a/n: set in the sequels universe, handling the canon information (revealed in the TFA novelization) that Leia knew Snoke would try to turn Ben, but didn't confide in Han. based on a concept that Snoke had been after Ben his whole life.

Whisperings

Sleepless nights were supposed to be a thing of the past. They had been told – by humans, mostly, but even by other sentient beings with younglings – that the first year was the hardest; the first six months the most brutal of all, when it came to feeling rested.

Ben was almost six, though, and he kept them up all the time.

Han usually didn't wake his wife up on the nights he was assigned to kid duty – they took turns; they both had busy schedules in the New Republic, and couldn't expect only one of them to handle the trials of parenthood – but tonight, tonight –

Tonight was different, tonight he didn't bother being quiet or gentle when he slid back into bed; tonight he touched her shoulder, gripped it lightly, and shook her gingerly. Years after the Empire's destruction, the death of Vader, the obliteration of the Death Stars, and he still didn't dare startled Leia out of sleep – she was too badly scarred.

She turned towards him at his touch, eyes closed.

"What was it this time?" she murmured softly, her voice thick with exhaustion. "Pillows fluffed again?"

The last time Ben had a restless night – two days ago, precisely – he'd wanted his mother to fluff his pillows exactly seven different times. She wasn't necessarily the type to spoil her child, but she sensed there was something more to his constant clingy restlessness.

Luke had warned her –

Han shook his head.

"No," he said hoarsely.

"Blue milk? Water?" Leia asked with a yawn.

"No, Leia."

She opened her eyes. She saw a wary, almost haunted look in his eyes, and she pursed her lips, something unpleasant turning over in her stomach. She moved her hand, reaching out to touch his elbow lightly.

"What is it, Han?"

He swallowed, shaking his head a little.

"He said he's hearin' voices," he said, resting his head tensely on the pillow next to hers.

Leia's mouth felt dry. She gazed at him for a moment.

"He had a nightmare," she stated, trying to make it matter-of-fact; trying to force Han to tell her that's what he meant.

"No, Leia," Han said emphatically. "He said voices. Whispers."

She sat up, holding herself up with one arm. She stared down at Han, and he blinked at her with concern, his brown eyes fixed on hers.

"What's he talking about?" he asked gruffly, quietly. "Is this some – Force thing?"

Leia didn't answer. She didn't hear voice – not unless she focused, reached out and listened, opened her mind to purposefully eavesdrop. Luke – Luke heard voices in his visions, he heard whispers; he'd told her the whispers were sinister, dark, that they sought something – or someone – close to him –

"I'll go check on him," Leia decided, her voice hushed.

She started to get up; Han caught her nightgown in his fingers, tugging her back a moment.

"What's going on?" he asked.

She set her teeth. She'd sworn that, whatever this was, she wasn't burdening him with it. It was something Luke could handle; something she could protect Ben from – whatever it was: the remnants of the Sith Empire, the hisses of some new threat looming.

"He's a little kid, Han," she soothed. "They're fanciful."

Han watched her leave, unconvinced. She ignored his sharp gaze, taking the familiar path from their bedroom down the hall to Ben's. Entering quietly, she turned on a small lamp.

He was sitting up in bed, cross-legged, tired; ruffled hair sticking up in ten different directions, huge brown eyes looking at her earnestly. His pajamas were rumpled, and he blinked at her uncertainly a moment. His little face lit up, and he lifted his hands.

"Mommy," he said.

She came to sit on the bed, reaching for him. He crawled into her lap, abandoning the stuffed animals tucked in with him.

"What's wrong tonight, Ben?" she asked, kissing the top of his head.

She combed her fingers through his hair

The fears she'd had about children, about her lineage, had all disappeared the moment she first held him in his arms, seen the look of wonder in Han's eye when they handed the baby to him. The fears had come back, but Luke warned her not to give into them, not to let on to anyone, most of all Ben, that fate fought a constant battle over Skywalker men.

"I can't sleep 'cause of the hissing," Ben murmured, tapping his ears. His voice was high, childish; innocent. "Mean hissing in my ears," he said.

Nodding seriously, letting him know she was listening, Leia pushed his hair back.

"What is the hissing saying?" she asked.

If Luke had something definitive, somewhere to start, maybe they could figure out who – what – was after her son.

Ben shook his head.

"I don't know the language," he told her earnestly. "But it's mean." He bared his teeth, and held up his hands like claws.

Leia smiled at him.

"Daddy said it's just dreaming," Ben whispered. "But I'm awake."

Leia clicked her tongue soothingly.

"Daddy has bad dreams," she told him. "So do I. He thinks he knows what's bothering you," she tried.

"Daddy doesn't like me," Ben said suddenly, his voice darkening, a shadow flitting across his face.

Shocked, Leia looked down at him. She tilted is chin up, searched his face – a face that was hostile for a moment, innocent in the next split second, his lips pursing in a trembling pout.

"That isn't true, Ben Solo," she said, very softly, very firmly. "You know that isn't true."

She squeezed him in a small hug, holding him against her.

"Why would you think something like that?"

"I don't," whined Ben shakily. "The whispering does."

Cold fear gripped Leia's heart; that was something for Luke – that was something for a Jedi Master: why would any shadow, and darkness, any threat, seek to sow discord between Han and his only child?

Leia swallowed hard. Without thinking too much about it, she picked Ben up, easily supporting his weight. Despite her small stature, she'd always been strong, and carrying her own child was no strain at all. As an afterthought, she picked up the woven doll Chewbacca had brought Ben from Kashyyyk – his favorite toy – and brought it with her down the hall, back to their master bedroom.

Han stirred when he heard her, sitting up, supported on his elbows. He watched her shut the door; hauling a sleepy, tense Ben into the room with her. She sat him down on the end of the bed, and then crawled back into her spot, placing her hand between herself and her husband.

Han gave her a questioning look – Ben hadn't slept in the same room with them since he was a baby, give or take a few bad planetary storms. Unless Han was taking him somewhere on the Falcon – Ben was scared to sleep alone in the crew cot.

She gave him a look in return that indicated they'd talk later, and slid the Wookiee toy over to him. Han placed his hand over it.

"C'mere, Ben, what're you waiting for?" he asked.

Ben crawled towards them, sitting in between them.

"I can stay here?" he asked uncertainly.

Leia ran her hand up and down his back soothingly.

"You'll feel safer here," she told him confidently. "No one is going to dare whisper to you with us in the room."

Ben frowned at her, very serious for a five-and-a-half-year-old. He looked at Han.

"Is that true?" he asked earnestly. "No whispers?"

Han nodded curtly.

"You think I'd let anyone get you, kid?" he asked, pretending to bare his teeth protectively.

He reached out and tickled Ben's stomach. The little boy giggled, collapsing on the pillows and thrashing around. Leia smiled, and rolled her eyes.

"The point is to get him back to sleep, Han," she said, stifling a yawn.

Grinning sheepishly, Han ceased the tickling, and laid his head down, handing Ben the toy. Ben hugged it, rolling over. He snuggled up to Han's chest; burying his face in the old t-shirt his father wore.

Leia smiled.

"Daddy," Ben mumbled. "Do you like me?"

Disarmed, Han's content look turned troubled, stormy. He looked at Leia, a pained tenseness striking his jaw. The confusion, the hurt, which characterized his expression in that moment, wounded her – but she didn't have answers for him; she didn't understand where Ben was getting this.

Han ruffled his hair, bent to kiss the top of his head.

"'Course I like you, Ben," he answered gruffly. "I love you."

He felt Ben smile contently. The little boy put his arm around Han's neck, and settled down to try and sleep.

Long after his breathing had evened out, his parents lay wide awake, staring at each other, communicating without speaking. Leia ached for Luke's insight on this, desperately wondered why it had to be this way, why the force couldn't skip a generation; Han watched her mind work behind her deep brown eyes, and asked himself what she wasn't telling him.

feedback appreciated!

-alexandra
story #274