"Rebirth"
Rating: PG. No sex. Reference to violence.
As the galaxy that Bail knew dies, something new is born.
Bail held the tiny creature in his arms. It could fit in the space between his palm and his elbow, with room to spare. Such a small thing, but with such great significance.
In a matter of weeks, his entire life had come crashing down around him: his career, the world he'd known, everything he had believe in. The Republic had been dissolved, warped into an "empire" ruled not by the consent of the governed, but by force. The Jedi Order, even older than the Republic itself, now declared outlaw, slaughtered by their own troops. The Temple itself reduced to a charred, crumbling ruin. Bail had seen the destruction with his own eyes, had watched helplessly as young padawans - mere children, toddlers - were gunned down in cold blood by merciless clonetroopers.
Not all the Jedi had been killed. Somewhere out there in the stars, Obi-Wan was still alive. Bail didn't know where or when he would ever see him again, but the knowledge that Obi-Wan was out there gave him great comfort. If Obi-Wan had been murdered too, Bail thought surely the grief would have killed him. The heart is strong, able to bear far more pain than one might like. But even the heart could be destroyed by a series of great shocks. And these shocks were great, indeed.
Yet even in the midst of such horror and betrayal, life went on. People died, yes, but not only from blaster wounds. They died from disease and old age. But they also lived. They got married. They were born. Like this child in his arms. Born raw and naked into a galaxy that was being torn apart and remade into something terrible and ugly. No child should have to live in such a galaxy. Yet they did.
The infant wriggled in his arms and stared up at him with impossibly huge eyes, too young even to wonder where her next meal would come from, when her diaper would be changed. She was a blank slate, pure potential, a future yet to be realized. He held a lifetime here in the span between palm and elbow. What would be her favorite color? What would her voice sound like? Would she be tall or short? What color would her hair be when it began to grow?
As a politician, Bail was skilled at reading people's personalities through their clothes and expressions, their gestures and manner of speech. But he could see nothing in this child. She looked like any other human baby, with flailing fists and snub nose and toothless gums. She was a nonentity, not even his flesh and blood.
But when he looked into those enormous eyes, he felt his heart expand. His heart, so beaten and broken by the suffering of these weeks, months, years, now stirred within him, pumping lifeblood through his dry veins. He could scarcely bring himself to care about this galaxy any more, could not bear to think of Obi-Wan out there, hiding alone. But when he looked at this child, he felt a love more fierce and powerful than anything he'd ever felt in his life. He would give his own body to feed her if he could. He would swallow her up and keep her safe inside him. He would let nothing harm her. He, who had always abhorred violence, felt that he would even kill to protect her. This love filled him, burning him up from the inside, cracking him open and remaking him, just as the galaxy had been remade by fire. It hurt, this love, but he was helpless against it. He had wanted nothing more than to retire, to hide away, to disappear from the world, but this love called him back, called him to action. And even though he hated it, he knew he would respond to that call.
He wanted this child to grow up in a better world. She deserved better than the darkness that now shrouded them, and as long as there was breath in his body, he would do everything in his power to make this world a place fit for her, this precious child who knew nothing. He would die for her. And he would live for her.
She was not his flesh. She was his heart.
His daughter.
Leia.
~ fin ~