Powerless
Summary: Leia's inner thoughts as a trajedy unfolds.
Not sure where this idea came from, it just popped into my head one night around midnight, and here it is.
I am powerless.
Normally I wouldn't admit this to anyone, not even myself. I am Leia Organa-Solo, former Princess of Alderaan, once Rebel leader, active member of the New Republic, Jedi in training, persuasive politician; I am loved by some and respected by most. They respect me for the power I yield, but none know the truth.
I am powerless.
And I have never felt that stirring feeling as much as I do at this moment. I am powerless to do anything except stare into that bacta tank where my daughter is fighting for her life.
It all happened so fast; the speeder came out of nowhere. I could see it all happening, like a slow motion holo-vid. Jaina ran ahead while I called Han on my communicator to tell him we'd be home shortly. I felt this terrible churning in my gut, a disturbance in the Force. I looked up in time to see the metal body collide with my daughter's own. I heard her scream in the millisecond before the collision and heard her bones crack as she hit the ground some feet away.
I was powerless.
I couldn't move; my legs refused to carry me to the spot where my daughter, my own flesh and blood, lay broken and unconscious. All I could do was stare. My mind had yet to process what my eyes had seen, but when the message did get through, I took off in a dead sprint.
I don't really know what happened in the time that followed. A crowd gathered, people stared and spoke in hushed voices; the ambulance came and took us both to the med-lab. I believe one of the attendants told me that Han had been contacted and was on his way, but I can't be sure. Everything was a blur; sounds muffled and colors faded into one another.
And I was powerless to do anything about it.
The doctor came then, came into the waiting room and talked with me. I tried to pay attention to his words, I really did, but I thing part of me didn't want to hear what he had to tell me. My mind strayed to the room just down the hall. I sought her out with my mind, trying desperately to sense her spirit; there was nothing.
So here I stand, in the middle of a brightly lit, sterile looking room, staring at the limp body of my first born child being suspended in the transparent fluid. And I pray; I pray that some higher power will intervene on her behalf and save my daughter from her almost certain end. I pray that the Force will encompass her and repair her bones and mend her gashes. Without help I know she will not make it through the night.
And I am powerless to do anything.
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