photophobic | [IC CONTACT]

Do you want me to apologize for what we did, how we pushed you away? You can't feel how much regret I've carried since I made that decision and put you in that position? I am sorry. Sincerely, I am. And I do regret it. I will always regret it.

[ She takes a small step forward. Apologizing to him, expressing, Leia feels she needs to see it through and say it all to him before the illness spreads too far too fast. So he knows. ]

In no way am I blaming you for not coming to us, and if you feel that I am, I'm also sorry for that.

I only have myself to blame for this.

[ For entertaining the idea of Luke guiding her son, for agreeing to it and letting him go. They were all hurting but she knew that her son was hurting all the more. ]

Do you want revenge?

[ He can feel it. She is saturated with it. Regret is... so much of who she is, now– as anger has become so much of him. He takes a shuddering breath, broad shoulders dropping, losing their furious, hunched tension. His gaze slides away. ]

Against you?

[ He sniffs. Blinks a little too rapidly. Shakes his head. ]

No.

[ It's instinct that, as she sees the drop of his shoulders and his gaze leaving hers, Leia leans forward and reaches up to touch his jaw to bring his attention back to her. ]

You would never intentionally hurt me. I know this.

[ She feels it. Just as she'd felt the struggle in him when she'd sensed him approaching her ship. ]

[ He lets her guide him back, dark eyes settling on hers– and the struggle behind them is entirely obvious. He swallows, hard, wanting so much to be stronger than this.
But he has no hate to draw on, with her, and even his anger fails to stir. The only thing left is grief.

Regret.

He doesn't know how to contain it. Having relied on fury for so long, so much of the rest of him has wasted away. It feels like calling on muscles that have atrophied. ]

I might have, once.
But no. I couldn't.

[ My boy... she thinks to herself, thumb brushing his cheek, also thinking about how she'd failed him. His regret matches hers, his grief...

Han is gone, they've both lost so much. ]

I wouldn't hold it against you.

[ His eyes flicker shut– he leans, just slightly, into that touch. But he can't respond. As much as he wants to, as much as some part of him wants to tell her that he's sorry.

Apologies don't bring back the dead, or unmake the past. He knows this. He sucks in a shaky lungful of air, conflict rattling in his chest. ]

[ It tugs at her heart as she watches and feels him lean in, however slight the movement is. There's always been conflict in him and she was so helpless to easing it. Leia reaches her hand up higher to brush dark locks off his brow. A fleeting memory comes to mind then of happier times, her fingers running through his hair when he was a child and slept against her.

It all fades to black then and Leia has to let her hand drop to his arm suddenly, heavily, a catch in her breath. She's unsteady for a moment, dizzy where she stands, and her head drops to rest her forehead against his chest as she focuses on breathing. Weakness seeps into her muscles and threatens to buckle her old joints; drawing on the Force helps in keeping her upright.

Anytime she's experienced these moments, it was in the privacy of her quarters or in the medbay. It was away from any prying eyes. Even Poe was unaware though she didn't doubt that he had his suspicions. ]

[ It's instinctual. She clutches at him and his free hand flies up, steadying, a support against her back. She can lean against him– he is strong, firm, and willing. Despite everything, utterly willing.

His heart pounds furiously. ]

...You should sit.

That...would be a good idea.

[ A very good idea. Leia takes one more moment to collect herself. She appreciates the support. Once she's sure she can straighten up she gives his arm a squeeze, looking for the nearest bench. ]

[ Kylo knows this park. Lending her his strength, he guides her to the closest, helping her ease herself down to sit– and after a brief but intense internal debate, he joins her rather than remaining standing, looming.

He doesn't know what to say. He knows her suffering is his fault. ]

[ She trusts him to guide her, welcoming the sturdy seat once she's on it. Taking a measured breath she closes her eyes and lets the silence drag, waiting for this episode to pass. It's like a clamp is squeezing around her heart and lungs, something heavy sitting in her veins and spreading. Leia's gotten used to it.

Neither of them are talking still. Kylo might not know what to say while she doesn't know how to say what she needs to. She looks up at the sky and takes a moment to search it, thinking back to all of the moments where she would lay outside of a rebel base and was able to point out exactly where Alderaan once sat. ]

You must have sensed it by now.

[ He nods, sitting in difficult, miserable silence beside his mother– a woman who is dying. He can't change the reality of that any more than he can change the past. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. ]

I know.

[ Her hand reaches for his, holding it gently. ]

No matter what, I love you.

[ One last important thing she'd needed to tell him, getting the chance to, after everything. ]

[ He doesn't recoil. If anything, he leans towards her– just a little, not even necessarily a conscious decision. His heart pounds, breath shuddering in his chest. ]

I know.

[ It's a quiet, mumbled admission, ragged at the edges where he refuses to let his voice break. ]

Edited 2018-10-16 05:28 (UTC)

[ "I know."

Those two words are enough to break her. They alone carry so much meaning to her. Briefly her hand tightens around his as her head ducks. The breath she takes hitches and shudders, emotion suddenly choking her.

I know.

The emotion seems to pour out of her as the first tear treks down her cheek. Frail shoulders that have gone on for decades holding so much begin to shake. Leia's only had so many moments of privacy where she can face her grief head on, unfortunately grief plays by no rules and comes and goes in waves, whenever it pleases. ]

[ He doesn't really know what he did. He'd only meant to... to what, exactly? Reassure her, he supposes. He'd only wanted her to know that he believed her, that he'd heard what she'd said and known it to be true, and now–

Grief is pouring out of her. Such grief– such horrible, yawning, tearing loss. And he may be a monster, but he can't help but answer its call. His arm is around her shoulders, guiding her to the solid promise of his chest even as his heart thumps so furiously he can't seem to hear anything else but the blood rushing in his ears and her quiet, shaking sobs. ]

[ It did matter, to her, that he knew that she loved him. It mattered that he believed her. It also mattered that he was there to support her, the very same person who'd caused her this wracking grief in the first place.

Leia turned her face to his chest and leaned into him, the weight of his arm around her a comfort and yet not. This had been a long time coming, the freedom to openly cry, to allow herself to drown for a mere moment and let it consume her. ]

I'm sorry, [ two simple words that carried so much weight behind them, they came out broken. She was sorry, so very sorry, for nearly turning on him with her lightsaber, a memory she remembered vividly. He didn't have to know what they meant. He could've assumed whatever he wanted upon hearing them half muffled against him. ]

[IC CONTACT]

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rages third time is a charm

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