[ He listens, still and patient- it's surprisingly easy, with Padmé. Some of what she says he already knows. Some of it, he doesn't.
He thinks of the night Leia had come to him. He thinks of his attempts to navigate around the inevitable questions that were always going to shatter everything. He thinks of his attempt to persuade her to let go of the pain of the past and he hates himself for his cowardice. For trying to escape her anger by encouraging her to make promises she could never understand the weight of, let alone keep.
And then Padmé says she is not that person yet, and he can't think of anything else, because he knows the truth in that instant. His mother is lost to him. He will never find what he is so desperately looking for from his mother; not here, because she is yet to exist, and not there, because she is gone. ]
No. I know. [ He swallows, glancing upward in an attempt to keep his eyes from welling up. ] No.
My mother's dead, Padmé. She's dead. That's why I went to her. I wanted to see her. I just wanted to see her.
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He thinks of the night Leia had come to him. He thinks of his attempts to navigate around the inevitable questions that were always going to shatter everything. He thinks of his attempt to persuade her to let go of the pain of the past and he hates himself for his cowardice. For trying to escape her anger by encouraging her to make promises she could never understand the weight of, let alone keep.
And then Padmé says she is not that person yet, and he can't think of anything else, because he knows the truth in that instant. His mother is lost to him. He will never find what he is so desperately looking for from his mother; not here, because she is yet to exist, and not there, because she is gone. ]
No. I know. [ He swallows, glancing upward in an attempt to keep his eyes from welling up. ] No.
My mother's dead, Padmé. She's dead.
That's why I went to her. I wanted to see her. I just wanted to see her.