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Leia has one son. Her only child. He is tall and strong and she loves him more than anything in the whole galaxy. She loves him more than life itself. More than she thought was even possible. He is named after hope personified, and the Force dances around him like he was made for it, which is partially true. The Force is strong in their family. It is terrifying and exhilarating all at once. He is as much her child as he is a child of the Force.
He could never be just hers, and she knew that all too well.
She sent him off to learn with a heavy heart and a promise that they would see each other often. Hollow promises in the end. She sees him less and less after that, until she never sees him again. It happens so gradually she almost doesn’t notice how much less of him she sees until it’s too late.
Leia’s son - her only child - has turned his back to her and the rest of the galaxy. No amount of love can save him. It takes her a long time to come to terms with it. It is not easy to give up hope. (Part of her never does. She must be a terrible person for thinking that after so much.)
Her family falls apart fairly quickly after that. One by one, until it’s just her left to carry the grief alone. So much hope and happiness gone in the blink of an eye.
He leaves without ever looking back, and if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered. It wouldn’t have changed anything that came to be after.
Leia had always had a complicated family history, but she had hoped it all would be better. She had allowed herself to be happy. It had always been too good to be true. She’d come to realize that fairly quickly.
Maybe if she’d been a better mother…
Leia has one son. She hasn’t seen him since he was a teenager. She had tried to get in contact with him. Any way she knew. Anything. She’d tried everything. All to no avail. It was only until a few years later that she realized how lost of a cause he had become.
Leia has one son, but he isn’t really her son anymore.
Leia has known Poe Dameron his entire life. He was, quite literally, born into the Rebellion. Raised around the alliance’s fiercest and bravest fighters, and on stories of the Empire’s defeat. Born just in time to miss the worst of it, but just in time to grow up in a (fairly) safe galaxy.
In a way he is a child of the Rebellion, but he is also his parents’ child and nothing more at the same time. He never needed to be anything else, but he is anyway.
Poe was not named after hope personified, but he is hope nonetheless. Hope for a free and safe galaxy. Hope for peace and freedom. Hope for the fighting to end. Hope for Shara Bey and Kes Dameron. He is their hope and that’s enough.
Sadly, the galaxy does not stay safe and free for long.
Rebellions are built on hope. That’s what they’ve always said. They’re built on hope, a little bit of wishful thinking, and yearning for a better galaxy. But most importantly, they’re built on good people like Poe Dameron. Poe Dameron who wears his heart on his sleeve and is willing to give it all for the right cause. Poe Dameron who is willing to carry the burden so others don’t. Poe Dameron who won’t let the bad guys win, even if his life depends on it.
Poe is a spectacular pilot, just like his mother. One of the best, she thinks. He is good-hearted and stubborn to a fault. He is kind and selfless and everything his parents were. He’s the best of both of them. He’s the best of all of them. A spitting image of his late mother.
Leia sees so much of his parents in Poe it almost takes her breath away sometimes. Not just their looks, but their strong moral compass, their compassion, their need to do good. No one is surprised when he joins the Resistance. The little boy from Yavin 4 has grown up before her eyes. Headstrong and willing to fight for the cause. She cannot, and will not stop him. She can’t afford to.
He messes up and he makes up for it, over, and over, and over again. He leaves, but he always comes back. He learns (sometimes in ways Leia wishes he didn’t need to) and he grows. And Leia loves him more because of it.
She loves him like a son, even if she shouldn’t. Poe doesn’t need her to. His real mother had loved him enough for a thousand lifetimes before she became one with the Force, but Leia does anyway.
He reminds her of her brother who she didn’t see for years. He is passionate and dedicated to doing the right thing and he’s even more attached to his droid than she ever remembers Luke being. He reminds her of her husband who she scarcely heard from before it was too late. He is an excellent pilot with a confident exterior and a soft heart and sharp wit.
Poe is many people all at once and also just himself.
Leia has never once worried about Poe’s commitment to the Resistance, but rather what his commitment is going to do to him. She sees him give, and give, and give without the expectation of being given anything in return.
If the galaxy had more Poe Damerons laying around there’d be no Empire or First Order, she’s sure of it. Unfortunately there is only one, and Leia is privileged enough to know him.
Poe is a son without a mother, just like she is a mother without a son. He is not hers, but he might as well be at times.
When Poe all but barges into her office she is not surprised. He has a tendency to do that. Coming in without asking, no care for what she might be doing. It has earned him some rather embarrassing encounters and some awkward apologies to both her and whoever she is meeting with throughout his time in the Resistance. Still, she likes to imagine her office is somewhere Poe feels at least somewhat safe.
The First Order takes, and it takes, and it takes. From her, from the Resistance, from Poe. She might as well give something to Poe when the galaxy seems so intent on taking. It’s the least she could do.
She’s lost count of all the reports he’s given, all the hands she’s held, all the hugs she’s given, all the tears shed, all the warm cups of caf drank. Hell, even the hands he’s held and the hugs he’s given in this room. She just knows there’s been many more than she’d have liked it to be.
In an ideal world Leia wouldn’t need to provide that comfort. In an ideal world Leia wouldn’t have to send Poe out on dangerous missions. In an ideal world Poe wouldn’t have to give every piece of himself to the fight just to keep it going.
Leia does not dwell, but sometimes she does.
She never would have sent him to Jakku if she had known what would happen. If she knew what he would do. What he would take from Poe. Still, she knows that’s not true. It’s wishful thinking. She only sent Poe because she had to. He was the best for the job. They all knew that. It wouldn’t have changed anything. They still needed the map and Poe knew that as well as she did.
She has learned a long time ago that certain things just need to get done. Consequences or not.
It had shattered her heart to see him return to broken and defeated. Shipless and droidless. A little less than he had been before. It had destroyed her to hear what her son had done to him. The fact that he was even capable of something like that. The fact that he was willing to do that to Poe. The Poe that he had grown up with, played with, laughed with.
(Deep down she’d known what he was capable of, but it’s different to actually see it for yourself. Makes the deniability harder.)
Sometimes when she looks at Poe she can still imagine him and Ben being small and young again. Tracking mud through the house and playing together for hours on end. She can almost hear their laughter from the other side of the house. All the toys littered about. Model ships and wooden lightsabers.
The house she doesn’t live in anymore. The house she hasn’t lived in in a long time.
This time when Poe comes into her office he’s sporting a wide, toothy grin. He holds his hands behind his back and there’s an almost mischievous glint in his eyes as he comes to stand in front of her. His Force presence is warm and bright and a little bit playful.
“What brings you to my office this time, Dameron?”
He bounces on his feet, childish excitement radiating off him. His droid is nowhere to be seen which is unusual, but not entirely uncommon. She decides to play along with him. Not just because it seems to get farther and farther between each of his smiles the longer this war rages on, but it’s definitely part of it.
“Do I need a reason to spend time with my favorite general?”
Leia rolls her eyes fondly and then gives him a look that tells him to get on with it. Poe walks over to her desk and pulls out his hands from behind his back. In his left hand is a shabby looking bouquet of what appears to be hand picked flowers. She’s seen some of them around base, though they’d looked a bit more lively than these. She supposes it’s the thought that counts.
His right hand holds a small, plain box. It is inconspicuous, but that just makes the contents of the box all the more curious.
“Happy mother’s day, general.”
He places the box on her desk, hands her the flowers. A few leaves fall out of the bouquet as she takes it from his hand, a few of the flowers sag and flop. Leia looks down at the flowers, looks at the little box, at Poe’s beaming face.
Something warm and pleasant and a little bit painful blooms in Leia’s chest. It threatens to bubble over, lodges itself in her throat, stings in her eyes. He must see the look on her face, but he does not mention it, for her sake or not, she doesn’t know. His smile does get gentler though as he sits down in the chair across from her.
He opens the little box, revealing two slices of cake. He presents it like it’s revolutionary, theatrics in full swing. He passes one to Leia. She carefully places the flowers on the desk to take the cake slice. She watches Poe take a large bite out of his slice, cupping his spare hand under to catch any chocolaty crumbs. He struggles to chew with his proud smile plastered on his face.
“Poe,” she says. “Where’d you even get this?”
She knows the Resistance doesn’t have the resources to spare just to make some cake for fun. They know better than to spend their resources on something so frivolous right now. They’re already spread too thin. And Poe wouldn’t ask them to make it just for him, which means he acquired it elsewhere.
He flashes her one of his signature grins that makes her think of Han. “I have my ways,” he tells her. “And I thought maybe you could use some cheering up.”
She takes a bite of her cake slice. It tastes sweet and a little salty and just right. It’s nothing compared to the food she grew up with on Alderaan, but it’s better than a lot of the food she’s had these past few months.
“Cheering up?” she asks, brows raised.
Poe shrugs. “And me, I guess. I figured we could both use some cheering up today.”
Leia thinks of Shara Bey, brave and young, and dead. Leia thinks about a young Poe, eight years old and so, so scared. Leia thinks about a young, eight year old Poe, clinging to his father’s hand.
Leia thinks about a young - eight years old, clinging to his father’s hand - Poe who has to learn to live in a galaxy without his mother. She feels a pang of sympathy for him.
Then she thinks of her son, and all the pain and suffering he has caused the galaxy. All the grief he has caused everyone. The guilt, a heavy weight on her shoulders. The thing keeping her in the fight because she feels like she needs to. That she owes at least that.
She supposes he’s right. On mother’s day too. He didn’t come here just for her sake. A mother without a son and a son without a mother. It is almost poetic.
“Maybe you’re right,” she says.
He smiles at her again, earnest and true.
“I used to pick flowers for my mom when I was…” He pauses. “Before she… Yeah.”
She puts her hand on his, squeezes reassuringly. “She would be so proud of you, Poe. The man you’ve become... You truly are your mother’s son, through and through.”
Poe watches her in stunned silence, eyes wide and a little glossy, mouth slightly open in awe. Leia has never seen Poe look so touched before. She hears him swallow, can see his throat working. He smiles.
He keeps looking at her like she’s hung all the stars in the sky, like she is the reason the sun shines every morning. She can’t handle it at the best of times. She doesn’t deserve to have him look at her like that. With so much trust and love as if her son hasn’t caused destruction all over the galaxy. As if her son hadn’t hurt him. As if she deserves to have anyone look at her like that, let alone him. Kind and selfless Poe who risks it all because it’s the right thing to do, who falls down and keeps getting back up every time.
They finish the cake. Poe talks about the Resistance, Black Squadron, his new friends, their adventures, what he and BB-8 have been up to, how his father is. Anything Poe can think of to fill the time. Leia chimes in with stories from her own childhood. Of Alderaan, her parents, her friends. People who no longer exist, a place that ceased to be many years ago. A childhood that feels so, so long ago now.
(“I think he’s full of shit. BB-8 is as good as they come, best droid in the whole galaxy.”)
Leia shares stories about the Rebellion. Stories from before Poe was born. Before he was even a thought anyone had. When there was so much hope, even after so much had been lost. Stories about his mother, brave and bold, just like him. One of the Rebellion’s best pilots. Full of life and so, so much love.
She likes sharing stories with Poe. Stories of people who fought for the greater good, sharing their stories so they’re not forgotten. Never forgotten. Poe listens with such intensity that she’s sure he couldn’t forget even if he tried.
She likes to think she’s passing on Shara’s memory with Poe. Let him get to know his mother, even though she’s gone - and has been for most of his life now. She wants him to know his mother. Wants him to know what an incredible woman she was, a good mother. A good friend. He deserves it.
They must sit there for hours. Cake slices long gone, lukewarm cups of caf forgotten on the desk. They’ll be cold before either of them remembers them.
Poe laughs at something, true and delighted, and Leia feels all warm and fuzzy. It does not heal the Ben-shaped hole in her heart, the deep heartache that’s made its home in her soul, but it does make her feel a little better. She doesn’t think anything will ever be able to take it away, but Poe is damn good at easing the sorrow she carries so heavily.
It’s the best mother’s day she’s had in years.
“You know, you’re a good mom, Leia,” he tells her. “I know you don’t believe it, but you are.”
“Poe…” she starts.
“No, I’m serious,” he says, “Whatever he’s done, it isn’t your fault. He did that all on his own.”
Oh, how Leia wishes she could believe that as easily as Poe does. There is nothing she wants more in the world than to sit down and do exactly this with her own son. She yearns to have him back with her, to hug and to hold him, to be happy again.
She likes to think he would have turned out a lot like Poe if everything hadn’t gone wrong. She imagines him and Poe, still thick as thieves. She imagines him being a good Jedi, like she always thought he would be - like he should have been. She does not let herself dwell on the past a lot, but sometimes she does.
Poe will never replace Ben, he will never fill that gaping hole in her heart. And Leia will never be Shara Bey, she will never be able to take her place. Leia isn’t stupid. She knows that. But it does not change the fact that he is here right now, with her. He does not fill that gaping hole in her heart, but he has found his own spot and set up a home there. He is not leaving. Not ever. Not if he has a say over it.
Poe is not hers, but he might as well be at times.
Leia feels her eyes welling up with emotion, vision blurring with unshed tears. Her heart aches, yet she does not find it unpleasant at all.
Poe gives her a startled kind of look, eyes wide and concerned. She belatedly realizes that he’s probably never seen her cry. “Leia—” He shoots out of his seat and speedily makes his way around her desk. He kneels down on the floor, in front of the chair, takes her hands in his own. Dark, doe eyes look up at her and Leia can’t stop smiling.
“Now you’ve really done it, Dameron.” She lets out a wet chuckle.
He looks at her with a bit of a bemused smile, worry evaporating just like that. “Done what?”
Leia scoffs, rolls her eyes, and pulls him into her arms. Poe does not protest as she tucks his head against her shoulder, nor does he when she buries her fingers in his curls. He just wraps his arms around her middle, buries his nose in the crook of her neck. He fits like he was always meant to be there, tucked under her chin. Like he belongs there, wrapped in her arms.
“You’re insufferable,” she tells him.
Poe chuckles. The tip of his nose is cold against her skin. His hair tickles her cheek.
“I do my best.”
He holds her a little tighter
What would she do without him, she thinks idly. She would have given up a long time ago if it wasn’t for him, continuing to fuel the flame in her that is hope, standing behind her for every move. It really is people like him who give hope to the galaxy, even during the darkest points.
Her favorite flyboy, her right hand, her protege, her idiot boy who drives her insane at times, but sticks around and never even thinks about leaving her. It’s worth it. The fighting, the pain, the struggle. It’s worth every last bit of it. Just for moments like these.
Poe is a son without a mother and Leia is a mother without a son. The puzzle pieces fit together, although a little jagged. They slot together easily and without either of them really noticing.
Leia has two sons. One’s hers and the other is as much hers as he’ll ever be.
Leia has two sons. One left, but the other one stayed.