[He nods carefully; they're not new words, not even here, but the affirmation helps. It always helps. He gives a little sigh, and pulls away only enough to regard her directly: she deserves this much, though everything.]

Leia is older than I am. [And to think that used to be the strangest part.] I didn't want to believe it, you'd never said anything about--she looks so much like you.

[Can they keep it here? Just pretend the last four months haven't happened? He swallows back the part of him that wants to leave it here. She deserves to know. Whatever she already does, to not say anything would be tantamount to lying, and he's just declared himself against this.]

We know more about the future than we should. Palpatine, the war, us. What we leave behind. [He searches her eyes them for some flash of recognition, some understanding. Even if he doesn't want it. He knows she's aware of the war in more stark and horrifying familiarity than a visit to the ruined Jedi Temple could ever quite instill. But there's something beyond this that fits between his fall and the future their daughter has outlined, and--] I won't let this happen.

[If he has a choice.]