leia learned forward cautiously.

"If you want to let him finish up dinner, I can check it," she offered.

Vada gave her a wide-eyed look.

"It is just homework for kids," she said. "You have important work to do," she told her.

"Your work is important," Leia replied calmly, and waited.

Vada chewed on her lip, then perked up, and nodded excitedly. She handed her datapad over, rattling off the names of the tabs that had her digital homework files in them. Leia scanned through, noticed that one of the tabs was for a 'Net location labeled Corellian Custody Laws, and made a note to mention it to Han, though she did not react or call Vada out on it presently.

It did break her heart a little how much Vada must be stressing over the whole thing.

"I am a good reader, so it is mostly mathematics and physics and other stuff, on there," she said. "And Basic grammar," she added sheepishly.

"Tell you what," Leia suggested. "I'll check the grammar and physics, and Han can check the mathematics. He does more mental calculations than I do, with flying and whatnot. He knows it better."

Vada nodded, accepting the bargain. Leia tapped onto the grammar tab, embracing, for a brief moment, how ludicrous it seemed that she was standing in a kitchen on Coruscant, checking her boyfriend's daughter's homework.

It was so unlike anything she would have dreamed –

"Oh, um, Leia?" ventured Vada, ducking her head a little.

Leia raised her eyes, giving her full attention.

"I wanted to say to you…not to be nervous to talk to Iretta," Vada said, with a faint blush. "The social worker that interviews us. She is very nice. She is very good."

Leia smiled, tilting her head. Before she could answer, Vada went on:

"And, um, thank you, too for…talking to her," she said, staring down at the counter, "because I think…I know, um…you do not have to, but you are. And I want to stay with Daddy."

Leia bit her lip, her heart aching for Vada. She nodded to her sincerely, taking a quiet, deep breath.

"You don't have to thank me, Vada," she said kindly. "I want you to stay with Han, too."

Vada looked up quickly, assessing her, and smiled, relieved. She brought her hands up and folded them on the counter, her whole body visibly relaxing, and Leia looked back down at the datapad, breathing out quietly. She felt Han's eyes on her, burning into her back, and knew that he was still struck with the absurdity of it sometimes, as well.

It was so unlike anything she could have dreamed, and yet if they could just fight their way to making it normal, it was far, far from the worst thing that could have happened to them.

Conducting what amounted to be a re-haul of the Falcon's safety mechanisms and override systems was lengthy work – difficult work, in some cases, as the ship was old, and Han and Chewbacca had to find increasingly nuanced ways to update certain things. Computer systems were relatively easy; physical parts were sometimes tricky.

It wasn't something Han particularly minded, considering how fiercely protective he was of his ship and how stimulating he found it to find new and involved ways to modify her – it – or update it, though the reason he was so focused on doing it now was still something that irritated him to no end.

Coming after the Falcon as evidence of his unsuitability to take care of Vada was – it was so – it felt like a direct indictment of his soul, of who he was. Throughout the years, the Falcon was one of the few things he'd have gone to hell and back for; it was the only thing he had owned, taken painstaking care of – dirt and grime did not count as neglect – and preserved. So what if he never got it inspected by the uptight, nosy authorities; so what if it had some illegal weapons configurations on it? He'd been a part of the Rebellion, which was technically an illegal weapons configuration in itself, and they were in charge now!

This ship, he felt – his ship – should be a testament, somehow, to his character – not to mention it had routinely saved the lives of some of the galaxy's most important actors – Leia, Luke, Chewbacca – it had protected them and endured much beyond what an average ship was capable of, and he'd be damned if he let it be belittled, or be the reason someone tried to claim he'd be a bad father.

He had plenty of his own reasons to think he might be a bad father. The Falcon was not one of them. And Vada liked the damn thing. She was always opening the Navicomputer to stare at system routes, or sitting with Chewbacca or Han – when she was out of school, and a safe distance back in case in sparks flew – to ask what they were doing, and why it would help.

It slowed things down a bit, when they had to worry about watching her, and her safety, while at work, but it was nice, and Han always felt a surge of giddy pride when Vada showed such interest in the ship. It might be that she was just feigning it to flatter him, but it seemed sincere.

She was smart about ships, too. Han already thought she'd probably be a great pilot, someday. She picked up on things quick, and she did seem to love reading books that had to do with ships. She kept reminding him that one of the only books that had not been messed up at the home had been one on flying, and one on engine repair – because they were so boring to the other kids.

Han grinned to himself, thinking of it. Vada was at school right now, so he and Chewie were aggressively absorbed in their work, but Vada was always on his mind now. The good thing was, it wasn't so much in a way that left him full of shock, or dread, or uncertainty. It was starting to be in a way that once in a while, he'd just think of something funny she said, and laugh out loud about it.

Which was good, he expected. It was also something Leia would want to know – something she'd be glad of. He'd tell her about it soon; he just didn't want to bug her too much at the moment. Her interview with Iretta was tomorrow, and he wanted her to be able to work or relax or reach out to him – whatever made it easier on her.

Tightening a bolt on the seat he was working on, Han pushed himself out from under it gingerly, careful not to scrape his head. He ran his hand under his nose, wiping dust away, and then sat up, shaking his head loosely and then dipping it down to his shoulder to rub sweat off on his shirt. He cleared his throat, and then hoisted himself up, thrusting the hydrospanners into Chewie's seat and collapsing in his own.

He had just finished fixing the seat behind Chewie to be compatible with child-sized crash webbing – something that would fit Vada perfectly, rather than the standard one-size-fit all stuff they already had. He'd also made sure he would be able to snugly fasten a booster seat in it, because Vada was technically supposed to be in one in her age, though that was something the galaxy had a damn hard time regulating – what parents did with their own kids in their own ships.

He'd also bolted that particular seat to the ground, so it didn't spin, added additional shock absorbers, installed new cushioning, and updated the upholstery. As far as he was concerned, it was Vada's seat now. Though he wasn't above teasing Luke and telling him he'd made that child's seat special just for him.

Han swung around in his chair and propped his feet up on the control panel. He narrowed his eyes and stared out of it, taking only a moment to glance at the chrono to check the time. He had a meeting – sort of – with one of Vada's friends' parents before he picked her up from Academy; Dita's mother, the one who Vada always made sure to say was half-Alderaanian. It wasn't a really a formal meeting so much as – well, Han really wasn't sure.

Vada had asked if Dita could come over and see the Falcon, as she knew all about it. Han, not thinking anything of it, had simply agreed – but then Vada told him Dita's mother wanted to meet him first. At first, that had made Han a little uncomfortable, irritable almost, because he'd wondered if the woman just wanted to meet him because of all the rumors, and the gossip, and his connection to Leia –

But when she'd seen the suspicious look on his face, Vada had quickly demolished that notion, informing him that Dita's mother wanted to meet him because he was going to be in charge of watching her daughter, so she wanted to make sure it was safe. Vada said that since the divorce, Dita's mother had been twice as protective of Dita and her whereabouts.

Which made perfect sense, and Han felt silly for thinking it would be anything else. Of course a sane mother would want to have a face-to-face interaction before allowing her seven-year-old to be cared for by someone else. Han realized with a sobering jolt that Vada having friends over meant he'd temporarily become the responsible guardian for more than one kid – mind-boggling – but he also appreciated that Dita's mother appeared to ignore his Media reputation and wanted to speak to him herself.

Vada's mention of the woman's divorce had also given him a thought, which he hadn't mentioned to anyone yet, though he was planning to broach the subject this afternoon.

Han was picking at his thumbnail when Chewbacca ambled in with a mild growl, then spotted Han in his seat and growled more indignantly. Han smirked, but got up quickly – Chewie was right, that was the only one he could fit in.

He dropped down in his pilot's chair instead and put his feet right back up, stretching his arms out on either side of the chair.

"How'd that override programming go?" he asked.

[Like you said, time consuming, and requiring that many overrides to fire a weapons system is counterproductive,] muttered Chewie, [but if it is necessary, it is necessary.]

"Yeah," Han muttered. "S'just for now, really," he placated. "Once everything's settled and we get rid of all these narcs, we can disable 'em and just teach Vada not to mess with stuff she ain't supposed to," he said dryly.

[Yes, she is old enough to know better,] Chewbacca agreed slowly. [Then again, perhaps we should leave them indefinitely – if you ever have a baby or a toddler, they won't know any better,] he reckoned.

Han grumbled at that unintelligibly.

"You end up doing numeric codes or passwords for the overrides?" he asked.

[Passwords, because it seems your cub is fairly decent at breaking numeric code patterns – or at least, I think she will be,] he warbled sagely. [I set all the passwords to a default, but you can change them if you prefer.]

"What's the password?" Han asked, interested.

[Mr. Han Organa.]

Han glared at him.

"Hand me those hydrospanners, would ya?" he asked sternly.

[No, you'll throw them at me.]

"I will not!" Han protested. "How old d'you think I am?" he said, affronted, then leaning forward to grab them.

He smirked, drew his hand back to throw them gently anyway, and then changed his mind. Instead, he tucked the hydrospanners into waistband of his trousers, shrugging.

"Know what? That's fine," he decided. "Doesn't sound bad, does it?" he retorted, looking at Chewbacca boldly. "Kind of rhymes."

Chewbacca snorted.

[Why don't you go doodle it on some notebooks?] he suggested, snickering.

"Maybe I will," Han threatened.

Leaning back, Chewbacca shrugged, amused. He cocked his head.

[How is Leia?] he asked.

"Fine," Han answered edgily.

[Convincing.]

"She tells me she's fine," Han amended. "What'm I s'pose to do, refuse to believe her?"

[You used to refuse to believe her when she said she didn't like you,] Chewie pointed out.

"Kinda past that sort of behavior," Han said loudly. "Besides, she was probl'y tellin' the truth about not likin' me," he said smugly, "since she loved me, and that's a whole different thing."

Chewbacca rolled his great, dark eyes, and grumbled something that sounded like humans.

[You don't believe her, do you?] he asked.

"Dunno, Chewie," Han sighed. "I think I kinda do. At least, I believe her when she says she's not mad at me, and I…guess I believe she doesn't wanna leave."

Chewbacca nodded.

"But," Han muttered. "I think there's things she's not tellin' me and I'm not really sure how to approach it 'cause she wants me to focus on Vada. And it doesn't help that she won't come home," he added, picking up steam. "Just makes it feel like it's fallin' apart, y'know?"

[No.] Chewbacca said firmly.

Han blinked at him, taken aback. Chewbacca shook his head, raising his shaggy eyebrows.

[I am never at home. Malla and Lumpy know I love them. I know they love me. We communicate. Our family stays very strong. Distance is not automatically a harbinger of disaster.]

Staring at him uncertainly, Han shifted, dragging one leg off the control panel.

"That's different, pal, you got the whole Life Debt thing – " he started uncomfortably.

[Malla bound herself to me before that. We had Lumpy before that. She did not know she was committing to a mate who would take on a Life Debt. I had often been gone before, on adventures, but this was different. It was not always a perfect adjustment. But she chose to adjust, and then it became the norm that I was not ever there.]

Han felt deeply disturbed by that revelation.

"Chewie," he muttered, "you never said you and Malla had problems because of me."

[That is really none of your business,] Chewbacca growled mildly. [It is also foolish of you to assume the entire complexity of a long, ancient history of the Wookiee cultural importance of a Life Debt is about you.]

Chastised, Han kept his mouth shut after that, his face flushing, and just listened.

[Malla and I are very happy. We love each other very much. I am not talking about myself.]

He paused after that.

[I do not presume to know anything about your relationship with Leia, but maybe she is going through something such as Malla did. She doesn't want to leave, or end things. She just needs to adjust.]

Han stared at the leg he still had propped up for a long time, thinking.

"Yeah, I mean…I know that, Chewie," he muttered slowly – he did. He understood that it was an adjustment; it was for him, too. "Just feels like she's pullin' away from me," he admitted.

He paused a moment longer.

"Like now she can't tell me stuff she wants to talk about."

Namely, she couldn't tell him she had doubts or concerns about Vada – if she did – because that would make him feel worse, make him feel like he had to choose, et cetera, ad nauseam.

Chewbacca just kind of stared at him for a minute.

[Then you need to grow thicker skin,] he growled flatly.

Han glared at him.

"What the hell's that s'pose to mean?"

Chewbacca shrugged roughly.

[If you think she doesn't want to talk to you because she thinks you'll take it the wrong way, then you're the problem.]

Alarmed, Han drew his other leg off the panel, and placed both feet on the floor, whirling towards Chewie.

"No, that's not what I mean," he said, frustrated. He stopped, and wasn't sure what else to say. "I don't think she's afraid because she thinks I'll…get mad at her, I think," he trailed off again.

His chest ached uncomfortably. What did he think?

"I don't know what I think she thinks because I haven't really talked to her!" he said finally.

Chewbacca eyed him intently.

"For Sith's sake, this isn't usually our problem!" Han snarled.

After a moment, Chewbacca cocked his head sympathetically.

[It has been, in the past, though,] he reminded him gently. [Talking. It has been a problem before.] He paused pointedly. [And you both found a way to get past it. To get better at it.]

Han rubbed his forehead so hard Chewie thought he might rip his skin off.

[Think about how you took those steps,] Chewbacca encouraged. [What got you to that point?]

Han lowered his palm and stared at it for a moment. He looked up and glared at Chewbacca darkly.

"Near death experiences," he growled, deadpan. "I guess we shouldn't have killed Vader if we wanted to be able to talk to each other."

His sarcastic answer hung in the air, until; Chewbacca arched his eyebrows and gave a surprised, muffled snort:

[You two didn't kill Vader, the Emperor did.]

Han glared at him a moment longer, and then to his own surprise, broke into a laugh that was at first reluctant, and then genuine. He shook his head, slouching back, and continuing to laugh at how ludicrous it all was.

"Leia wanted to, though," Han snorted.

Chewbacca drew back his lips in a wide grin. Han shook his head slowly until the laughter died down, and then raised his eyes with a sigh.

"Yeah," he mumbled, mostly to himself. "Yeah, I guess we'll figure it out."

He'd have to think on Chewbacca's word more. See how Leia's interview with Iretta went, and how this upcoming meeting with Dita's mother went. He knew they had another home visit coming up, too, so maybe if they could get past that – maybe once he had a few more days under his belt of thinking of Vada as normal, instead of a shock, he'd be able to better analyze things with Leia.

Leia felt her interview with Iretta started off right if for no other reason than the woman easily agreed to come conduct it in Leia's office. Though she grimaced at the idea that it might seem to social services like a calculated power play, Leia's honest reasoning behind it was that she did not want to be seen visiting that section of the Corellian Embassy. She did not want to fan more flames, or draw more speculation, especially as she would be going alone. She had not heard anything more from the Vardalos lawyers since she'd been given her summons, and some - some - of the fanfare around Vada had quieted a little as no new, explosive information was coming out.

She endeavored to keep it that way.

If Iretta did think it was Leia's way of attempting to get a sort of upper hand, she did not show it. At the prescribed time, Ulrixa buzzed to announce that Iretta had arrived, and lead her into Leia's office. She then departed to get the tea and refreshments Leia had requested, leaving the door open so she'd be less disruptive upon her return, and Iretta dipped her head respectfully as Leia stood and came around her desk.

Instead of bowing, as her counterparts had done, she extended her hand politely, hesitating, and then saying:

"Good morning, Leia."

Leia took her hand, nodding.

"Iretta," she said.

The social worker let out a breath, smiling a little wryly.

"Can I admit that it felt very awkward to call you only by your first name?" she asked. "Han told me that is what you preferred in private settings, however," she shook her head, eyebrows raised, implying she still felt like she was about to be chastised.

"It is what I prefer, thank you for taking it to heart," Leia said. "Many people don't. Many seem to think they are cleverly calling my bluff, but all it really is is an ignorant refusal to honor my wishes."

Iretta nodded, her head tilted with interest.

"I've passed a test, then," she said.

"Oh, I believe I'm the one being tested," Leia said mildly, and extended her hand to sofa. "Please sit," she offered. "Ulrixa will be back with refreshments in a moment."

"Thank you," Iretta said, to the offer of a seat, and the idea of refreshments.

"I appreciate your willingness to conduct this interview in my office," Leia said. "I hope the request did not come off as overbearing."

"Not at all," Iretta said quickly, placing her satchel on the floor neatly, and taking out some data files and a holopad. She placed them neatly on the table and folded her hands, interlocking her fingers. She sat formally on the edge of the cushion, looking up. "I understand where you're coming from. An unknown woman who is possibly Corellian walking in to the old Imperial Palace is not nearly as interesting as the Princess of Alderaan walking into the Corellian Embassy during, well," she waved her hand, "all of this."

Leia simply lifted a brow, and nodded archly. She stepped back from the door as she heard Ulrixa coming back, and let the assistant stroll in and place a tray of assortments on the table. Leia dismissed her with a polite nod, and Ulrixa left, shutting the door tightly. Leia turned her head to look at the light indicators on her desk console; they all turned red, as Ulrixa flipped the switch outside that not only scrambled anyone who might be trying to bug her, but indicated she was unavailable to calls and pages.

She took a deep breath quietly, and then took up a seat in a comfortable chair angled towards Iretta. She gestured at the tray.

"Help yourself," she suggested. "All the usual staples."

Iretta nodded again gratefully, and fixed herself a cup of tea. Leia knew it would probably make the moment comfortable if she fixed herself one, too, but she didn't feel like eating or drinking - or even pretending to. She was not necessarily nervous - she'd been through things that induced anxiety far superior to this - but she was cautious, and suddenly wishing she'd asked Han more about what exactly this had been like.

It wasn't the psych eval. She wasn't undergoing that until next week, though the way she dwelled on it at night made it feel as if she was undergoing it in a constant cycle. It was just an interview. But it wasn't a job interview, or a political discussion, it was an assessment unlike any she'd ever been through, wasn't it? After all, this woman was collaborating with others to decide whether or not the home Leia had with Han was decent enough for Vada, whether Han was decent enough for Vada -

"Do you mind if I ask you first what the 'A' in your initial of your second name stands in for?" Iretta asked lightly. "I'm supposed to note all your legal details, but I never could find more than the initial."

"Amidala," Leia offered promptly. She paused momentarily, and then cleared her throat: "It's common on Alderaan for public figures to keep their second names very private," she said. "Sometimes, the second name is the one the family uses, the primary name is the regnal name," she explained. "My parents were very protective of mine. I never saw a reason to change that."

Iretta nodded.

"That's an interesting cultural practice," she said. "Useful."

Leia merely watched her correct a document.

"And if you'll verify some other biographical details," Iretta murmured, going through them.

Leia hesitated when she reached date of birth.

"I was never made aware of my true date of birth," she said slowly. "I'm not entirely sure my father knew it," she added, though lately she'd begun to assume that was false. He'd always said he didn't know what it was, but that was when he'd told her she was a refugee orphan whose parents had been fleeing slavers. Given what Luke had told her about her true history, she suspected Bail Organa had known exactly what her real birth date was, and gone through great lengths to scrub it from record.

It was among things she didn't like to think about, because it brought to mind her Vader connection, and for that reason, she'd never asked Luke if the day he celebrated his Life Day was his actual date of birth, thus determining when hers was.

"I can likely find out," she said grudgingly, "but I've always used my date of adoption as the legal date," she said, giving it, and watching as Iretta matched it to what she had on file.

"That matches what you've always used legally, so as far as I'm concerned, that's what matters," she noted. She smiled a little. "Can't be more than a couple of months off, right?"

"I wouldn't think so," Leia agreed.

Too much deviation would be questionable in a physical sense.

"It's fitting, I think, because from what I understand, Han doesn't know his exact date of birth either," Iretta said with amusement.

"Well, he knows the month," Leia murmured.

Han had been so little when his mother died that he'd forgotten what day specifically she had celebrated his birthday with him; he'd only recalled the month. He told her once when he went looking for a public record of birth. There wasn't one. Jaina had never filed it or obtained one. More reason as to why Han had fake documents so often - not necessarily due to purely nefarious intentions.

"At least you can both be sure of Vada's," Iretta offered.

Leia smiled.

"Yes, she'll be eight soon," she noted, firmly showing off her knowledge of Vada's information. Leia was good with data anyway, given her job requirements, but she'd been sure to make sure she knew everything about Vada, for evaluative purposes and - well, why wouldn't she? Vada was living in her home. Vada was going to live in her home. She deserved to be known.

Leia arched a brow.

"With any luck, her eighth Life Day present would be us letting her know she is staying with her father," she noted, somewhat coolly.

"I'd certainly like that," Iretta said honestly, accompanying her words with a shrug to show Leia she had no qualms admitting it. "As I told Vada, I'm on no one's side but hers, but as a Corellian I'm always rooting for family to be successful. It makes me happy to keep them together," she said, waving her hand, "providing everyone is safe and happy and healthy."

Leia was quiet for a moment, and then ventured:

"Do you have any real concerns about safety, happiness, or health for Vada in Han's - ah, our - care?" she asked.

She fumbled a little, unsure how to phrase it. It was sometimes difficult to separate the two processes that were going on; Corellian Social Services was evaluating Han as Vada's guardian, and interviewing Leia as part of the process merely because she lived in the home, and seemed to have a more lax view of the situation in that that respect. In other words, they were evaluating Han, and thus trusting Han's judgment as the guardian when it to came to Leia. The Vardalos clan was looking at Leia on a personal level and more intently - probably demanding a custodial definition. It all got muddied together sometimes.

"That's a fair question, and to be honest, I currently do not," Iretta said frankly. "And as I told both of them, this really isn't a regimented interview so much as it's a preliminary conversation - and other meetings we have will be conversations, too, as this process drags on," she explained. "If you'll excuse a bit of personal bias, Vada might be the best off social case I've dealt with in a while. Of course, families can hide all kinds of dark, abusive secrets, but," she waved her hand again, dismissive.

Leia only compressed her lips thinly. She wondered how quickly all of this would go up in flames if anyone - Corellia, the Vardaloses - were to find out she was related by blood to the worst tyrant the galaxy had ever seen. She wondered if they'd care to look past the association. And she tried to force herself not to dwell on what she was going to do about all that when the time came to reveal the truth.

Not now. The time for all of that was...not now.

"You and Han currently live in the home together, right?" Iretta asked. "Vada's home, I mean."

Leia pursed her lips.

"Yes," she said simply.

She did not consider it a lie. She did live in that apartment. Her name was on the lease and she paid the bills, from a practical standpoint, and as she'd told Han - whether or not he chose to believe her - she had no intention of being gone forever.

"How long had you and Han lived together before he found out about Vada?"

Leia tilted her head to the side. That was a more difficult question. She'd been leasing the apartment for eight months. She and Han had both been permanently back on Coruscant, their assignments overlapping, for five of those months. He'd had free reign of the place, and spent more time there than on the Falcon, for -

"Four months," Leia said. "Loosely."

Again, she didn't consider it a lie. Just because there had been definitive statement in which Han stated he was living with her, he had practically been doing so.

"Can you estimate how long you and Han have been together?"

Leia resisted asking what purpose these particular questions had. She supposed they were stability based, but they still nettled her. Still, this was a legally protected interview; severe consequences would fall on Iretta if she broke trust, and Leia had already assessed her as decent.

She pondered it for a moment, her expression guarded. She didn't think there was any traditional way to quantify it. What would Han say? Had Han been asked this question? He hadn't talked much about his interview. She guessed he'd have hated how invasive it felt as much as she did. She briefly amused herself wondering if Han had looked this woman dead in the eye and informed her he had been with Leia since the date of the Yavin victory ceremony, which was something he liked to dramatically claim when he was telling people how smitten Leia was. The thought had her smirking.

She ultimately chose to count backwards to the flight to Bespin.

"Almost two years," she said.

Then, surprising herself, she added:

"I don't know what you consider 'together' for the purposes of your notes, but prior to our romantic involvement, Han and I shared a very deep friendship. It was, frankly, always going to become romantic at some point, but even when it wasn't, Han and I placed significant trust in each other, and had each other's backs in some very dire circumstances."

Her face flushed a little at how intimate she considered that assessment to be - but it was an honest one.

Iretta made a note, but sat back, apparently true to her word about this not being a regimented sort of process. She crossed one leg, touched her knee, and looked impressed.

"Almost two years, really?" she asked. "That long, and yet the galaxy does like to act like it's breaking news."

"Yes, well," Leia said crisply, cocking a brow, "the galaxy used to have far more pressing things to worry about. I suppose peace is tedious."

Iretta laughed.

"Forgive me, I don't mean to sound like a gossip. It may seem crass, but I do ask from a - how to describe it? A stability standpoint?"

Leia nodded - there was the buzzword.

"Here's the thing," she went on, explaining more. "Frequently, more frequently, actually, we deal with children of single mothers who rotate male partners through the house rather rapidly," Iretta explained delicately. She hesitated. "I don't say that to imply it's wrong for a woman to enjoy suitors, but statistically, children - boys and girls - who are in homes where strange men are constantly around experience higher rates of physical and sexual abuse. We have to scrutinize that a bit, for safety's sake - but I take that risk into account no matter who I'm evaluating, to avoid evaluating women unfairly, and also to avoid assuming that all women are automatically safe to be around children."

Leia gave another nod.

"Vada being in a home in which there's a single parent or, on the other hand, a parent in any kind of committed relationship, allows her to have a place where she can always have attention and focus on her, as well, because the parent isn't constantly distracted by affairs or new interests - if that makes sense. I would probably focus closer scrutiny on Han's romantic relationship if he was going through partners frivolously like that," she said, giving a sharp snap! to aid her point. "Statistically - I'll use that word again - women may not be as much of a physical threat, but again, for a boy or a girl, seeing their father engage constantly in meaningless entanglements doesn't necessarily create a positive environment."

Iretta leaned forward and picked up her teacup.

"Though everything," she stressed, "is subjective, and case-by-case, in this job."

"I can assure you Han is not 'going through' women," Leia quoted, a bit amused. "I think it's important to him Vada is in a good environment," she offered. "He was in a home for a long time as a child, and that," she paused, "affected him," she said delicately. Han could speak for himself if he wanted to elaborate any further. Perhaps he already had. "I won't argue with you about statistics, and the...baffling propensity some men have for inflicting physical harm," she added, her voice growing a little hard, "but Han would never hurt her. Physically, he'd never touch her with any sort of violence, and if he ever hurt her verbally, it would be unintentional, and it would devastate him."

She smiled ruefully.

"Believe me. I've seen him in moments when he accidentally hurt my feelings," she added openly.

Iretta smiled gently.

"Tell me more about what you think, what you see," she encouraged. "How do you think Vada's doing? Han?"

Leia pursed her lips, taking her time. She leaned back in her chair, her arms resting idly on the sides, palms turned up. She studied Iretta, her expression calm, reading the other woman. She was honest, curious, and very intelligent. Leia sighed.

"Vada seems to be settling in well, at home and at school," she murmured. "I do not have extensive experience with children, much less displaced children, but she does seem less traumatized than I would expect, after all she's had to cope with. She's talkative, earnest," Leia listed. She paused. "I think she's obsessively concerned with being perfect, out of fear if she makes one mistake Han would kick her out, but with time I think we," she stumbled only lightly when she said we, wondering if it was presumptuous, but went on boldly, "can assure her that mistakes and missteps won't earn her a place back in an orphanage."

Leia swallowed, and then tilted her head, her expression darkening.

"At least, that is what I was hoping - and what Han was hoping, I'm sure, before her 'family,'" Leia uttered the words as it were laughable, "hadn't decided they'd suddenly like to acknowledge her existence."

Leia grit her teeth.

"I think knowledge of that has added considerable stress to Vada's attempts to get comfortable here," she said. "She's very afraid to get attached, but she's also a child, and Han treats her well, and she likes him - so it's hard for her not to get attached. It's a lot to put on a little girl, and it isn't fair for her."

"No, it isn't," Iretta agreed in a murmur. "And you? Do you think you and Vada get along?"

Leia thought of the inadvertent fear she'd caused Vada recently, and felt a pang of disgust at herself. She wondered what Vada had said, if she had been asked this same sort of question. She did not let her moment of doubt show, though - overall, she felt her relationship with Vada was good, new as it was, so she simply answered:

"Yes."

Iretta sat forward and placed her teacup aside.

"No worries, I won't dig into you," she said. "Your thoughts and feelings and conflicts about all this - which I'm sure are many, it can't be easy to discover the person you're with has a child - that isn't really any of my business, nor is it in my purview. Your psych eval may cover some of it," she warned kindly, "if only to rule out any animosity."

"I don't have any animosity towards Vada," Leia said, firmly and confidently. "A situation like this would be difficult in any circumstance, but it's hardly dishonest of me to say Vada makes it easier. She's guileless, and she just wants a home."

Iretta beamed at her.

"What is home like for her?" she asked brightly. "Her room, her clothes, her day - what's she like around you?"

Leia sat forward a little tensely, but then all at once, she relaxed. Iretta's tone was so airy and unassuming, and it was as if a part of Leia abruptly realized that she was not the enemy; far from it. Unlike the other two social workers, this woman seemed to be in it as a calling; she seemed to truly care what happened to Vada and for what it was worth - Leia truly cared about that, too, even if there were still things to work out in the long run. Leia sat back, her shoulders falling easily, and lifted her chin, smiling, as the picture Vada had drawn of her breathing fire leaped to the forefront of her mind.

She pictured Vada's long, thick curly hair, her earnest face, and those eyes she had - eyes that were replicas of Hans, staring out of a cautious, but effervescent little face. She was an entirely unanticipated part of life, but as she began to talk more warmly with Iretta, Leia realized she missed her quite a bit - she realized Vada was easy to talk about; Vada herself, just she, as an individual, was uncomplicated - it was the adults who made the situation complicated. There, Leia made a promise to herself to untangle things with Han - so they could both strive to be the most uncomplicated adults in Vada's life.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

"Hoth-Level Bantha Shit"

As a general rule, Han didn't often spend time lounging about Leia's office. Even now, he wasn't lounging about in blissful leisure, but with Vada currently safely tucked away at her Academy during the day, Han found himself spending time with her there. He was still on administrative leave from his military duties, which hadn't been very numerous in the peacetime lull anyway. When he wasn't occupied with something else - like an interview, or a meeting with a lawyer, or fixing the Falcon, or something - he felt like it was just the right place for him to be.

He didn't infringe on her work or anything - and he noticed she hadn't been kidding when she said she was scaling things back; her days were much less frenzied than he'd seen before - but dropping by her office to simply be there for the free moments she had was a good way to recoup some of the alone time they'd been deprived of. At least, it was partially. Private as her office was, neither of them trusted it to the extent they'd trusted their home - if only because no matter what, it was a work environment, and even with no one barging in, calls could come, alarms could sound - all that. Her office sure as hell wasn't a honeymoon suite, but he could be alone with her in it at intervals - which was more than he could say for anywhere else, at the moment, as she was still staying at Luke's, and when she was over at their apartment, Vada was, of course, there.

He was doing his best to try and balance solidifying his bond with Vada, since that was Leia was giving him space to do, and maintaining the bond he had with Leia. He knew she was amenable to both, he just couldn't shake the feeling that she was holding a lot back for his sake, and recently he had gone from being wary that she might be feeling something that would make him uncomfortable, to just being desperate for her to share. In so many ways, he felt their intimacy was fracturing, and he wanted, needed, it back -

"Have you ever considered," Leia asked blithely from behind her console. She lifted her head a little, peering at him around the machine, "taking your boots off before you lay on my sofa?"

Han, who had been stretched out on her office sofa, hands behind his head, feet crossed at the ankle and propped up on the armrest, lifted his head a little and eyed the scuffed old shows fondly.

"Well, yeah," he drawled slowly. "But, y'know, also thought it might look indecorous if someone came in here and I didn't have my shoes on."

"Indecorous?" Leia quoted, amused.

"Yeah, 'cause if I didn't have my boots on, might look like I got dressed in a hurry, y'know," he said, with a wink.

"Hmm," Leia hummed. "And laying on the sofa so casually isn't indecorous?"

"Not unless you come lay on top of me."

She gave a small laugh at that, and Han lowered his head back, grinning. He'd discovered that a useful way of keeping things as close and normal as he could - as he felt like he could - right now as to continue flirting with her as he always had. And that was something he'd never stopped doing, even after they'd gotten together.

"Little dirt won't hurt ya," Han teased.

Leia tapped some things out on her console and then, to his surprise, she killed the monitor and got up, pushing in her chair and coming over to the sofa. She tapped his boots – and for a moment he thought she was more serious about the dirt than he thought – but she only wanted him to make room for her.

He swung his legs down quickly and sat up. Leia sat down next to him, very close to him, and swung her own legs up on the kaf table. She sighed and let her head fall onto his shoulder, closing her eyes lightly. Surprised, but not at all put out, Han slid an arm around her shoulder and gave her a lingering kiss on the temple.

"Everything all right, Sweetheart?" he asked quietly.

"Mmhmm," she murmured.

She lifted one leg and nudged it between his, resting her foot on his.

"Very little work to do right now," she said quietly. "The afternoon is at a lull, there's no one around," she trailed off. "S'nice to just sit here with you."

There hadn't been much of that lately – not much of this simple closeness. Han swallowed hard, nodding. He missed it, too. It was easy to understand why all of their sexual activity had come to a screeching halt – at least, it was easy on a shallow level; neither of them really knew how to navigate that with a kid in the house, and then Leia had left to stay with Luke –

But the gentler, less explicit intimacy had evaded them as well, lately. And Han wasn't sure why. At least, he wasn't sure how to articulate it, because he, too, was hesitant to show too much affection around Vada. He just didn't understand –

"Why's it feel like we can't do this 'cause she's around? When she's around?" he asked abruptly.

Leia lifted her shoulders, remaining silent for a little while. He figured she was thinking, so he didn't push it.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But it does feel off limits, doesn't it?"

He grunted in agreement, and nodded.

"Well," Leia mused. "My parents were never that physically affectionate around me. Which to an extent was a product of their upbringing, you know," she said. "Very circumspect. For quite a while I thought their marriage was an arranged one that happened to be rather pleasant."

"What changed your mind?" Han asked.

Leia tilted her head back.

"Oh, I walked into their bedroom once – "

"No, you didn't," Han interrupted gleefully.

Leia laughed.

"No, not that," she placated, rolling her eyes. "Besides, walking in on them having sex wouldn't have indicated love, necessarily," she added dryly. "I walked in and saw my father chasing my mother around the room. She'd stolen a cloak of his she thought was particularly ugly and was wearing it wrong to mock him. He caught her and threw her on the bed and began tickling her…they were both roaring with laughter," she remembered softly. "I'd never seen two people look that happy," she explained.

She sighed, and licked her lips.

"That was there behind the scenes, though," she pointed out. "It was their private affection. Perhaps I internalized some of that."

She pursed her lips.

"Although, you are the one who seemed to think we ought to stop sleeping in the same bed," she reminded him, amused.

Han grimaced at himself.

"Well, to be fair, my brain wasn't really workin'," he muttered hastily, crinkling his nose. "I mean, sounds like she saw a lot goin' on with Visenya and some of her men."

Leia nodded.

"It might just be that it might seem as if she was…being excluded, if we were wrapped up in each other around her," she ventured. "Like she wasn't welcome. I don't consciously think that, that I know of."

Han didn't answer. He didn't think he thought that way, either, but it was nice to at least discuss why they seemed to be…missing something, lately.

"Don't think she'd mind," Han said gruffly. "Vada. I don't think she'd mind if she saw us," he gestured. "Dunno. Like this. Nothin' immoral."

"No," Leia agreed with a smile, letting her head fall back lazily. "Nothing immoral at all," she murmured.

Han squeezed her shoulder, and turned his head to kiss her jaw lightly. She turned towards him a little, saying nothing, but his brow furrowed. He felt like something might be wrong, but he didn't know what it could be. They hadn't argued all week, and there was nothing he knew of that could be stressing her. He rested his chin on her head, thinking.

"Has Vada had her play date with Dita yet?" Leia asked.

Han grunted.

"Nah, s'comin' up soon," he said. "The other friend, uh – Pru – she's havin' a Life Day party next month, sleepover or somethin'," he said. "So since Dita's mom asked to meet me, I asked to meet Pru's mom before I said she could go," he trailed off for a moment, his tone going bitter: "but I don't wanna get her hopes up, 'cause what if in a month they've sent 'er back to the Vardaloses?"

Leia ran her hand up and down his thigh firmly, making a quiet, derisive noise.

"Is the sleepover before or after the court date?" she asked, thinking of the impending session.

"After," Han muttered.

Leia sighed grimly. She didn't think there was anything wrong with Han meeting the other girl's mother and deciding Vada could go. Vada would know it wasn't his fault if things didn't work out – but it was another indicator of all the uncertainty, and Leia felt a flicker of anger at Vaella Vardalos.

She grit her teeth.

"I'm glad she's being invited to that sort of thing," Leia said. "Included."

"Yeah," Han said huskily. "She loves that school, Leia," he said, whistling. "That's a good place you got her in."

"That will work in your favor in the courts," Leia murmured. "You know, if we had waited a long time to get her enrolled somewhere, she'd have less roots here, so to speak. You can more readily argue that she's already settling in, and to shake her whole world up again," Leia trailed off. "I don't think you need me to give you strategy," she decided confidently.

Han lifted his head a little, giving a sharp nod.

"I tell you I got a lawyer?" he asked.

She turned her head, leaning back to look at him. Her brows rose slightly.

"You did?" she asked. She'd expected him to ask her to vet one – she didn't mind that he hadn't; in fact, it made her feel pretty triumphant on his part. She did feel a flicker of annoyance at herself for sounding so skeptically surprised.

Han nodded smugly.

"Yeah, you gave me the idea, sorta. Somethin' you said. When Vada was tellin' us about Dita's mother, the actress, her big divorce," he explained, "you said she had a nasty custody battle. She got Dita, though, didn't she?" he pointed out rhetorically. "So the other day, when I met Freya – that's Dita's mom – I just asked her for the being's contact information."

Leia nodded, a proud smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"That was smart, Han."

He gave a nod of agreement.

"Lawyer's name is Payj Bulsara. I was thinkin' I'd ask you to vet her, too – "

"Ah, probably not necessary," Leia said, recognizing the surname. "Chandrilan, right?"

"You know her?"

"I don't know Payj," she said. "But I would hazard a guess that she's one of Pernilla Bulsara's daughters, or a daughter-in-law. The Bulsaras are legal royaly in Hanna City. Pernilla Bulsara never brings anyone into her private practice unless they commit to ten years of public service and pro bono work, even if they are her family. The whole firm is full of extreme humanitarians and a lot of their branches were obliterated under Imperial rule. The family went into hiding towards the end of the war. You can trust them."

Leia paused.

"I can almost guarantee you a Bulsara lawyer will care more about Vada than anyone else. They are fairly famous for emancipating abused children in the core worlds."

Han seemed wary.

"I don't want Vada emancipated."

"No one would emancipate a seven year old, Han," Leia snorted. "What I mean is that Payj Bulsara will likely draw blood attempting to make sure you keep Vada if she feels that's what's best for Vada."

"Good," Han said firmly, relief washing over him. He'd draw blood, too – and Leia's endorsement only bolstered what Freya Taxo had already told him; Payj Bulsara was a ruthless but kind custody lawyer who had thwarted every attempt of Dita's father to wrench custody out of her mother's hands.

"I don't even think you'll need a lawyer that good," Leia added, "but I think it's damn important you got one. It shows you're serious."

"I am serious," Han said aggressively.

She squeezed his knee.

"I know," she soothed softly. "I know, Han."

She pursed her lips.

"I had the idea that it might be a good idea for you to have someone to red team you," she said slowly, testing the waters.

Han grunted.

"Red team me?" he asked. "What, like Carlist does 'fore we run an operation?"

Leia nodded.

"It's not uncommon for criminal trials," she said. "Which this is not, but if you have someone come at you from every aggressive, offensive angle prior to family court, there's less of a chance you lose your cool or get tongue-tied."

"Me? Tongue-tied?" Han drawled charmingly.

Leia rolled her eyes. Han rolled his head back and forth, thinking about it.

"You got an idea of who you want to do it, don't you?" he asked warily. "You?"

Leia paused carefully.

"I think it would be most useful to you if I asked Mon Mothma to do it," she said.

Han gave a skeptical groan.

"She ain't my biggest fan, Leia," he muttered.

"That's precisely the point. And," Leia added, lifting a finger. "That's not exactly true. Mon has always respected you, and continues to respect you, and the things you have done. She can be cold and shortsighted about our relationship, but she doesn't dislike you, and she'd be keen and fair without holding back. She doesn't care if she offends you."

"I've noticed," Han muttered.

Leia laughed a little.

"Think about it," she suggested. "Run it by Payj Bulsara. She's likely to agree. She'll do a version of it anyway, any good lawyer will."

Han turned and gave her a skeptical look.

"You know Mon'd jump at that chance to cross-examine me to try and…I dunno, turn you off to me, or judge me even harsher."

"Yes, I think she would look at it as a chance to vet you for me," Leia agreed mildly, and Han gave her an incredulous look. "Fortunately, I know you, and I know she'd come out of that interaction on your side, so I say let her try to – how did you put it?"

Leia arched a brow.

"'Turn me off to you,'" she quoted, amused. "I hope Mon doesn't have any secret way to turn me off," she said. She snorted. "Or on, for that matter."

Han laughed a little. He ran his hand up and down her shoulder, shaking his head.

"Might be a good idea," he agreed. "Yeah. I'll think about it," he said.

He shifted, nudging her foot with one of his ankles thoughtfully.

"You ain't heard from Vaella, have you?" he asked darkly. "Her people?"

"Not since receiving that initial summons," Leia said crisply. "I would guess the woman does not want any of this played out in the press, considering it would not be hard for the general Media to find out why Vada wasn't with them in the first place," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "She can redact the files all she wants; any savvy Corellian will assume the timeline of events correctly."

Leia hesitated.

"Which is why, though I would never usually suggest you, ahhh, purposely attract the press," she paused, "letting yourself be seen with Vada out and about, more often might…benefit you."

Han shot her another incredulous look, and Leia shrugged coolly.

"The Media is much more interested in Han Solo's illegitimate child living with me than it is interested in her living thousands of miles away with rich ship builders," she pointed out. "You're also fairly well loved by much of the populace, and even though family court does not involve a jury, well…even the impartial can never hope to be purely impartial," she hinted.

Get the public on your side, Han she seemed to imply.

"People think it's cute," Leia said unexpectedly.

"What's cute?"

"You and Vada," Leia elaborated. "My public affairs people send me clippings. People think it's cute," she repeated. "Primarily women," she added dryly.

"Really?" Han snorted.

Leia elbowed him.

"I don't care about the women!" he protested, grinning.

Leia let her head fall forward, laughing quietly. She knew he didn't care about them.

"How come it's cute?" Han asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Leia sighed. "I suppose because for some reason, when a man takes care of a child its seen as some divine act of selflessness but when a woman does it's just an invitation for critique on how she's doing it."

"Huh," Han grunted, arching a brow.

Leia hesitated.

"I think…perhaps, I," she paused, trailing off. He turned to look at her.

"What?" he asked.

She hesitated again, and then sighed, tilting her head back and staring at the ceiling.

"I know that's the case. I hesitate to interfere in any way with Vada because…it could be used against you. You're letting your girlfriend raise your child, she's doing it wrong, and so on," Leia waved her hand. "Silly. But possible."

Han tightened his jaw, his teeth grinding together.

"But you're, you're not…goin' anywhere," he said, half fierce, half anxious.

She shook her head.

"I'm not going anywhere," she agreed softly.

She rested her head on him again, and Han slouched down, tightening his grip on her so that it was more of a half-hug. He let his head fall back, too, and started to close his eyes – and then it occurred to him, why she might be on edge, why he was sensing something – up with her.

He sat up abruptly.

"Your psych evaluation is this week," he said, louder than he meant to.

Leia shifted a little and rolled her head towards him, looking at him through her lashes. She gave a small, vague nod.

"Yes," she said guardedly, wondering why he had so suddenly brought it up.

"I forgot," he blurted. "I wasn't thinkin' – you okay?" he asked rapidly, sitting up and turning towards her. "You ready for that?"

Leia shrugged.

"Carlist found me a private therapist," she said neutrally. "A woman."

"Alderaanian?" Han asked.

Leia gave a short, sarcastic laugh.

"Even Alderaanian therapists aren't in a mental position to counsel others," she pointed out. "Thanks to the Empire." Leia was quite for a moment. "She's Hosnian. I didn't ask much about his sources in finding her. I trust Carlist."

Han nodded.

"Leia," he started.

She waved her hand.

"Don't apologize, Han," she muttered. "Just – don't," she said tiredly. "I don't really want to hear it. I agreed to this."

He shut his mouth. He still felt responsible.

"I apologize in advance if I'm declared insane and that causes problems for you."

In spite of himself, Han laughed curtly.

"Leia, you're not insane," he said, skeptical. "C'mon."

"When did you get a psychology degree?" Leia retorted.

"You're not insane!" he said again, louder. "I mean, hell, you did get kinda weirdly excited about buyin' those icebox magnets, but that's not insane, technically," he broke off when she elbowed him, and he noticed a smile creeping wryly back across her face.

She bit her lip.

"Don't you have one soon, as well?" she asked hoarsely. "Doesn't Vada?"

Han eyed her carefully, and then shrugged.

"Vada, nah," he said. "She's had a baseline one, one they did right when they removed her from the home," he said. "Apparently, next one she gets is right before the final decision on leavin' her with me is made," he explained, "because it's about seein' if she's gotten worse, or better, or whatever," he said grimly, "since leavin' the home, I mean."

Leia nodded.

"Mine's sometime," he muttered. "Think it's the same week as my second interview," he said, and rubbed his head. "Bound to be another home visit soon, too," he added under his breath.

"That will go fine," Leia said firmly. "There's nothing wrong with that apartment, and you and Vada are doing fine."

Han nodded slowly.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I did her hair pretty good the other day," he added after a moment.

Leia smiled to herself. She turned her head and kissed his shoulder. She'd spent a good deal of time showing him some simple braids the other day when she was at their apartment. It was heartwarming to know he was serious about sticking with it, though she hadn't doubted that he was.

"How's her knee?" Leia asked.

"Can't even tell she busted it anymore," Han said proudly.

"She's tough," Leia said.

Han looked over at her.

"So're you," he said firmly.

She smiled at him wryly. Han turned, shifting towards her more, and reached over to touch her jaw gently. He turned her face towards him, studying her intently, searching her eyes to try and convince himself she was really okay, that she was going to be okay in spite of this demanding thing she had to undergo as a result of his past mistakes.

"You let me know if you need me, you got that, Your Worship?" he said intensely.

She smiled at him thinly, her eyes shimmering, and gave a little shrug, nodding. He sensed immediately she'd already resolved to blow him off, probably out of concern for his peace of mind, or something like that – and he wrapped both arms around her in a hug, hoping that might convince her he meant it; because he'd realized that being able to handle all of this, Vada, and his relationship with Leia, wasn't a matter of chance, it was a matter of deciding to.

By Coruscant standards, it was a magnificently beautiful day. The air wasn't as full of thick, billowy smog as it usually was, and the planet's sun was doing a fine job of poking through the usual potent clouds and shining down to the surface. Particularly, many of those rays were reaching the private, secure little courtyard of Aurenia Academy, where Vada was enjoying an outdoor recess with the small group of friends she had made.

Delighting in the weather, she was also once again marveling at the fact that all the children at her level were playing nicely in various groups in the courtyard. The whole area was filled with laughter and shrieking – nice shrieking, not the kind she'd always heard in the home, which meant some big kid was bullying someone, or something was being stolen.

It still amazed her that there were places that the children all played well together and were, for the most part, kind. Sure, there was teasing and sometimes some petty squabbling, but it wasn't like the home – wasn't like the home at all. She thought of the one friend, the one she'd had in the home, who made her the frayed bracelet she still wore on her ankle, and hoped she was okay. But even that girl had been mean and nasty sometimes.

She wondered if her classmates were better people by luck, or because of their backgrounds, or if maybe they all just had better supervision. Whatever it was, it made her happy, especially since she had friends here to laugh and shriek with, too –

"Vada!"

She turned her head just in time to see a rather large, round object looming towards her face. She gave one of those nice shrieks and ducked, so the ball zoomed off happily towards Pru. Pru jumped for it, managed to get one hand on a pressure point on the ball, but wasn't able to grab it in. It vibrated smugly, and zoomed off towards someone else on its elliptical path.

"Sorry!" Vada cringed, her eyes darting to catch Dita's eye – Dita was on her team for the game. "I was thinking!"

Dita giggled shrilly.

"You're always thinking," she snorted, watching Kitto take a dive for the ball.

Kitto stuck his tongue between his teeth comically, failed to grab with two hands, and toppled over as the ball shimmied out of his grip. He'd lost his balance trying to wrestle with it.

The four of them were playing a game of smart tether. Vada had no idea why it was called that, and she couldn't see any sort of tether attached to the ball that hovered around a standing poll, but it was a game they'd introduced her to that she really loved. The ball, hovering around a poll, had pressure points placed all on it. If a player managed to get two palms on a pressure point, they could control the direction of the ball. If the next person to touch two palms on the pressure points was their teammate, they won the game.

However, the control only lasted for one minute, and the hovering ball had no real allegiance, other than its desire to avoid being captured. It did all kinds of tricks to throw players off, zigging, zagging, dipping, tripping them, and jolting them with little sparks, even. Today, they had been playing for half an hour, and no one had won a game yet.

Vada had one her first game last week, when she was playing as Kitto's partner. They all agreed Kitto was the best at the game. Vada was the scrappiest, but she got – as Dita said – lost in her thoughts a lot.

"So, anyway," Kitto was saying, dusting himself off as he scrambled back it. "Someone was trying to kidnap me again, they were just so bad at it," he snorted, his tone very unconcerned – Kitto always had at least three new stories about being almost kidnapped.

His father was extremely rich.

"It was a weird looking guy with only half his nose who asked me if I wanted to come hang out with his rare Corellian slice hound, like I've never seen one," Kitto explained, snorting. "I had two razor hound puppies when I was little. Only when I was big enough to be bigger than them, though," he said hastily.

"Why did that matter?" Dita asked.

"Oh, they attack things smaller than them," Vada said seriously. "Unless they are super well-trained. But it is really not a good idea to have them as pets," she snorted.

"My mother says having exotic, mean pets is a stupid thing only rich people do," Pru said brightly. She tucked the ball as it flew at her, and then she popped her head up, straightening, and looking regretful. "Oh, Kitto, I did not mean that to sound," she frowned, trailing off.

"Don't worry," Kitto said seriously, biting his tongue again as he eyed the ball. "My stepmother is very stupid," he said serenely. "The hounds are hers. My father tells her she's too silly for her own good all the time. They don't like each other, them," he said, matter-of-fact.

"Then why are they stayed married?" Dita asked, snorting. She was eyeing the ball, too, as right now it was hovering temptingly just out of everyone's reach. "When my parents stopped liking each other, they got a divorce."

Kitto snorted.

"Yeah, that went well," he teased. He shrugged. "Father married her after my mother died, when I was a baby," he said solemnly, "she was my wet nurse, because she had a baby who died, but then when he married her, I got new wet nurses…and Father was so distraught after my mom died, someone told me, that he didn't get any papers written about money and stuff."

Kitto leapt for the ball, almost managed to get a hand on each pressure point, but lost it at the last minute. The ball gave a squeaking noise that made them all wince, and then it tumbled over to Vada, circling her head lazily.

"So that's how come he can't divorce her," Kitto said, arching his brows. "He says it's cheaper to keep her."

Pru made a face.

"Well, that's gross and not romantic," she said scornfully.

"Romance is for poor people," Kitto said.

Pru glared at him, and folded her arms.

"I'm glad my family is poor, then," she snapped. "My parents love each other."

Kitto just shrugged again, unconcerned.

"She and Father may not like each other, but she's nice to me," he said. "So that's nice."

Pru still gave him a brooding look, and Vada sympathized with her. Pru was a scholarship student, and Vada could obviously relate to her background – though Vada didn't know what to consider herself these days. She was poor. She personally didn't have any money. But even without counting Leia's wealth, Vada was pretty sure Han wasn't poor, even if he used to be.

"Dita, duck!" cried Pru suddenly, as the ball zoomed towards her. Dita half ducked, half jumped to try and control it, bopped her nose, sneezed, and started laughing.

Kitto snorted, too, and when the ball came around to him again, and smacked one hand expertly on a pressure point, and began wrestling it heartily.

"Does your Dad's girlfriend like you, Vada?" he asked, a little out of breath. "She's Princess Leia, right?"

Dita laughed.

"Boys," she said, in disbelief. "How do you not know that?" she demanded. "Everyone knows that."

"I don't pay attention – oof," Kitto just missed capturing the ball.

It spun towards Vada, who shrugged, concentrating mostly on the game at hand.

"She likes me," she said. "She does my hair and all that," she explained.

She almost managed to get both hands on a pressure point, but the ball chose to rocket towards the ground, and Vada squealed, not wanting to be toppled over. She let go, laughing, and it darted off at Pru's feet. Pru began skipping to get away from it, and it flew up, taking a break above their heads.

"That's nice," Dita said. "Mama told me hair is a big deal for people on Alderaan," she added, proud to show off her knowledge. "And, also, it's nice she likes you, because my daddy's new girlfriend told me to my face she hates kids," Dita added dryly. "And she smokes too much."

Vada gave Dita an amused look, but tucked that piece of information away. She kind of projected her situation onto Dita, sometimes, when she wanted to feel optimistic. Dita had also had people fight over where she was going to live, and she'd told Vada she had wanted to stay with her mom, but no one had asked her what she wanted. Vada had the same thing going on, except she knew she was allowed to privately tell the judge what she wanted, and he might listen, even though she couldn't outright choose.

One time, Dita had said it was harder for dads to get all the custody, but Vada was pretty sure that was a planet-by-planet thing. Corellians didn't care about that stuff, not really. Honor wasn't really about if you were a boy or a girl.

Vada was trying not to worry about custody and the court stuff, and she was doing a good job of it – but she also went through bursts where she did lots of research. She didn't want to be totally unawares, either. She wanted the people who talked to her about it to think she was smart and very well put together, so when she told them she had to stay with Han, they listened.

"Did your dad say if you could come to my Life Day party yet?" Pru asked, perking up. "It will be lots of fun, even if our place is small," she shot a moody look at Kitto, and Kitto, busy strategizing, blithely didn't notice. "Dita always comes, and so do Nuni and Kaori," she named two more of their classmates, "and my neighbor, Yrma, she goes to a public school."

Vada leapt back as the ball came towards her again, escaping Kitto. She hesitated.

"He says he does not know yet," she said carefully, trying not to sound dejected. "But I do not think it is because of you, it is other stuff," she added sighing. "Because maybe he will not have me then," she said grumpily.

"Oh," Pru said sympathetically. "Well, if it makes you feel better, my mother said he commed and wanted to meet her first," she said, starting to grin, "and she got all giggly because Han Solo wanted to talk to her and my dad got jealous and said 'Get ahold of yourself, Griista, he's not that good-looking.'"

Dita started laughing, but Vada just rolled her eyes and made a face.

"People will talk about him all the time, Vada," Dita snorted. "He's as famous as Princess Leia and my parents, too, but he's nicer, and famous for better reasons," she said.

"I know!" Vada insisted. "He helped blow up a Death Star," she informed them – as if they needed reminding. "But he is also just my dad," she said, as that really was what he was coming to be, more and more so every day. She tilted her head thoughtfully. "He blew up a toaster the other day," she said."

"How?" Kitto asked, immediately interested – he very much liked mechanical things.

"It broke and he was trying to fix it himself," Vada said, giggling. "It caught on fire and spun around like crazy and he started laughing, but then he remembered I was there and he pretended he did not think it was funny and put the fire out."

"Oh, yeah," Pru said. "One time my dad flooded the kitchen trying to fix the plumbing, and he and my brother had a water fight in it until my mom caught them and lost her mind. So I think you have a pretty normal thing," Pru assessed confidently.

Vada beamed. The idea of normal was very comforting. As she did, Dita finally achieved a victory – she unexpectedly slapped two palms on pressure points and caught the hover ball. It glowed sadly for a moment, then lingered in Dita's hands, and she shoved it towards Vada.

"One minute!" she howled excitedly. "Grab, it and we – "

"Vada?"

Madam Losha's voice cut in clearly and kindly, and their instructor came up across the courtyard.

"Madam Losha!" gasped Dita. "Don't distract her, we're – "

"DISTRACT HER, MADAM LOSHA!" cried Pru competitively.

Vada giggled, wrestling with the ball, but breathlessly trying to be polite as well.

"Um, yes Ma'am, I am – got it! Oh, no – " the ball escaped Vada's grip, and rolled towards Kitto, who only caught it with one hand, but was gladly keeping it away from Vada.

Time ran out, and with the possibility of winning slipping away, Vada straightened up, wiped her brow, and turned sheepishly towards the teacher. She smiled, ducking her head.

"I was not ignoring, I was just going to win!" she blurted.

Madam Losha, a very laid back, kind woman, merely smiled.

"Oh, Vada, it's no problem, I didn't mean to interrupt the fun," she said easily. "Would you mind coming with me?" she asked.

Vada hesitated, and turned to look at Kitto, Pru, and Dita. All of them looked interested, but shrugged. Vada looked around the rest of the playground – everyone was absorbed in their games, and nothing seemed amiss. Madam Losha didn't seem upset or agitated either, so Vada just nodded – not that she would have refused a teacher, anyway.

She stepped up and followed Madam Losha, waiting until the breached the threshold of the Academy to hesitantly ask –

"Am I in trouble?"

"Not at all," Madam Losha said.

Quickly, Vada followed that with:

"Is someone here to get me? Only Dad, Leia, Luke, and Chewbacca are allowed to, and in emergencies, Mr. Carlist Rieekan," she recited. "If anyone else tries – "

"Don't worry, Vada, nothing is wrong," Madam Losha soothed. "Princess Leia and your father have been very clear with us about your situation. We wouldn't release you to anyone they did not approve," she assured her.

Vada nodded.

"Oh. Okay. Good," she said quietly, her brow furrowing.

When Han had told her not to leave school with anyone who wasn't him, or the other people he made her memorize, she had asked why he was so concerned. He said it wasn't really likely that some of the Vardalos tried to take her, but just in case. Vada supposed things might be shaky because she wasn't technically all in Han's custody yet. He was a guardian, but until he was found fit, the government was responsible with her.

Vada had asked about this, worried he might get in trouble if someone from the social workers came to get her and she refused to go. Han just said "Well, Leia's the government," under his breath, as if that implied Leia made things so she was here for good – at least for now.

Vada tried not to ask too much, because some things she didn't want to know.

She was starting to understand the phrase 'ignorance is bliss' extremely well. She'd used to think it was nonsense. How could anyone who was ignorant be happy with it? Now she knew ignorant people were way, way happier. Pru was the smartest of their friend group, and she was furious all the time.

Madam Losha led her into the classroom.

"You can sit at your spot," she said, and then sat down in the seat next to Vada. "I'm sorry to drag you away from play early, but since the session is almost over, I hoped you'd understand that I'd rather cut into your play time a small bit than your learning time – though both are important."

Vada shrugged. She cocked her head curiously at the teacher.

"I am not in trouble?" she said, making sure.

Madam Losha grinned.

"No," she assured her firmly. "I know you have a lot of stuff going on, and probably a lot of people asking you questions," she said, "but I wanted to check in and see how you're doing with your learning, and how you're settling in with your classmates," she said warmly.

Madam Losha leaned forward casually, resting her chin on her palm. She watched Vada, and Vada assessed her sincerity carefully – which didn't take long. Most all of the instructors here were very attentive and genuinely cared about the students. Even the library matron, who was very old and suspicious and assumed everyone was up to no good. She was still fair about it.

"You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to," she said, "and I'm not asking about your home, or any of that tough stuff you have to deal with, though if you want to talk to me about it, I would happily listen," she explained. "I'm more concerned about school. You know, your extra lessons, your classes, friends," she listed. "I think we have a really good community at Aurenia and I want to make sure you feel you are fitting in. And if not, I'd like to help any way I can. Learning can be really hard, and even harder if you don't feel safe or happy."

Vada stared at her, taken aback. She knew Madam Losha was nice – but she hadn't expected her to be so concerned. It was kind of alarming, but only because the instructors that came at random times at the home hadn't given a damn about learning at all, much less if the children were happy learning. They had just gone through the motions and then left, sometimes smelling strongly of alcohol.

"Oh, well," Vada said slowly. "Well," she said again. "I do not mind talking. I am kind of used to it, now," she explained. "Everyone wants to talk to me, I am just not sure they will listen to what I want them to hear."

Madam Losha nodded, looking interested in a sincere enough way.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I keep telling people I want to stay with my dad, and I do not want to go with these other nasty people who want me," Vada said, giving a hard shrug. "But they all say it does not matter, because the courts will say."

She made a face.

"Do you think people are listening to you in other ways?" Madam Losha asked. "Like us, here at the school," she said. "Do you feel like we're listening and helping you?"

"Oh, yeah," Vada said easily. "I like it here. I went to school a little bit on Corellia, and Mommy taught me to read before that, but this school is very nice. I never knew there were places I could learn a lot but also focus on art."

Madam Losha smiled, and Vada went on after a moment:

"Also, my Dad listens to me," she said, "and Leia. I do not mean for it to sound like they ignore me. I just think other people who are in charge think what I say does not matter, because," she shrugged. "I am little."

"That can be hard to deal with," Madam Losha said carefully. "I know. You have to try to think that they might have your best interests at heart, and will do the right thing. Things are very different from adult's perspective. Not necessarily more important, but different."

Vada could tell Madam Losha was cautiously avoiding making promises or villainizing anyone, and that was nice. That was okay – she was a teacher. She wasn't supposed to be too nosy.

"I'm very happy to hear that you are enjoying school," Madam Losha said. "Again, I just wanted to speak with you a little and make sure you felt safe here and see how you were settling in, and see if there's anything else you need," she spread her hands out, "an extra help, or any questions – you can come to me, or any other instructor."

Vada thought about it again.

"I do feel safe here," she said. "I like my friends a lot. Dita is going to come over and see the Falcon!" she added, beaming with excitement. "That is my dad's ship," she said solemnly. "You maybe have heard of it."

"I think I have," Madam Losha agreed with a wink.

"Well," Vada said smugly, "he added nice new leather and special crash webbing, just for me," she boasted. "Because he is serious."

Musical notes chimed throughout the school, signaling the end of a block of instruction – for Vada's age group, the end of their play time – and the beginning of the last learning period of the day. Vada and her peers were taking on history next. It was Near-Ancient history, though, which was kind of boring, and not very interesting to Vada.

She was usually more interested in hearing about what was happening now. Or what had happened right before she was born, all that stuff.

Madam Losha looked askance, and got up, perhaps so that Vada would not look too much like a teacher's pet when kids began to stream into the room. She folded her arms, and nodded at Vada warmly. Vada smiled back at her, heartened that she seemed to be so concerned.

It wasn't long before Dita burst into the classroom, Pru and Kitto trailing her – both of them arguing about something.

"Why are they fighting?" Vada asked, eyeing them as Dita bounced over to her.

"Kitto said something dumb about being rich again," Dita said brightly. "I don't know why he can't just keep it to himself," she added, eyes wide. "My mother always says talking about your money is vulgar."

Vada chewed her lip. She wasn't familiar with the word.

"What is 'vulgar'?" she asked.

Dita concentrated very hard. Then she frowned.

"Um, I don't know the Corellian word, so…I don't know, it means like, like," she snapped her fingers, and flapped her hand.

"It is okay – "

"No, no, I know!" Dita insisted. Still, after a moment, she frowned again. "Well, maybe it is a word that you can't say what it means without saying other hard words," she said, consternated.

Vada snorted.

"I will ask Leia," she said. "She will know."

Madam Losha gave a soft clap of her hands, directing children to their seats, and Vada quieted, turning to face the front of the classroom. She could easily see the board, and Madam Losha seemed to speak right to her as she began to teach – noticing her, making her feel very present, and attended to.

This whole experience – this school, her friends - was just another thing she dreaded losing if things didn't go well with the courts, or if something dreadful happened between Han and Leia.

She concentrated hard on the lecture at hand, pushing the negative thoughts away. When she did that during the day, repressed how scared she was, she usually had trouble sleeping at night, and would have bad dreams, but that didn't matter so much, because her dad would let her read in his room until she went back to sleep, or let her watch a silly program on the Holo, even if he fell asleep on the sofa and started snoring a little while she was still up.

She always put herself back to bed quickly when he did that, because she was worried he'd think he was being a bad father if she stayed up really late and fell asleep in school – that would get him in trouble. But before she put herself back to bed, she always put a blanket over him, and patted his head, just so he'd maybe know she thought he was doing great.

Leia supposed she thought the whole thing would be more…cinematic. Or something. Or perhaps she wasn't sure what she had been imagining, or dreading, or building up in her mind. Regardless, when the time came for her psychological evaluation, it did not appear it was going to live up to the horror show she had expected.

The psychologist Rieekan had found her was a short, thin woman who was neat and focused without being cold or unkind. Her office was discreet, and her manner even more discreet, though she had firmly denied Leia the courtesy of holding the session in Leia's office.

Leia assumed the psychologist understood that Leia would attempt that tactic to leverage things towards her own comfort zone, and politely said it wasn't quite a fair evaluation if Leia was playing games to get some sort of subtle upper hand. Leia conceded to that with a small, thin smile of capitulation and, the day of, presented herself at Dorota Yyeva's office.

First and foremost, Leia filled out forms. Generic forms. She input data about herself, and then answered several mundane questionnaires that posed questions such as 'how often would you say you have a difficult time sleeping' and 'do you ever find yourself unable to enjoy your favorite pastimes, foods, or people?'

She felt the questions were at once all too shallow and straightforward, and yet somehow, a trap. She had to force herself to answer honestly, gritting her teeth, and reminding herself sharply that this was more about Vada and Han than it was about her, and it was paramount she just answer instead of trying to craft the narrative she thought they wanted to hear to pass.

That didn't seem to work anyway; she had done that once during the Rebellion and somehow immediately failed the routine psych exam. She had ignored requests to be seen again, and no one had the power – or the nerve – to suspend her. That was an abuse of status she ought to feel guilty about, but she couldn't force herself to feel it when she didn't.

The fact that telling them what they should want to hear had once failed her was also part of what made her feel like these sorts of things were traps. She resisted the idea of not being stable, likely because she feared it so much.

All her life – all her life – she had been of sound mind, emotionally healthy; she was vaguely unable to comprehend the idea of something being wrong with her mind. Yet even as she resisted the idea, shadows inside her hissed that she was not like she used to be, and she balked at finding out if this was some normal traumatic response, or the Dark Side closing in on her.

Answering question after question – and then viewing image after image, and offering what word it made her think of, or describing what she saw in a blurry ink blot – frustrated her to no end; how would this help? And while she did it, she wondered sharply if she confused her ability to shut down and function with a healthy coping mechanism for all that had happened to her.

She wondered, wondered, wondered what the therapist was going to make of her.

She sat stiffly on the edge of a chair of Yyeva's outer office, waiting. The therapist had asked her to remain here for a few moments while she gathered together everything – all the questionnaires and self-evaluations, and brain imagining, too, because they had done that as well – and brought Leia in for a 'conversation.'

Leia did not expect this conversation to be anything like the rather buoyant one she'd had with Iretta.

She pressed her fingertips hard into her temple, staring through the spaces between her fingers down at her knees. Her head ached a little, likely due to how hard she'd been clenching her jaw for the past few hours. The whole process of a baseline evaluation was a test of mental endurance itself.

"Leia?"

Leia looked up sharply at the sound of her name, her eyes narrowing, and then paused, wondering if such a jerky reaction would count against her, if it would make her seem…unstable. She bit the inside of her lip to hold back a rueful smile, and softened her expression, settling her eyes on Dr. Yyeva.

The woman smiled. She held up a neat data file, and beckoned. Leia got up, and followed her from the antechamber waiting room to the inner office. She'd had a short introductory interview in here this morning, and taken one of her evaluations here, so she was no stranger to it.

It was a sunny, cozy room, and without being bid, Leia took a seat in a plush armchair, lingering again on the edge.

"I know it seems impossible, but try to relax," Dr. Yyeva said, glancing at Leia's stiff demeanor.

Leia grit her teeth, considering it. Dr. Yyeva began arranging some things, picked up some notes, picked up a pair of glasses to perch on her nose, and generally made herself look busy. As she did, Leia made the conscious decision to let out a slow breath, roll out her shoulders, and pull her feet up into the sofa with her.

She kept her soft moccasin-style shoes on, but tucked them up under her neatly, her back still straight, but her composure at least somewhat more open to the environment. When Dr. Yyeva turned around, she beamed, nodded, and took her time collapsing on a sofa across from Leia, and giving her a good-natured sigh.

"This is all exhausting," she said firmly – not as if she were trying to empathize, but as if she truly understood, and apologized. "You know, it's troublesome enough to let someone analyze your mind, which is essentially your soul, your inner self," she said lightly, "but it's worse when it wasn't necessarily voluntary. I keep that in mind," she offered.

Leia considered her a moment, and then flicked her eyes down.

"Well, I consented to this," she said firmly.

"Yes," Dr. Yyeva agreed. "You agreed to it as part and parcel of a larger custody evaluation, which was outside your control," she said succinctly. "What I meant was, you aren't seeking psychological care of your own volition."

Leia cocked her head to the side a little, feeling herself bristle. She bit her tongue – why should such a comment offend her? It was true. She wasn't. She wouldn't be here at all if her cohabitation with Han hadn't made it a mandatory part of his suitability appraisal.

Unable to think of anything to say, Leia just shrugged a little, and nodded. Dr. Yyeva looked down at her holofile, and back up, inclining her head forward confidently.

"The rest of this session will simply be a discussion," she said gently. "I'll follow up on some of the answers you gave, we'll talk a little about how you feel," she gave a wry smile here, and Leia tried not to make a face, or narrow her eyes – Dr. Yyeva clearly expected it. "Then it will be over, and you're free to go home, or back to work, or to do whatever you wish to do."

Leia pursed her lips.

"A full psychological evaluation only takes one business day?" she asked.

Her tone was icier than she meant it to be, and she frowned at herself, biting her bottom lip.

"I – Dr. Yyeva, I apologize – "

"Accepted," Dr. Yyeva said, without waiting for more. She waved her hand kindly. "This sort of thing is difficult for everyone. Very few people are comfortable with it. I anticipate a certain amount of resistance, suspicion, even hostility, from my patients, and I don't think it's wrong to feel that."

She paused, and leaned back.

"Which of those three would you say you feel the most strongly, about this whole process? Only the psych evaluation," she clarified. "I am not asking about your feelings on Vada at this time."

Leia was silent, and Dr. Yyeva prompted:

"Or do you feel something other than resistance, suspicion, or hostility?"

Leia grit her teeth thoughtfully, staring at Dr. Yyeva.

"Hostility," she said finally, forcing the word out. She lifted her chin. "Though I don't think I am hostile towards you personally. You are just there," she added warily.

"I'm the embodiment of what you're facing," Dr. Yyeva said with a laugh. "Well, I'll tell you, not a lot of my patients are cognizant enough of themselves to realize when they're misdirecting their feelings."

She sat forward, and folded her hands in her lap.

"To answer your earlier question – what we're doing here is a very basic psychological evaluation," she said calmly. "That means – and forgive me if I sound patronizing – it's a one-fits-all template that is adjusted if we find any major glaring issues. That's why some of the questionnaires probably felt like they applied to you, and some seemed entirely irrelevant."

Dr. Yyeva flexed her fingers, and lifted them, using her hands more animatedly as she spoke.

"In my private practice, I specialize in certain illnesses – post traumatic stress recovery, generally – but I'm seeing you as a part of the social services guidelines and directives, not for any specific reasons, and not," she emphasized, "necessarily to diagnose you with anything."

Leia gave a small nod. If that sort of thing was her specialty, it explained why Carlist had referred her as trustworthy – though Leia was unsure if Carlist himself had used Dr. Yyeva, or if he had worked with her in conjunction with helping his soldiers, or Alderaanians within the diaspora.

"In short, you weren't referred here because of a psych hold or by a physical health doctor who worries for your safety – nothing like that," Dr. Yyeva said. "If you have any personal concerns about your mental health while you're here, we can certainly discuss them, and I would be happy to see you again if you're interested, but for the purposes of today, all we're doing is answering the question of whether or not you're psychologically sound enough to share responsibility of a young child."

Dr. Yyeva waved her hand again.

"Insofar as that you living in the same household assumes you'd take a certain amount of the responsibility in your hands, whether or not you are a custodial parent."

Leia nodded more firmly at that.

"I plan on that, yes," she said shortly. "Han's a very significant part of my life, so integrating Vada into it is a natural reaction."

Dr. Yyeva nodded.

"A 'natural reaction,'" she quoted with interest. "Was that your initial 'natural' reaction to all of this?" she asked. "Some women or men might feel alienated from their significant other in a situation like this, ah – betrayed, resentful," she listed. "What I mean to say is, you seem very accepting. Is that how you honestly feel at the core?"

Leia didn't say anything. She narrowed her eyes slightly.

Dr. Yyeva gave her a small, wry smile, and arched her brows.

"The things said between us are entirely confidential," she reassured her firmly. "Nothing you say to me will be documented in an official report. I will merely analyze everything we have been over, and provide an overall assessment of stability."

Leia turned her head and rubbed her temples a little stiffly. She understood that, she just wasn't sure she trusted it. She barely knew this woman, and despite the recommendation Carlist had given her, Dr. Yyeva was still a stranger. Still, Leia understood this was important, and she took a deep breath.

She shoved her tongue against her front teeth for a moment, steeling herself, and looked over at the therapist.

"I was not thrilled to find out Han had a kid," she said flatly – honestly. Just as she'd told Luke. "I wouldn't have asked for it," she continued, "however, I am confident in saying that when everything was explained to me - to us," she amended, "I never considered leaving Han because of it or asking him to find some way to get rid of Vada."

Dr. Yyeva nodded.

"So from your perspective, the only way forward was to welcome Vada into your home," she said.

Leia nodded.

"Neither Han nor myself anticipated this, we weren't ready for it," she said, her brow furrowing, "and there are…obvious complexities," she noted, snorting, "but ultimately I tried to find a template for it in treating it like," she hesitated, wondering if she was about to sound foolish, "an unplanned pregnancy."

Dr. Yyeva nodded again, sitting back to listen.

"Elaborate on that a little – do you mean you imagined what you would do if it were you who - ?"

"Well, yes, but the only way to parallel that is an unplanned pregnancy," Leia said edgily. "I couldn't have a child without knowing about it. I don't believe Han would have abandoned me if I got pregnant," she said, fluttering her fingers against her chest, "so why would I leave him?"

"Hmm," Dr. Yyeva nodded. "But if you were pregnant, it would be his baby," she pointed out. "Vada is not yours."

"As I said, there are obvious complexities," Leia retorted. "I – Han and I both – we're scavenging for a lens through which to view things."

Dr. Yyeva pursed her lips.

"Do you feel like Vada's presence has disrupted your life?" she asked simply.

Leia stared at her, her brows lifting very slowly, but Dr. Yyeva's face remained impassive, and interested. It seemed like such a stupid question – obviously, the addition of a seven-year-old had 'disrupted' life as they knew it, but what was Dr. Yyeva really asking?

It probed Leia to think, and she held the therapist's gaze quietly for a long time, scouring her own mind for an answer. She ran her hand over her shin, and tapped a protruding bone on her ankle, parting her lips.

"Well," she began delicately. "In simple terms, yes," she said. She shrugged. "There's another person to consider," she said, "school to get her to, Media to protect her from," she trailed off.

"In less than simple terms?" Dr. Yyeva asked.

Leia sighed.

"There's a different element now in navigating my relationship with Han," she said crisply. "I don't want her to be left out. I don't want to impede him developing a relationship with her. I don't want to lose him."

Leia waved a hand tensely.

"And Vada's too young to understand any of that," she muttered.

Dr. Yyeva crossed her legs, and lazily made some notes. Leia watched her hand move sharply, and then rested her chin on her palm and looked away, swallowing hard. She very suddenly hated that she was here. She wanted to go home and go to sleep. Voicing her concerns about her relationship to Luke was troublesome enough, but talking to a therapist about it made the realities seem harsher, and clearer, and she felt doomed.

"Seems like a logical intersection of issues," Dr. Yyeva murmured. "Things to be expected in a normal adjustment period."

Leia flicked her eyes at her warily, and the therapist switched gears, swiping on her pad. Her eyes scanned over some files.

"There are a few of your answers I want to address," she said in a calm, non-threatening voice. "It's futile to tell you not to get defensive, but I just need to expand, study your demeanor – clinical stuff," she said.

Leia snorted – calling it 'stuff' was unexpectedly funny. Dr. Yyeva laughed quietly, and tilted her head back, studying her forms.

"You noted that you have difficulty sleeping four to five nights a week," she said. "Is it that you wake up several times a night, or find yourself unable to go to sleep at all?"

Leia licked her lips, her throat feeling dry. She felt her usual irritation at being asked about her habits, but forced it down, forced herself to answer.

"Both," she said curtly. "I haven nightmares when I do go to sleep, ergo," she trailed off, waiving a hand theatrically – ergo, I dread sleeping.

"What are your nightmares about?" Dr. Yyeva asked.

Leia blinked, and looked away. She closed her eyes for a moment, and rested her chin back on her palm, and sighed quietly.

"The destruction of my home planet," she said, her jaw set tightly. "Various other unpleasant incidents during the course of the Rebellion."

"Could you be a little more detailed?" Dr. Yyeva requested gently.

Leia rubbed her temples. She looked over at her coolly.

"I was tortured," she said tensely. "Sting serum. Routine physical assault," she gestured to her face, "not here, for appearance's sake," she said grimly. "I was forced to watch Han being tortured. That," she took a deep breath, "stuck with me. I have nightmares…about that."

Dr. Yyeva nodded.

"When you wake up, do you find yourself disoriented?"

Leia shrugged.

"For a few seconds, sometimes," she answered. She paused. "Not usually. Han usually wakes me up," she conceded.

"Have you ever reacted violently to being woken up?" Dr. Yyeva asked. "Physically struck yourself or Han or anyone else, seized objects and broken or thrown them?"

Leia blinked, taken aback.

"No," she said.

"Any incidences of somnambulance? Sleep walking," she clarified.

Leia pursed her lips. She shook her head.

"No," she said, soft and confident.

She hesitated, and then caught Dr. Yyeva's eye as she wrote, and sighed again.

"I cry, Dr. Yyeva," she said thinly. "When I wake up. I cry. That's all."

Dr. Yyeva nodded carefully, and when she looked at Leia, her expression was sympathetic, thoughtful, and understanding without being pitying or irritating. For that, Leia was grateful.

"Do you have trouble getting back to sleep?"

Leia licked her lips.

"Not always. It depends on the content of the nightmare. I have," she paused sharply, trailing off, and then took a deep breath before bracing herself and going on: "I have a harder time going back to sleep if Han isn't there. If he's there, I know he's safe," she said curtly. "I know I'm safe."

"Do you associate Han with your personal safety?"

Leia laughed.

"He has, quite literally, ensured my personal safety numerous times, so I don't think it's a stretch for me to feel that way about him," she said dryly.

"Are there reasons beyond the literal you feel that way?"

Leia bit the inside of her lip sharply. She reached up to twist at the stud in her ear, pushing against the metal back of it roughly. It pinched her ear, and she frowned a little, drawing her hand away.

"Wouldn't it be your job to tell me that?" she asked.

Dr. Yyeva raised her eyes, amused.

"At the end of the day, you know yourself better than anyone else," she remarked mildly.

Leia snorted under her breath. She compressed her lips.

"Han loves me," she said, falling silent for a long time after she said it, until she was finally able to find the words to continue: "Before I met Han, the place I was safest was also the place where I was most loved. With my parents, on Alderaan," she murmured.

She turned to look at Dr. Yyeva piercingly.

"Perhaps it has something to do with that."

Dr. Yyeva gave a mysterious little shrug, and smiled.

"Are my sleep habits disqualifying me from sanity?" Leia asked, a sarcastic edge to her voice.

"Your sleep habits are tediously normal for people who have suffered war time trauma, and are struggling to cope with it," Dr. Yyeva said.

Taken aback for a moment, Leia stared at her - tedious? Was that a bit – rude for a therapist to say? She noticed though, a small twitch in Dr. Yyeva's lips, and it had a relaxing affect. Leia smirked, inclining her head with respect – she could get along with this woman.

Dr. Yyeva cleared her throat.

"You noted here," she tapped her stylus against something else on her datapad. "In answer to a question pertaining to sexual assault that you have been sexually assaulted in the past."

Dr. Yyeva pulled her pad up towards her chest and let it rest there, focusing on Leia.

"Was this a childhood event, or did the incident occur in adolescence, adulthood…?"

Leia let one hand drift to her knee, and dug her nails into it, remaining silent. She'd answered that question as honestly as she'd forced herself to answer all the others, but she didn't think it had any bearing on her suitability.

"Adulthood," Leia answered shortly.

Dr. Yyeva nodded. She lifted a hand, turning her palm up calmly.

"Sexual assault is…more common than any of us like to imagine, and the residual trauma can often manifest itself in complicated and unexpected ways," she began.

"I understand that abuse is often cyclical," Leia said dangerously. "I am not going to hurt Vada."

Dr. Yyeva looked gently alarmed, and shook her head. She waved her hand.

"No, no, Leia, that's not at all what I mean. That's not what I'm looking for her whatsoever. I mean it can affect how we connect emotionally, in terms of trust, in terms of resisting physical affection," she explained. "Did you ever speak with a therapist about the assault?"

Leia dug the heel of her hand into her thigh.

"No."

"May I ask why?"

Leia opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. She tried to give herself a moment to think about it, but before she could, she found herself already answering.

"It wasn't rape, so I didn't think it needed therapy."

She blinked, widening her eyes at herself. Dr. Yyeva, however, expressed no shock or confusion; she merely nodded.

"I was," Leia said, her voice soft. "I don't know. I was glad I hadn't 'actually' been raped."

She shrugged, very hard.

"You minimized what had happened to you for your own peace of mind," Dr. Yyeva said. "It's not uncommon," she assured Leia. "When you reflect on the incident now, do you tell yourself to 'get over it'? Do you," she held her hand in front of her, as if trying to find the right words, "think you weren't affected?"

Leia dipped her head into her palm, smoothed her hand over her face, and took a deep breath, lifting her chin to look back at Dr. Yyeva.

"I don't reflect on it," she answered. "I don't think about it unless I have a nightmare about it. It's over. It was just part of the torture."

She looked down at her hand, and ran it over her knee soothingly.

"I'm glad it's over," she said under her breath.

She was silent for a moment, and then looked back up.

"Han asked me to speak with Vada about her time in the home," she murmured, "to make sure she hadn't been sexually abused. She told me she hadn't."

"A relief for everyone, I'm sure," Dr. Yyeva said.

"Yes," Leia said quietly.

"Did Han ask you to have that conversation because he is aware you've had your own experience?"

Leia examined her nails studiously.

"No, I think he asked me because I'm a woman," she said finally. "I don't think he wanted to bring it up at all. He was worried asking me would bother me."

"Han knows you were assaulted, then?"

Leia nodded. She lifted one leg, and rested her arm on her knee, looking up at Dr. Yyeva. She nodded again.

"Do you feel comfortable discussing it with him?"

Leia twitched her nose.

"I don't feel 'uncomfortable' with Han," she said tensely, "but I don't regale him with details."

Dr. Yyeva nodded.

"Do you find it difficult to make emotional connections? To share affection?"

Leia looked at Dr. Yyeva for a long time, considering the question. She was cautious with her personal relationships, and it had taken a lot of work for her to be able to be as vulnerable as she was with Han – but she did not think it was specifically because of the incident on the Death Star.

"I'm careful with myself," Leia said finally. "At times, I am…wary of intimacy, of any kind," she admitted, "but I'm not incapable."

She hesitated again, and then she bit her lip, her eyes burning unexpectedly.

"I don't think I'd make home a cold place for Vada, if she stays with us," she said quietly, gritting her teeth to try and bite back tears.

That couldn't be the implication here, could it? The idea would break her heart. It was already enough of a heartache to constantly be called icy, unfeeling, too logical – the galaxy demanded a lot of her, and she tried to keep her private self exclusive to her inner circle. It was a difficult balance, to seem warm, while also being strong and in command.

"No, Leia, I don't think you would either," Dr. Yyeva said firmly.

She shifted, stretching, and nodded safely.

"We're just talking. I follow up on some questions because they can often trigger a person, and I do need to examine behaviors that are possibly problematic, considering a child's welfare is part of the equation. But I'm looking for psychosis, for unstable expressions of violence," she said earnestly. "Much as it might surprise you to hear this, being affected by trauma in your past does not automatically make you an unfit mother or an unstable person."

Dr. Yyeva shrugged.

"You can be well-adjusted and have mental health impediments."

"Do I have mental health impediments?" Leia asked crisply.

"Whatever you have, you're well adjusted," Dr. Yyeva said cryptically.

She hugged her pad to herself and tapped the back of it gently, cocking her head.

"We're almost done here," she said. "You responses to all the questions pertaining to family were positive. I know you were adopted by the Organas, so I know some of the questions might have lacked depth."