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The first time, Bail didn’t think anything of it. It was surprising to give instructions to Leia—on behalf of Padmé, Bail would never overstep—and when he added maybe more reminders than was strictly necessary for her to say, “Yes, Papa,” with a roll of her eyes. But she’d immediately turned crimson and apologized so profusely Bail had been terrified that he’d lost all the progress he had finally made with her. So he’d dismissed it as nothing, tried to ignore the strange twist on Leia’s face, and moved on with his day.
He’d told Breha about it, of course. Partly as an anecdote he thought she’d find amusing at his expense, and partly because he’d whined to her more than once that Padmé’s newest team member didn’t seem comfortable around him.
She’d let him have his joke, but he’d seen something more serious behind her eyes and failed to get it out of her before she’d teased and distracted him onto other things.
The second and third time were slightly less awkward than the first in that it wasn’t as shocking. But Bail couldn’t ignore that it had happened so many times by that point, and he was starting to guess at what his wife might not have mentioned when they’d first spoke.
When he brought it up this time, she offered, “Grief can make joy more painful and dangerous than malice.”
“I’m not that old,” Bail had complained. Breha had laughed at him.
“Why would you need to be? She’s chasing a memory. It’s just strange luck that you fit so closely.”
He didn’t comment that she hadn’t called it bad luck. They’d started putting off adoption talks again, with his duties on Coruscant rolling back up into a cacophony. They couldn’t wait forever. The other houses would want Breha to name an heir soon, especially if the political turmoil increased. But they’d hoped to make the decision together. And that Bail’s duties would have relaxed to a point where he could be home more often to get a chance to actually be a father in more than title.
The timing of this war couldn’t have been worse if it had been planned.
The fourth time Leia accidentally called him Papa, Bail had found her slumped over her desk, head pillowed on her arms, reports strewn about all around her. The light from various screens had made her look pale and cold, and Bail had felt bad that he had been the one to find her like this.
When she’d cracked open sleepy eyes and asked, “Papa?” in a plaintive, hopeful tone all of Bail’s good sense had left him. He’d dared to reach out a hand and touch her head, stroking once and whispering, “It’s alright. Go back to sleep.” And been more than a little horrified when she had with a contented hum. As though she’d really thought he was her father, and thus safe to obey and leave herself defenseless around.
He’d told Padmé about Leia’s nap, and immediately locked himself in his office to consult with his wife. She’d teased a little, but he could see she was also worried. Whether about Bail’s behavior or Leia’s he didn’t have time to find out. But she did tell him, “You need to talk to her. Soon.”
He’d put it off long enough that Leia had done it a fifth time, and instead of brushing it off or accepting her apology, Bail had asked, “Do I really remind you of him that much?”
He’d seen Leia perform any number of careful tricks with her face and body since he’d known her, some he recognized from his wife, others from Padmé. This careful blankness, touched with just a little open eyed innocence wasn’t exactly a trick from either, but Bail couldn’t shake the familiarity of it. Her casual, “I guess, sometimes,” was smooth and effortless.
But there was something—in her eyes, in the too perfect control of her posture—that made him think inside she was screaming.
He hadn’t pushed.
It wasn’t until he’d joking called her “little mountain”—too many hours without sleeping and desperately searching for ideas and an ally to combat the most recent emergency powers edict—that he actually saw her break for a moment.
Which was strange because while Bail could imagine a hundred things about himself that might superficially resemble some shadowy father from Leia’s past, the name was too specific to Alderaan for him to let the reaction go.
“There are no records of you on our planet,” he’d said after a moment, too tired to be anything less than blunt, though he’d tried to be kind. “But you can serve an Alderaanian formal tea.” When she didn’t answer him, he had to add, “You keep calling me Papa.”
Not father. Not something formal. Something a small child would call a favored parent. Something that still carried affection and obedience and love.
He watched Leia gnaw on her lip before she said, “I did live there.”
“There’s no record.”
“There won’t be.”
But it sounded like, “There can’t be.” And Bail had to ask, “Why?”
And maybe Leia hadn’t had enough sleep either. Maybe she was too far gone, because she said, “Because I don’t exist.”
And Bail thought she really meant it. “I’m looking right at you. I’ve touched you. I’ve seen you bleed.”
Leia shrugged, looking away. “There’s no record. You won’t find any.” She laughed. “It wouldn’t matter if you could. They’d all be a lie anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t supposed to exist at all,” she suggested. But it sounded more self deprecating than honest. When he kept staring at her, she tried, “I don’t know exactly where I’m from. Just where I was raised. And who I was raised to be.” A deep breath in. “It wasn’t a lie exactly. Just…not the truth.”
“Who were you supposed to be?”
She shuddered, shoulders pulling in. “Leia Skywalker, apparently.”
And Bail knew, objectively, that Leia loved Shmi. That she cared in some way for Anakin, and that she had no problem with her current family and name.
But he found himself wondering what else she had been besides “Skywalker,” and wondering if the weighty silence after “Leia” couldn’t have been…familiar. But no. That would be insanity.
His hand touched her shoulder, gently, and he said, “You’re always welcome. On Alderaan. As Leia Skywalker or…anything. Anything else you decide.”
And he had to watch her say, “Thank you,” equal parts longing and anguish on her face.
When he tried to tell Breha later, he couldn’t find words for it. But he looked at her face and saw almost the same expression and wondered if she recognized it anyway.