[Leia stumbles when she feels it, a hand flying out to the wall of the corridor to steady her. The answer is a wave of anger crashing over her; standing against the tide of Ben's emotions bearing down on her, she feels smaller than she ever has, almost fragile, a single human in an unfathomably large universe.
She's only glad that it can't hit Han.]
He doesn't want us. [Her hand balls into a fist. That's what it means, doesn't it? Go, he's saying--go, and don't return.] We can't leave him, Han. I can't.
[Please, Kylo. She summons a memory of the Falcon swooping into battle at just the right time, and of all the relief and triumph that comes with it. If he sees it, if he feels any of it, she's not sure. It's impossible for her to tell what she's managing to convey, only that she must have conveyed something.]
no subject
She's only glad that it can't hit Han.]
He doesn't want us. [Her hand balls into a fist. That's what it means, doesn't it? Go, he's saying--go, and don't return.] We can't leave him, Han. I can't.
[Please, Kylo. She summons a memory of the Falcon swooping into battle at just the right time, and of all the relief and triumph that comes with it. If he sees it, if he feels any of it, she's not sure. It's impossible for her to tell what she's managing to convey, only that she must have conveyed something.]