i'm in misery where you can seem as old as your omens
and the mother we share will never keep your proud head from falling

chvrches "the mother we share"

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He is young when he realizes he can tell when people are lying to him. It's just a feeling he has, one of those feelings that Uncle Owen doesn't understand it when he tries to explain, but he knows before he even really knows what lying is.

And he quickly learns that lying was one of Aunt Beru's tight smiles and Uncle Owen's flashing eyes.

So when he becomes curious about parents ("Not aunts and uncles, moms and dads," he explains to Aunt Beru one night, her face tired and sad) he begins to understand that there is some Secret and that Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru are very clever, because he knows they are lying to him, but he can't figure out why.

"Your mother was very sad," Aunt Beru would say, softly, before bed, "And she would give anything to be here right now."

Eventually, Luke stops asking about his mother.

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The lights are dim in the Millennium Falcon and Luke's eyes itch from staring at a ceiling tile for too long. The other's had retired to their bunks hours ago, but he just sat in the dim light too tired to try moving. He could feel Leia reaching out to him through the Force in her sleep and smiled. Their bond has been gradually growing stronger in the months since Endor, it was a bit like stretching a muscle that was out of shape.

Perhaps they had always been reaching for each other, as children and when they had been Rebels they gravitated towards each other.

Another presence dripped through his mind, making him jump in surprise. It was a bit like Leia, but softer and warmer, and with none of Leia's acidity. It was uncertain, but not unkind. His mind reflexively responded to it.

Mother. Luke's eyes shot open.

There was a woman standing a few strides away from him, beautiful with a kind face and sad eyes. (She was beautiful, kind, but sad). Her arms outstretched, and her mouth open, calling to him silently. Like the stories of sand demons with beautiful forms who lure men away from their homes in the middle of sand storms he had heard often growing up, Luke felt himself being pulled to her. And he realized he was no longer on the Falcon, this was somewhere much cleaner than anywhere Luke had ever been, the skyline of a city was out the viewport- no, a window, yes he wasn't even on a ship anymore.

"My darling," she said when he reached her, her voice like bells. Her arms reached up and hands cupped his face, "You've grown so much."

He doesn't respond. He doesn't know how. And he feels ashamed. How could he forgive his father, his terrible, cruel (good) father and yet feel so betrayed by a mother who (abandoned them) he never knew?

He bows his head away from her touch and her fingers flinch back, just hovering over his cheek. After a moment her hand drops back to her side. He wants to know everything about her, every breath she took, every moment she witnessed. And he just stares.

She's broken, her face is stitched together with pain and she looks as if she might collapse.

"It's not your fault," he finds himself saying.

But she shakes her head, "I was foolish when I was young, I was selfish. If I hadn't- didn't- the galaxy wouldn't have… I put my own happiness first." She said the last bit in a hoarse whisper and Luke can see guilt resting on her shoulders. She took the sorrow of an entire galaxy and placed it on her back and tried to hold it all.

"You can't blame yourself for something you couldn't have predicted," Luke insists, "It was Father who Fell, it was his choices and in the end it was his choice to turn to the Emperor."

"I wasn't strong enough-" she wasn't much older than him when she died, he thinks, "-I wasn't strong enough to save him or to be with you and Leia. And I wish that I would have been."

He finally reaches out to her, and desperately tries to take the guilt off her back, to share the load. And he realizes he doesn't even know her name.

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He rests his head on her shoulder and her arms circle him. There is so much pain and grief between them and they're both trying to squeeze it out.

"Where are we, exactly?" Luke asks, his voice somewhat muffled in the fabric of her gown.

"You're dreaming, my dear," she says, "And this-" she looks around, like she's seeing it first time, "-was my old apartment, I haven't been here for a long time."

"How-" he stops and decides it doesn't matter, she's here, "Leia?"

"In time," she nods, "But you needed me."

He can feel himself waking up and holds her tighter, fearful of letting her go.

"I love you," she says seriously, "Never doubt that."

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"What's your name?"

"Padmé Amidala."

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Luke's neck is stiff that morning and his arm's asleep, but he feels better than he has in long time. Leia is looking at him curiously, but doesn't ask questions. He can feel her mind probing his and grins.

"What can you tell me about Padmé Amidala?"

Leia's mouth makes a small 'o' of surprise. And eyes widen when she realizes what he's asking.

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a/n: padmé is the type of person who, i think, would place the blame of what happened to the galaxy on her shoulders. she would constantly think "if i'd done this anakin wouldn't have…" "if i stopped that palpatine couldn't have…" edit: dear lord i did not realize this would be such a big deal. No, I do not think padmé is to blame for everything that happens, obviously. however i do think that she would blame herself for it. Is it justified for her to blame herself? no! but seeing as this was the woman who has always faced death by continuing to do her job, putting her duty before her life, she would see the empire as a failure on her part. again, this is not justified.