fic: learn to live with what you can't rise above (Star Wars; Leia & Anakin; gen)
learn to live with what you can't rise above
Star Wars; Leia, Anakin; g; 1,990 words
Leia doesn't have time for the ghost of her dead father, except when she does.
Title from Bruce Springsteen. Set just post-RotJ, minor spoilers for Shattered Empire.
Or read it at AO3.
~*~
learn to live with what you can't rise above
Debris from the Death Star still occasionally lights up the late night sky as it plummets through the atmosphere to the surface of Endor's sanctuary moon, as the lengthy celebrations have finally started to wind down.
Leia's never been one to wish on falling stars, and even she were, she's been too busy to stop and think about anything but the most immediate ramifications of what's happened, what they've accomplished, what still needs to be done. She knows this war isn't over yet, despite the astounding victory they won two rotations ago. She has to keep moving, because if she stops, she'll have to confront the truths Luke dropped on her before he left to face Vader and the Emperor.
It's easy enough to accept Luke as her brother--she's felt a connection to him since he showed up in the doorway of her cell on the original Death Star four years ago, and while the revelation might cause a few awkward moments, she's loved him almost as long as she's known him.
Vader, on the other hand. It feels just as true as the news about Luke, but she can't give it the attention she probably should, can't let it take hold in her mind, not without the fear that she'll drive herself mad over it, and somehow take the Rebellion--the entire galaxy--down with her.
Still, she can't avoid it forever, and she's never been one to put off a difficult task simply because it's difficult. She might not intend to wind up in the clearing where Luke had burned Vader's body, might not even have consciously known where it is, but she's there now, watching the light breeze stir the dirt and the charred grass.
Her skin prickles with the sensation of being watched, of not being alone, and while once upon a time she might have shrugged it off as paranoia (not that she hasn't found paranoia a great strategy for staying alive on more than one occasion), but now she wonders if it's something more. If she really does have the same connection to the Force as Luke. As their father.
She turns and sees him standing there, outlined in a faint blue glow that makes her think of the saints of one of Alderaan's minor religions, an association so enraging that she's surprised her skin doesn't start burning. She can practically feel the flames licking at her legs.
But no.
"That's not mine," she says sharply.
"Sorry," he says, looking sheepish and younger than she could have possibly imagined. He looks her age. He looks like Luke.
"You should be."
He ducks his head, suddenly solemn and ashamed instead of sheepish. Good.
"Would you like to apologize for everything else while you're at it?" she asks.
"Yes, I would."
"Apology not accepted." She enunciates each word clearly and precisely, the way she was taught in the elocution lessons she received as a girl. They might have happened to an entirely different person, in an entirely different universe, because she hasn't been that little girl in a long, long time.
"I didn't think it would be," he says. "But I've got to try." He gives her a rueful grin that was probably charming when he was alive, when he was actually Anakin Skywalker instead of the ghost of Darth Vader wearing his old face. "I've got nothing but time now."
"Well, I haven't got time for you," she says dismissively, and he disappears.
If only he were so easily banished from her nightmares.
*
The second time he appears, she's back on Home One, sorting through reports from other systems, other battles, trying to make sense of what's happened, and what will need to happen next.
She can feel him, that same electric hum against her skin she'd felt in the woods, so different from the cold oppressive wave Vader had carried with him wherever he went.
"Go away," she says.
"I know you don't want to hear this, but I really am sorry."
Bile climbs up her throat and she has to swallow hard before she can speak. Her voice is rough when she does. "You're right. I don't want to hear it."
The door opens, and Han comes in. "Were you talking to someone?"
"No one important," she says.
He scans the small cabin and gives her a questioning look.
"Vader's ghost."
Han opens his mouth and shuts it again. He's been surprisingly understanding since she told him, but this might be too much even for him.
He glances around the room suspiciously. "You sure he's gone?"
"Yes."
"Because I don't want to get strangled in my sleep."
"Don't worry," she answers with a sardonic grin. "I'm sure I'll kill you before he does."
She ignores the way Vader's ghost flickers in her peripheral vision, and his annoyed, "I don't do that anymore," before he disappears again.
*
Luke doesn't question it when Leia says they have to go back to Naboo. Maybe he feels the same thing she does, the urgent need to visit their mother's grave in the wake of Naboo's near destruction. They haven't really spoken about it yet. She figures the trip there will give them plenty of time for that.
Han argues but only for the sake of arguing. They spend a lot of time on that now, and it would be infuriating if the make-up sex weren't so great. Leia still blushes when she passes that one alcove just outside the high command conference room where he'd pressed her up against the bulkhead and fucked her, both of them so hungry for it that they hadn't cared about the possibility of being seen.
She can't think about that now, though; they have to make sure the Falcon is up for the trip. She can hear Luke's voice as she heads up the ramp, and she stops when she hears Vader's voice in reply.
Then Luke appears in the entranceway and gives her a small, tight smile. "Maybe you could talk to him?" he says. He touches her elbow gently; she's wrapped her arms around herself, a childish gesture intended to make her feel safe. Luke's presence helps with that, and the Force, usually so distant, is suddenly surrounding her, supporting her.
"I think I will." She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders.
"Leia." Luke gives her arm another squeeze. "Have pity. For your own sake, if not for his."
She manages a wry half-smile. "I'll try, but I make no guarantees."
Luke nods. "Okay."
Leia finds Vader hovering over the dejarik table.
"Obi-Wan taught me to play," he says, "though I always liked sabacc better. I think I still owe him eight thousand credits."
"Luke said you wanted to talk to me." Leia folds her arms across her chest. "I'm listening."
"I wanted to thank you for your part in saving Naboo. I didn't know about Operation: Cinder." He radiates sincerity and surprisingly deep sadness. "I would not have had it executed."
Leia inclines her head. She can manage this sort of impersonal communication, even with him. "Palpatine's evil runs deep, but we're trying to root it out."
"Your mother would be so proud of you."
She calls on all her diplomatic and royal training to keep her voice even. "Thank you."
"And I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm also very proud of you and Luke both."
"How dare you?" It bursts out of her despite her intention to treat him with icy politeness, if not the pity or mercy Luke suggested. She'll admit that she doesn't have the tightest rein on her temper where Vader's concerned. Being angry is easier than being hurt all over again. "You tortured me, you tortured Han, you blew up my home, and yet somehow you never realized I was your daughter?" She stalks forward, enumerating her points on her fingers. "And you expect me to accept the relationship now?"
"No." He looks away.
"Good, because I don't. You might have donated some genetic material, but Bail Organa was my father."
"Yes."
"But what I don't understand," she says, and why is she still talking? She's already said everything she wanted to say, but she can't seem to stop herself. "What I don't understand is, why? You found out Luke's name and you turned the galaxy upside down for him. You killed the Emperor for him. But you never once looked at me--in the Senate chamber, on the Death Star, anywhere--and wondered?" Her voice cracks and she hates herself a little for it, for inexplicably being hurt by his ignorance, and even more so for letting him know it.
He still can't meet her gaze. "Leia, I--"
She overrides him. "I've seen pictures of her, you know." Padmé Amidala had been one of her father's--one of Bail's--good friends, and she'd also been a role model to the young senator from Alderaan who'd wanted to make a difference and bring justice to an oppressed and tyrannized galaxy. She doesn't mention the vision she'd had in the Palace at Theed, which she hadn't understood until she'd told Luke about it afterwards. Vader doesn't get to know about that, though. "I do resemble her. And yet it never occurred to you."
Finally he looks up. "No, it did, but I--I was too angry, too steeped in self-loathing to believe it."
Leia lets out an incredulous huff that he ignores.
"Palpatine told me I'd killed her before she gave birth, and I never questioned him. It was only one of the many lies he told me, but it was the most painful one. With Padmé gone, I had no reason not to keep giving into hate and fear, to allow myself to believe she had betrayed me in the end, when in fact I had betrayed her and everything she stood for."
Leia can feel his anguish and she can see, finally, how Luke might have been moved to pity him, even if she can't quite get there herself.
"I don't expect you to understand--I hope you never need to understand--but the Dark Side, it promises power, and it delivers it, but it also makes it impossible to see things clearly, as they truly are. My vision was clouded by it, by the anger, hate, and fear that feed it." He moves toward her but she holds up a hand and he stops, leaving some small distance between them. "I sense that same anger in you, Leia. Please don't let it consume you the way it did me."
Leia closes her eyes, clenches her fists, and forces herself to take several slow, deep breaths before she responds. "I will never be like you."
"No, I don't suppose you'll allow it." He lets out a soft bark of laughter. "That's good, though. The galaxy would never survive."
"Agreed." The fact that he can voice her own deepest fear and dismiss it with a laugh eases something in her, allows her to unbend just a little.
"You do remind me of your mother," he says. "She loved ryoo flowers, you know. They were her favorite. And she liked going swimming in the lake at Varykino, even when the water was cold. Perhaps you'll go there when you are on Naboo."
"Perhaps," she allows, though it's unlikely there will be time for more than a flying visit to Padmé's grave and her sister's family in Theed after they meet with Queen Soruna.
"Then I can't ask for anything more." He clasps his hands together and bows. "Thank you, Your Highness."
He's gone before she can come up with a pithy response.
*
Leia sends Threepio to the florist while they have their conference with the Queen, and he meets them at Padmé Amidala's memorial with a bouquet of ryoo flowers.
"They were her favorite," Leia says, and ignores Luke's knowing smile as she places the flowers on their mother's grave.
end
~*~
Feedback is adored.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/820294.html.
people have commented there.
Star Wars; Leia, Anakin; g; 1,990 words
Leia doesn't have time for the ghost of her dead father, except when she does.
Title from Bruce Springsteen. Set just post-RotJ, minor spoilers for Shattered Empire.
Or read it at AO3.
~*~
learn to live with what you can't rise above
Debris from the Death Star still occasionally lights up the late night sky as it plummets through the atmosphere to the surface of Endor's sanctuary moon, as the lengthy celebrations have finally started to wind down.
Leia's never been one to wish on falling stars, and even she were, she's been too busy to stop and think about anything but the most immediate ramifications of what's happened, what they've accomplished, what still needs to be done. She knows this war isn't over yet, despite the astounding victory they won two rotations ago. She has to keep moving, because if she stops, she'll have to confront the truths Luke dropped on her before he left to face Vader and the Emperor.
It's easy enough to accept Luke as her brother--she's felt a connection to him since he showed up in the doorway of her cell on the original Death Star four years ago, and while the revelation might cause a few awkward moments, she's loved him almost as long as she's known him.
Vader, on the other hand. It feels just as true as the news about Luke, but she can't give it the attention she probably should, can't let it take hold in her mind, not without the fear that she'll drive herself mad over it, and somehow take the Rebellion--the entire galaxy--down with her.
Still, she can't avoid it forever, and she's never been one to put off a difficult task simply because it's difficult. She might not intend to wind up in the clearing where Luke had burned Vader's body, might not even have consciously known where it is, but she's there now, watching the light breeze stir the dirt and the charred grass.
Her skin prickles with the sensation of being watched, of not being alone, and while once upon a time she might have shrugged it off as paranoia (not that she hasn't found paranoia a great strategy for staying alive on more than one occasion), but now she wonders if it's something more. If she really does have the same connection to the Force as Luke. As their father.
She turns and sees him standing there, outlined in a faint blue glow that makes her think of the saints of one of Alderaan's minor religions, an association so enraging that she's surprised her skin doesn't start burning. She can practically feel the flames licking at her legs.
But no.
"That's not mine," she says sharply.
"Sorry," he says, looking sheepish and younger than she could have possibly imagined. He looks her age. He looks like Luke.
"You should be."
He ducks his head, suddenly solemn and ashamed instead of sheepish. Good.
"Would you like to apologize for everything else while you're at it?" she asks.
"Yes, I would."
"Apology not accepted." She enunciates each word clearly and precisely, the way she was taught in the elocution lessons she received as a girl. They might have happened to an entirely different person, in an entirely different universe, because she hasn't been that little girl in a long, long time.
"I didn't think it would be," he says. "But I've got to try." He gives her a rueful grin that was probably charming when he was alive, when he was actually Anakin Skywalker instead of the ghost of Darth Vader wearing his old face. "I've got nothing but time now."
"Well, I haven't got time for you," she says dismissively, and he disappears.
If only he were so easily banished from her nightmares.
*
The second time he appears, she's back on Home One, sorting through reports from other systems, other battles, trying to make sense of what's happened, and what will need to happen next.
She can feel him, that same electric hum against her skin she'd felt in the woods, so different from the cold oppressive wave Vader had carried with him wherever he went.
"Go away," she says.
"I know you don't want to hear this, but I really am sorry."
Bile climbs up her throat and she has to swallow hard before she can speak. Her voice is rough when she does. "You're right. I don't want to hear it."
The door opens, and Han comes in. "Were you talking to someone?"
"No one important," she says.
He scans the small cabin and gives her a questioning look.
"Vader's ghost."
Han opens his mouth and shuts it again. He's been surprisingly understanding since she told him, but this might be too much even for him.
He glances around the room suspiciously. "You sure he's gone?"
"Yes."
"Because I don't want to get strangled in my sleep."
"Don't worry," she answers with a sardonic grin. "I'm sure I'll kill you before he does."
She ignores the way Vader's ghost flickers in her peripheral vision, and his annoyed, "I don't do that anymore," before he disappears again.
*
Luke doesn't question it when Leia says they have to go back to Naboo. Maybe he feels the same thing she does, the urgent need to visit their mother's grave in the wake of Naboo's near destruction. They haven't really spoken about it yet. She figures the trip there will give them plenty of time for that.
Han argues but only for the sake of arguing. They spend a lot of time on that now, and it would be infuriating if the make-up sex weren't so great. Leia still blushes when she passes that one alcove just outside the high command conference room where he'd pressed her up against the bulkhead and fucked her, both of them so hungry for it that they hadn't cared about the possibility of being seen.
She can't think about that now, though; they have to make sure the Falcon is up for the trip. She can hear Luke's voice as she heads up the ramp, and she stops when she hears Vader's voice in reply.
Then Luke appears in the entranceway and gives her a small, tight smile. "Maybe you could talk to him?" he says. He touches her elbow gently; she's wrapped her arms around herself, a childish gesture intended to make her feel safe. Luke's presence helps with that, and the Force, usually so distant, is suddenly surrounding her, supporting her.
"I think I will." She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders.
"Leia." Luke gives her arm another squeeze. "Have pity. For your own sake, if not for his."
She manages a wry half-smile. "I'll try, but I make no guarantees."
Luke nods. "Okay."
Leia finds Vader hovering over the dejarik table.
"Obi-Wan taught me to play," he says, "though I always liked sabacc better. I think I still owe him eight thousand credits."
"Luke said you wanted to talk to me." Leia folds her arms across her chest. "I'm listening."
"I wanted to thank you for your part in saving Naboo. I didn't know about Operation: Cinder." He radiates sincerity and surprisingly deep sadness. "I would not have had it executed."
Leia inclines her head. She can manage this sort of impersonal communication, even with him. "Palpatine's evil runs deep, but we're trying to root it out."
"Your mother would be so proud of you."
She calls on all her diplomatic and royal training to keep her voice even. "Thank you."
"And I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm also very proud of you and Luke both."
"How dare you?" It bursts out of her despite her intention to treat him with icy politeness, if not the pity or mercy Luke suggested. She'll admit that she doesn't have the tightest rein on her temper where Vader's concerned. Being angry is easier than being hurt all over again. "You tortured me, you tortured Han, you blew up my home, and yet somehow you never realized I was your daughter?" She stalks forward, enumerating her points on her fingers. "And you expect me to accept the relationship now?"
"No." He looks away.
"Good, because I don't. You might have donated some genetic material, but Bail Organa was my father."
"Yes."
"But what I don't understand," she says, and why is she still talking? She's already said everything she wanted to say, but she can't seem to stop herself. "What I don't understand is, why? You found out Luke's name and you turned the galaxy upside down for him. You killed the Emperor for him. But you never once looked at me--in the Senate chamber, on the Death Star, anywhere--and wondered?" Her voice cracks and she hates herself a little for it, for inexplicably being hurt by his ignorance, and even more so for letting him know it.
He still can't meet her gaze. "Leia, I--"
She overrides him. "I've seen pictures of her, you know." Padmé Amidala had been one of her father's--one of Bail's--good friends, and she'd also been a role model to the young senator from Alderaan who'd wanted to make a difference and bring justice to an oppressed and tyrannized galaxy. She doesn't mention the vision she'd had in the Palace at Theed, which she hadn't understood until she'd told Luke about it afterwards. Vader doesn't get to know about that, though. "I do resemble her. And yet it never occurred to you."
Finally he looks up. "No, it did, but I--I was too angry, too steeped in self-loathing to believe it."
Leia lets out an incredulous huff that he ignores.
"Palpatine told me I'd killed her before she gave birth, and I never questioned him. It was only one of the many lies he told me, but it was the most painful one. With Padmé gone, I had no reason not to keep giving into hate and fear, to allow myself to believe she had betrayed me in the end, when in fact I had betrayed her and everything she stood for."
Leia can feel his anguish and she can see, finally, how Luke might have been moved to pity him, even if she can't quite get there herself.
"I don't expect you to understand--I hope you never need to understand--but the Dark Side, it promises power, and it delivers it, but it also makes it impossible to see things clearly, as they truly are. My vision was clouded by it, by the anger, hate, and fear that feed it." He moves toward her but she holds up a hand and he stops, leaving some small distance between them. "I sense that same anger in you, Leia. Please don't let it consume you the way it did me."
Leia closes her eyes, clenches her fists, and forces herself to take several slow, deep breaths before she responds. "I will never be like you."
"No, I don't suppose you'll allow it." He lets out a soft bark of laughter. "That's good, though. The galaxy would never survive."
"Agreed." The fact that he can voice her own deepest fear and dismiss it with a laugh eases something in her, allows her to unbend just a little.
"You do remind me of your mother," he says. "She loved ryoo flowers, you know. They were her favorite. And she liked going swimming in the lake at Varykino, even when the water was cold. Perhaps you'll go there when you are on Naboo."
"Perhaps," she allows, though it's unlikely there will be time for more than a flying visit to Padmé's grave and her sister's family in Theed after they meet with Queen Soruna.
"Then I can't ask for anything more." He clasps his hands together and bows. "Thank you, Your Highness."
He's gone before she can come up with a pithy response.
*
Leia sends Threepio to the florist while they have their conference with the Queen, and he meets them at Padmé Amidala's memorial with a bouquet of ryoo flowers.
"They were her favorite," Leia says, and ignores Luke's knowing smile as she places the flowers on their mother's grave.
end
~*~
Feedback is adored.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/820294.html.
people have commented there.