her worship.

seeing him again, even as––as anakin (the name feels like ash in her throat. that’s not who he is, that’s never who he’ll be to her, not after everything he’s done to her and everything he will do), triggers all the memories from her imprisonment on the death that leia had tried so hard to repress. she swears she feels phantom needles at the base of her neck and spine, and hears the heavy breathing that vader is known for, and she can’t help but flinch away from him, shivering. “get away from me,” she repeats, her normally strong voice wavering. vader has plagued her thoughts and mind for years after his death, and she will never forgive him for the time and peace of mind that he had stolen from her. he says he won’t hurt her anymore, but that will never make up for the hurt in the past. the nightmares, the memories, the scars, the emotional instability, the identity crisis and fear she had felt when she’d learned of her true parentage––all of those could be attributed to him. “i don’t care about your––your fake promises,” she snarls. this anger that’s surging up inside of her, she knows, reflects the anger in him, makes her more like vader. it’s the reason she’s never let luke train her in the force, because she knows there’s a good chance her emotions will get the best of her. “i’m not my brother. i don’t forgive monsters like you.” it’s one of the things that she dislikes about luke, one of the things she can’t bear to hear him talk about. in her mind, vader can never be redeemed. 

luke hasn’t changed at all, even considering that the last time leia had seen him, he had been old and haunted. it’s nice to see him like this again, young and seemingly unburdened, but she knows that he still carries the weight of the entire galaxy on his shoulders, no matter how many times she tries to convince him otherwise––especially in regards to ben. it is only in her weaker moments where she blames luke for his corruption, but she knows that it is due only to her failed attempt at motherhood and ben’s own volition. “it’s my responsibility as the older twin to worry,” she teases, wishing that she could reach out and pull him into a hug. it would comfort the both of them, she believes, especially since she feels as if a strong breeze might knock her over, mentally and physically. she’s had time to come to terms with han’s death, but it doesn’t make it any easier. now that her son is dead as well (and, leia hopes privately and shamefully, dead for good), it feels, sometimes, that it’s her against the world, without anyone she can confide in. luke, however, has always been there for her, even when she had tried to push him away. for that, she is eternally grateful, and hopes to provide the same source of strength for him. “i’m pretty sure it’s illegal to bug a sick person,” she shoots back, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “though have you ever had any regard for the law, mister all powerful jedi?”

“that doesn’t matter. i need to know if i can count on you, rey,” leia told her firmly. if something went wrong, if rey did something irrational, then good people would die today. “so can i count on you or not?”

“what happened with––with ben was not your fault,” leia reminded him. while she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t sometimes blame luke for her son’s fall in moments of weakness, she knew that he had nothing to do with it. in reality, half of the blame had to be put on her and han. “listen to me, luke. i do not blame you.”

“that’s not true, and you know it, rose,” leia chastized gently. while rose was a solider under her command, leia didn’t think of her in that way. her people were never just cannon-fodder. “even if you weren’t our best mechanic, we would still need your help.”

“i’m always careful,” leia reassured her, confidence and self-assured as always. it wasn’t a lie––out of the “original trio,” her, luke, and han, she’d always been the cautious one while they (mostly han) had gotten into trouble. but now that they were––they were dead, she had to learn to think that way, had to condition herself to remember them as that––now that they were dead, now that she was the only one. . .she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “there’s a lot we need to do,” she murmured offhandedly, turning away from the girl and rubbing her forehead with her hands before straightening once again. “how’s this hunk of junk holding up?” oh, if only han was here.

when she hears a familiar voice, she turns around immediately. it’s been a couple months since he died, but she hasn’t been able to get over his death yet. now, hearing his voice and seeing him as young as she is, still shakes her. she’s not used to the idea of him being back in her life, but she’s not going to turn down a gift like this again. “luke!” she exclaims, taking a step forward. wanting to keep him safe, she tugs the collar of her shirt up over her mouth and nose to prevent him from getting sick. “i’m fine. please don’t worry about me. how are you doing? are you feeling sick?”

“we’ll get through it,” leia told her gently. “we always do.” they had to. she didn’t know what she would do if they failed, but she had to be ready regardless of the outcome of this situation. at the girl’s next words, she paused. her condition wasn’t great––she was still weak and too thin from what the disease had done to her––but she’d be damned if she listened to the medic’s orders and stayed in bed like they’d insisted. there was too much work to be done. “i’m fine, rose. please, don’t worry about me.”

feeling a pair of eyes on the back of her neck, leia turns. she’s fallen to the back of the pack, determinded to make sure that no one is left behind as they begin boarding the falcon to iego to get the cure they all so desperately need. she moves gracefully as she looks over her shoulder, though there is nothing but clumsiness when her gaze lands on the face of the man watching her. he addresses her by her name, which makes her lips tug down in a frown. no one in the resistance addresses her by her first name––it’s always “general” or “princess” in the case of some of the older rebels, with an occasional “senator” thrown in every once in awhile. “what––?” she murmurs, eyebrows knitting in confusion as she tries to place––at the moment of realization, her eyes widen, and the mask she keeps in place almost slips. “you’re him,” she says, taking a wavering step forward. “you’re––vader.” luke had told her of her parentage, showing her old holos of padme and anakin, but she hadn’t thought that she’d ever see him. vader’s long gone, but if the force had brought her back. she takes a step back, eyes wide, jutting her chin out. she will not be afraid. she will not let him see that she’s so desperately afraid. “what do you want?” she spits out, holding an arm up to keep him away from her. “get away from me.”

she had to stay strong for the other rebels, the ones who were dying (not like her, not like her, she would be fine) and the ones who had already lost people. the resistance had already lost a couple people to the virus, and she knew it would only damage the organization further she died alongside them––which is why she couldn’t. even if the disease threatened to take her under, she would go down fighting. leia organa was nothing if not a fighter.