[Leia glances over at Luke just in time to catch his eye. The way he's smiling at her, she feels like she could guess his thoughts.
Her own are a melange of loneliness and satisfaction. Never knowing her mother, not beyond inexplicable impressions of her, is a deeper ache than ever before. But for the first time, she has something to hold onto beyond that sad beauty, a story she can picture in her mind. (Better still, a story she can find herself--and Luke--in.)
And if they could end things right here, she'd be happy.
She knows she ought to be agreeing with Luke, trying to do something to draw Anakin out--and with anyone else, she'd make the effort.
But with Anakin, she can't. Even with the half-hearted desire to make some show of interest beyond Padme, her throat remains stubbornly closed. She only stares up at him, mouth set, waiting for him to answer Luke's questions.]
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Her own are a melange of loneliness and satisfaction. Never knowing her mother, not beyond inexplicable impressions of her, is a deeper ache than ever before. But for the first time, she has something to hold onto beyond that sad beauty, a story she can picture in her mind. (Better still, a story she can find herself--and Luke--in.)
And if they could end things right here, she'd be happy.
She knows she ought to be agreeing with Luke, trying to do something to draw Anakin out--and with anyone else, she'd make the effort.
But with Anakin, she can't. Even with the half-hearted desire to make some show of interest beyond Padme, her throat remains stubbornly closed. She only stares up at him, mouth set, waiting for him to answer Luke's questions.]