( It hits her like a plasma blast, seeing her mother like this. She looks different, care-worn. Older, though that's not what hurts; it's the look on her face, the lines on her face that weren't borne of smiling or squinting at paperwork or at her dad when he was being a laserbrain.
Not even losing Anakin, nor the way Han had pulled away from her after Chewbacca's death had done that to the mother she remembers. And to that end, the shame, anger and despair she feels inside multiplies. This is not the life her mother deserves. Not by lightyears.
Standing straight, despite her diminutive height, Jaina wavers, and then approaches her with the gait of a soldier—
—only to clasp her arms tightly about her, as if trying to protect her from all the terrible things she's seen. Seen and done. And maybe, somewhere inside, the little girl who'd longed for the mother who'd had to put ruling the galaxy over being as involved as she'd like in the raising of her children just wants to be held. Jaina doesn't cry, but she does release a deep, shuddering breath.
no subject
Not even losing Anakin, nor the way Han had pulled away from her after Chewbacca's death had done that to the mother she remembers. And to that end, the shame, anger and despair she feels inside multiplies. This is not the life her mother deserves. Not by lightyears.
Standing straight, despite her diminutive height, Jaina wavers, and then approaches her with the gait of a soldier—
—only to clasp her arms tightly about her, as if trying to protect her from all the terrible things she's seen. Seen and done. And maybe, somewhere inside, the little girl who'd longed for the mother who'd had to put ruling the galaxy over being as involved as she'd like in the raising of her children just wants to be held. Jaina doesn't cry, but she does release a deep, shuddering breath.
It's a struggle. )