her fingers curl into the material of his orange flight suit. she remains like that, indulging in the sense of steadiness embracing him provides. her grownup son. she pulls back, but not away. sight alone is not enough. her hands lift to his face. her thumb strokes a cheek; her fingers brush his hair away from his face. trying to commit him to memory as if this is only a dream soon to be stripped from her. ]
[ wound tight around her obvious pride is the bittersweet knowledge that she missed it. all of it. thought it hurts, it fails to diminish her joy. does the opposite, in fact. her happiness is almost perfect. ]
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her fingers curl into the material of his orange flight suit. she remains like that, indulging in the sense of steadiness embracing him provides. her grownup son. she pulls back, but not away. sight alone is not enough. her hands lift to his face. her thumb strokes a cheek; her fingers brush his hair away from his face. trying to commit him to memory as if this is only a dream soon to be stripped from her. ]
You look like your father, [ padmé observes with a touch of wonder. when one knows what to look for, the similarities are plain. the color of their eyes, the texture of their hair. the funny laugh. the smiles. ] You've grown so much.
[ wound tight around her obvious pride is the bittersweet knowledge that she missed it. all of it. thought it hurts, it fails to diminish her joy. does the opposite, in fact. her happiness is almost perfect. ]