Chapter Text
Three days after Tyan’s Night, Davijaan walked to work in the dark.
Because the sun set so early and rose so late, he hardly ever saw it anymore, except through the viewshield when he was flying. He didn’t mind too much. It really was oddly reminiscent of being back in space; of going about his day under glaring white lights while starlight streamed in through the portholes.
Sometimes he missed the blue. If the closest he could get was being outside, he’d take it.
He usually got to work early and took his time doing the pre-flight checks on Glimmer. He never managed to get there before Mrs. Yang, who had the most meticulous pre-flight checklist he’d ever witnessed, but he was still surprised to find her waist deep in Glimmer’s engine.
“Um, good morning, ma’am,” he said, hanging up his jacket and wincing at the crunch of icy boots on duracrete. “Need any help?”
She glanced up at him and blinked in surprise. “No. Almost done. Just a tune-up. Thought I mentioned, yesterday.”
“No, I don’t believe so.”
“Ah.” She turned back to her work.
Davijaan waited a minute for her to say something else, but her focus was stuck on the guts of the engine and wouldn’t be coming unstuck for some time, so he headed for the office to wait.
He knew enough about engines and hyperdrives to do basic repairs, but he didn’t enjoy it. Mrs. Yang did. Very much. Odds were even if she remembered beforehand to tell him she was planning to fix or adjust something or if he’d come in and start his checks and realize it was different.
He sat in the chair behind the desk, because Mr. Yang wasn’t coming in today and because he’d never sat behind a desk before. It was pretty comfortable. Solid wood with lots of cushions. Good back support. He ought to get changed and ready for work, but who knows how long Mrs. Yang would be. He probably had a good twenty minutes before she came to find him.
The door slid open and he shot to his feet, mortified.
Loren blinked in surprise, and then snorted, dumping her bag and coat on the bench against the wall and sitting primly in one of the chairs across from him. “Good morning, Odd Ball. Comfortable?”
He slumped back down and crossed his arms over his chest. “I am, actually. How come all the chairs in the office aren’t like this?”
“Pa strained his back badly a few years ago and now he needs the extra support.” She smirked. “If he finds you stealing his chair enough, maybe he’ll buy you one.”
“Eh, why bother?” He abandoned Mr. Yang’s entirely too comfortable chair and sat down in the free chair next to her with a contented sigh. “I like this seat much better,” he grinned, and dared to reach out and tuck a strand of blue hair behind her ear.
She flushed and rolled her eyes. His heart skipped a beat.
Before he could open his mouth and press his advantage, she cleared her throat and sat up straight. He swiftly removed his hand in case she was about to tell him to leave her the fuck alone.
“So. Odd Ball.”
“Yes, Loren?”
“I wanted to tell you first, before everything gets underway, but. I’m going to be moving, finally.”
He stared at her, frozen, for a solid three seconds before he realized she was waiting for a response. “Oh? Good.” It was. It was very good. She’d been wanting— needing— to move away again since she’d moved back. “Where?”
“Just to Kyurem.” Her mouth twisted in an amused grimace. “I think I’m done with big city living for the time being. An apartment in Fenna’s building is going to be available next month, and I’ve applied to the town council to get the new lease. If everything goes well, I should be able to move before the snow melts.”
He nodded slowly and mustered a smile. A real smile. “I’m happy for you. Do you… does this mean you got the job?”
She’d been applying for everything writing related in a thousand mile radius, and had gotten several interviews and even a few job offers, but nothing that was as advertised when she applied. She’d come home from the last interview with Kyurem Daily Journal angry and proclaiming that she was a writer not an intern, thank you very much, and that’d been the last he’d heard.
“Nope.” Her nostrils flared. “There was a reason I started my career on Coruscant and not small-town Pantora. But they did accept the article I submitted!”
“Was that the one I read?”
“No, it’s a new one. You can read it if you want.” When he nodded she jumped out of her seat and went to dig around in her bag for her datapad. “It’s about immigration patterns on Pantora before and after the war.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“There’s been an influx in the last six months, mostly in the marsh cities. I called down to the Lombre city offices and got some excellent interviews from the staff who process immigration applications. Just sent it!” She shoved the datapad back in her bag and came skipping back over. She seemed extra energetic this morning. Excited to finally have a plan in motion, probably.
“You don’t have to read it now, or ever, but it’s something you might be interested in.”
“Definitely interested. Sounds like me and Cody were on to something.”
She’d kept writing while she was job hunting, trying to finish an article a month in between all her other obligations. To keep her skills sharp, she’d said, but he thought she just enjoyed the process of researching a question and putting her thoughts in order on the answer. She’d let him read most of them when they were finished, and he didn’t know anything about writing or news articles but he was positive these were excellent quality. He’d liked the one about the process of creating a hiking trail and their historical importance to mountain communities especially.
A few months ago, out of curiosity, he’d looked up her CorNN articles. They were obviously well written, and it was interesting to read about the aftermath of a battle from a civilian perspective. But they’d made him uncomfortable for some reason, so he'd stopped. Maybe it was just that he’d felt he was reading them behind her back.
“See the pattern? None of the local news offices will let me get past an interview, but they’ll pay for an article or two.” She sat back down cross legged, somehow balancing on the chair with her hands on her knees, and offered him a wry smile. “I think having CorNN on my resume might be doing more harm than good.”
“Weren’t they a big deal on Coruscant?”
“They were. Not so much, in the last year. Anyway.” She shrugged, and then turned her determined gaze on him. “I’ve decided to focus on freelancing for a few months. Get myself established as an independent.”
He blinked. It took him a minute to think through all of the implications of that. Of freelancing. “That sounds… kind of terrifying.”
“What, working for myself?”
“Yes. Just going out and— and doing stuff? Without any kind of framework, or reference point.”
“Oh there are several rather famous— or maybe infamous— freelance reporters whose examples I can learn from. It’s not exactly uncommon in the field.”
He quashed a nervous laugh and shook his head. “That’s so weird.”
She leaned forward, an expectant eyebrow raised. “Didn’t you do the same thing? Move all the way out here with no plan?”
“Sort of? I wasn’t thinking about work. I just—” needed to get away “— wanted a change of scenery.”
“Well.” She sat back and tilted her head to the side, considering. “I want a change of scenery. I’m tired of working in other people’s offices.”
And if that was a good enough reason for her, then it was probably a good enough reason for anyone. What did he know about it anyway? “I hope it goes well. Freelancing.”
“Thank you.” She grinned, sharp and bright and satisfied. “Me too.”
“Odd Ball?”
He twitched and then craned his neck over the back of the chair to see Mrs. Yang standing in the open doorway, glancing between the two of them. Loren waved. When Mrs. Yang focused back on him, she was smiling faintly. “Glimmer’s ready.”
He shot to his feet. “On my way, ma’am. Thank you.”
Without a word Loren stood and followed him out, pausing briefly to hug her mother. He changed into his flightsuit and when he closed his locker she was standing next to Glimmer with his work datapad. She handed it over and he found his checklists. Starting with the exterior, they made their way around the ship in silence, checking landing gear and the seals around external hatches and various meter readouts.
She held the datapad as he checked the bolts on one of the stabilizers, and quietly said, “I wanted to ask you, or to ask you first, but… Cody. Marshal Commander Cody. I still have the article.”
He looked up, shocked.
Before he could say anything she continued, speaking fast but firm. “I’d like to revise it and submit it. Locally, but also to some galactic publications. He was an important public figure in the war and somebody should write about him. I’m just not sure if that somebody should be me. I know him. Rather well, at this point. If I revise the article I’d want to do an interview and I’d want to include something of his life now, and I’m not sure if— I don’t want to ask, and accidentally—”
“Send him spiraling?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. Rubbed a hand across his face. Stood. “You might,” he said, taking the datapad and making a note of the state of that stabilizer. “He’s kind of, shut down that part of himself?” He handed the datapad back and moved on to the rear cargo doors.
“He was this brilliant tactician, you know. Planned his battles down to the second. He could tell you exactly where everyone from the general to the shiniest trooper needed to be and when. Winning the war was all about timing, for him. Of course,” he said, noting how the hold’s steady internal air pressure readouts from the night before lined up with the hangar’s own fluctuating air pressure. “You can’t plan for everything.” Like the Chancellor being a traitor. “But he got damn close. I don’t know how to remind him of who he used to be without… without…”
“... Sending him spiraling. I see.” She peered over his shoulder and copied down the numbers. “Well in that case, the project is shelved. Maybe someday.”
“Maybe someday,” he agreed. She handed over the datapad and he found his list for internal checks. They made their way to the boarding hatch. He lowered the gangplank, but paused on the first step.
“It’s going to be a year, this spring.”
She regarded him evenly. “It is.”
He turned away and marched inside the ship.
They worked their way from the hold to the circuitry room to the engine room to the cockpit. He sat in the pilot’s seat with the datapad balanced on one leg and checked the oxygen filter readouts and the fuel level and the pressure controls, Loren leaning against the back of the chair. There were never any surprises, but he’d never feel comfortable flying a ship he didn’t thoroughly inspect beforehand.
During the war inspections were carried out right after landing, no matter what conditions you’d just been flying in or how long you’d been in space, because you never knew when you’d have to take off again at a moment’s notice. Best to put your ship to bed in good shape, just in case. The slow pace of morning inspections was something to be savored.
“Someday, I’d like to write about you.”
He froze, hand on the yoke. “Me?”
“Yes, you. About some of your experiences in the war, and how you got to where you are now.”
“What’s there to write about?” His grip tightened. “I didn’t do anything particularly impressive then, and I’m not doing anything particularly impressive now.”
She huffed a laugh. “I think our definitions of impressive are very different. But it’s not so much about the particulars as it’s…”
She stayed leaning against his chair, arms crossed against the back of his neck. He kept himself facing forward, both wanting to listen and wanting to tell her to leave. The part that wanted to listen won out.
“During the war, all I wrote about was the destruction. About the way it obliterated landscapes and cities and lives. When I interviewed refugees they all had the same story. I was safe and I was happy, or at least things weren’t too bad, and then war happened to me. But now there’s all these rebuilding efforts— on Ryloth and Christophsis and Cato Neimoidia. People are putting their lives back together. And it’s… It’s important to me to tell both sides of it, you know? The war happened, and it was horrible. And that’s a story that matters, but it’s only half the story.”
Her hand drifted down to cup his cheek, and he held himself utterly still.
“The war happened, and it was horrible, and now it’s over. And now we have a chance to rebuild. You’re a part of that. All of your siblings, but also you; Odd Ball. You fought in the war, and it was horrible. But you won it. And now you’re rebuilding. And it matters that the people whose lives were most impacted by the destruction have a voice in the stories of the reconstruction.”
He shook his head slowly, trying not to dislodge her hand. “I didn’t just fight in the war. War… was my whole life. There’s nothing to— to reconstruct. I’m… I don’t know what I’m doing.”
She stroked a thumb over his cheekbone. “Where did you learn to fly?’
“Kamino.” He swallowed. “Flight sims on Kamino.”
“You’re still flying. The war is over and you’re still flying.”
“Maybe that’s just the only thing I know how to do.”
“Maybe.” Gently, so he could shake her off if he wanted, she hooked a finger under his chin and tipped his head back, leaning forward so she could gaze down at his face. “Or maybe you’re doing the same thing I am— taking the pieces of a brief and disastrous career and making something of them. I just hope I can make something good.”
***
Loren left early, before he docked for the night. He did the post-flight checks on his own, and missed her steady presence.
He walked home with his head down, eyes focused on his feet on the road, glancing up every few minutes to the stars.
Usually he hated being alone in the quiet. But it was never really quiet in the mountains, just. Still. Peaceful. If you listened, you could hear the wind hiss over the snow, or pine branches creak under its weight. The scream of an owl or the howl of a wolf.
He made good time and sped up as his feet found the packed-down path to the steps. Movement and winter gear only kept him so warm, and he was ready to get inside and eat and curl up under a blanket. Loren complained about how hot he and Cody kept their house but after a lifetime of chilly hallways they wanted to be comfortable.
Ignoring the railing, he took the first three almost at a run, and then his icy left boot came down on the icy fourth step, and he slipped.
He tried to catch himself, but his foot slid across the tread and through the gap in the soffits, and his momentum carried him forward to land heavily on his right knee on the fifth step, his left shin colliding with the blunt edge of the board.
He heard the crunch and snap a split second before white hot pain shot from his ankle to his hip.
“Kote!” he screamed, in pure pain and panic, and then bit his tongue and forced himself to breathe. The door slammed open. The wood vibrated with heavy footsteps on the porch.
“Davijaan? What happened?!”
“Cody,” he said, low and urgent, clinging to the railing and the step and holding himself as still as he could. “Cody. Cody I did something to my leg. I think— I might have broken it.”
Cody picked his way down to where Davijaan was contorted over the steps and picked him up under the arms, easing him up and away and then over his shoulder, one hand on the injured leg to hold it steady. Davijaan grit his teeth and breathed.
He was set down in the snow, his leg stretched out not quite straight in front of him, and Cody felt down the length and hissed when he found the spot on his shin Davijaan was trying very hard to ignore.
“It's broken,” Cody confirmed, grim. “I can splint it, but I don't have anything for a cast. Where do I take you? Is the medcenter open? Do we need to wait till morning? If I can get supplies—”
“Loren.” Davijaan dug around in his pocket and shoved his comm into Cody's hand. “Ask Loren.”
She answered almost immediately. “Odd Ball? What—”
“It's Cody. Odd Ball broke his leg. Where do I take him?”
There was a half second of silence as she took in both his words and his tone. “The clinic. There's always someone at the desk. I'll comm ahead and meet you there.”
She rattled off an address and Cody ended the call with a grunt of acknowledgement.
***
He'd broken his arm during a sim when he was five. He remembered the specific burning pain of it very well. His fingers had been different— smaller and more contained. And he’d known that was coming. He’d had a chance to brace himself. His arm, and now his leg, had been sudden and shocking and maddening.
His leg hastily splinted with the contents of an old medpack, Davijaan clung to Cody as he drove them into the village. When they arrived at the clinic the lights were on and a uniformed nurse was already opening the door for them. Cody looped Davijaan’s arm over his shoulder and helped him limp inside, and then followed the nurse past the reception area and down a short green hall to a small blue room.
A stout older woman in a plain wrinkled tunic looked up from pulling a sheet over a cot. “Set him down here,” she patted the cot, and Cody and the nurse moved to obey. “Right here, get his leg laid out straight, that’s it.”
When Davijaan was settled to her satisfaction she started opening cupboards and laying out instruments and supplies. “I’m all set, Narishka.” The nurse nodded and ducked out of the room.
“Now, it’s Odd Ball whose leg I’m attending?” Finished with the cupboards, she turned her attention to Davijaan.
“Yes ma’am. And I’m Cody.”
“Hm. Been wondering when I'd see one if you in here.” She carefully and confidently removed his boot and bootliner and rolled his pant leg up past his knee, frowning at the swollen mess she found underneath. “Though I'd hoped it’d be for a physical and not an injury. I’m Dr. Lin.” She gave them a brief nod of greeting that was more a flick of her chin. “Good to meet you boys.”
“Pleasure’s ours, ma’am,” said Cody, stilted and tense but returning the nod. He’d stationed himself on the other side of the cot and settled into parade rest, and if Davijaan knew for sure he’d be able to speak without his voice breaking he’d tell him to sit down.
“Now, it’s been years since I’ve treated a Human but I did some review and reading when you moved here, so we should be all set. Speaking of, how would I go about getting your medical histories?”
“No idea.”
She glanced up sharply at Cody’s cold tone. “Hm. In that case, any past surgeries? Previously broken bones? Allergies or unusual reactions to medications? Conditions such as hypotension or arthritis? Episodes of anxiety or depression?”
“He… I…” Cody glanced down at Davijaan, eyes wide and just starting to go blank the way they always did in medbays.
“Oh, goddess’ sake.” Dr. Lin bustled around the cot and herded Cody over to the low bench against the wall. “Young man, sit down.”
Cody sat.
She turned to Davijaan and planted her hands on her hips. “One of you needs to tell me if you’re allergic to anything before I give you pain medication.”
Davijaan cleared his throat and forced himself to sit up straight. “Not allergic to anything.” His voice came out hoarse, and he winced. “Regular dose for a Human won’t work though. I don’t know what the right dose is. Had— broke my arm as a cadet and four of my fingers last year. Had my— had brain surgery… almost a year ago? And.” He held out his left wrist. “Still have my ident chip. Don’t know if that matters, since they didn’t bother to take them out. Don’t know anything about the rest. Sorry.”
Dr. Lin blinked. “Well.” She looked from Davijaan to Cody and back to Davijaan. “Well. Thank you. You relax, I’m going to give you a dose and a smidge of something in your leg.”
Davijaan lay back on the cot and tried to be still. It didn’t even hurt that badly anymore, now that it wasn’t in an awkward position or being jostled around. The pain had settled into a dull throb from his ankle to his thigh. He didn’t feel the needle when she injected whatever medication she’d settled on, though he craned his neck to keep a close eye on her hands.
Hurried footsteps in the hall, and then Loren burst into the room, shawl fluttering and bag rattling. When she pushed her hood back her face was flushed and her hair a loose tangled mess. He wanted to run his fingers through it.
“Odd Ball! Sorry I wasn’t here to meet you, I was—”
“Too many people,” Dr. Lin interrupted.
“But—”
“Sit down or wait outside.”
Loren sat next to Cody. She turned to say something, and froze. “Cody?”
He twitched. “Hey,” he forced out. “Thanks. For the directions.”
She looked to Davijaan, panicked. He swallowed down his frustration. “Could you grab his arm? Just, squeeze it really hard.”
Quickly, she took one of Cody’s wrists in her hands. “Like this?”
He shied away from her grip. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to be here.” Davijaan tried to sit up and meet Cody’s eyes. “You can go—”
“No.”
“Quiet, please.”
The room fell silent.
“Hm.” Dr. Lin frowned at her scanner, and at his leg, and then looked up to frown at him. “It’s a clean break. I’ll set it, cast it, run a bone-knitter over it, and that will be that. Can you still feel it?”
Yes. “No.”
“Hm. Would you like me to get Narishka to help you brace yourself?”
“I can hold still. I know how to hold still, you don’t have to—”
“That is not what I asked.” She took off her old gloves and put on a new pair, eyeing him up and down with a furrowed brow. “Loren? Come help him sit up.”
Loren hesitated, and then returned Cody’s wrist to him and hurried to the cot.
When he'd got his arm set it had just been him and a medroid in a cold quiet room. With his fingers Yikes had talked casually about nothing the whole time, and he’d had Cody with him, even if Cody had been sitting at the far end of his cot trying not to watch but unable to look away.
Loren helped him upright and then slid on to the cot behind him, sitting sideways and wrapping one arm around his waist. He clamped on to her wrist and reached back, fumbling, and until she took his free hand. He breathed slowly and kept his eyes on Dr. Lin’s hands and tried not to think.
He used to be jealous of Cody’s ability to do that. Stop thinking completely, and just go away inside his head. Davijaan’d had to work hard to not think about things. But eventually he’d realized he’d much rather be awake for whatever the Kaminoans did than wake up later with something changed.
Loren’s grip was firm but not bruising. Her breath stuttered in his ear and he wondered distantly if she was going to cry.
When the cast was drying and Dr. Lin was reaching for the bone-knitter he let himself slump against her.
“Don’t walk on it for a week and a half. This won’t heal it fully, just get the process started. You're going to schedule appointments with Narishka for a week from now to check your cast, a tenday from then to get it removed, and within a month of that you both ought to have a full physical.” She glanced up at him, and he thought maybe she wasn’t frowning in annoyance so much as concern. “You hear me?”
“I hear you. Ma’am.”
“Good.” She looked over his shoulder at Loren. “They’re going home with you?”
“Yes.” She ran a thumb over his wrist. “If that's ok?”
“You don’t have to, we can—”
“You can’t drive and your brother shouldn't. And in case of complications you should be monitored overnight. You're going home with Loren.”
Davijaan could argue, but he was tired and in pain and couldn’t think of a good reason to.
“Alright.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Good.”
***
Apparently the reason Loren hadn’t met them at the clinic was because she’d been busy telling her whole entire family what had happened.
Mr. Yang was waiting for them at the door, and took Davijaan’s weight from his daughter easily. He grit his teeth and let Mr. Yang help him hop down the stairs to the bedrooms.
“The twins are at Maraso’s for the night; the sheets are changed and there’s spare clothes in the cupboard. If you’d like something to eat I can bring down some soup.”
“We’re fine,” said Cody, voice still a bit flat but eyes clear. “We’ll probably go straight to bed.”
“Good, good. You’ve had a lot of excitement. Get some rest. We’ll see you both at breakfast!” With a nod he transferred Davijaan’s arm to Cody, and disappeared back up the stairs. Loren gave them both a quick hug before she followed, and Davijaan whispered a quiet thank you into her hair.
The walls of the twin’s room were covered in faded posters and poorly made hangings and quite a bit of dust. Davijaan knew Bereth and Evereth mostly lived at the quarry barracks, so maybe they just never got a chance to clean properly. At least there was nothing on the floor.
There were two beds. Cody deposited Davijaan on the one to the left of the door, and then hesitated.
He sat on the one to the right, and began to undo his boots.
Davijaan opened his mouth, and closed it. “What— what are you doing?”
“Don't want to kick your cast in the middle of the night.”
“I'd be fine.”
“I think I'd rather…”
“Alright.” He swallowed. “Alright.”
He got his single boot and his jacket off, and then managed to maneuver under the blankets. He was hungry and also nauseous, and he stank of sweat, and his whole body ached. He didn’t want to move. If he could just lay still for a few hours— not even sleep just lay there— maybe he’d want to do something about one or all of those problems.
He sighed. Shifted around trying to get comfortable. Cody turned out the light, and he heard the blankets rustle across the room as he got himself situated. He sighed again. “How come it’s only my leg that’s broken, but all of me hurts?”
“Don’t know.” He could picture the way Cody’s eyes would narrow in contemplation. “You bruised both your legs pretty badly, maybe that’s part of it.”
“Maybe.”
He stared up into the dark and tried to remember what had been on the poster over the head of the bed. He thought it might have been a building exploding. The mental image abruptly made him snicker. “This is so dumb.”
“What?”
“Cody.”
“I’m right here.”
“I slipped on the steps.”
“... Yes?”
“I slipped on the steps and broke my leg. Cody, I slipped on ice.”
Cody snorted. “You did in fact slip on ice.”
“No, you don’t get it. I slipped on ice, and broke my leg. What the fuck. This is the dumbest fucking injury I have ever— in my whole life— ice, Cody! Ice!”
Cody started laughing quietly, trying to muffle the noise in his pillow. Davijaan didn’t care anymore. “I walk up and down those damn steps every damn day! And today! Of all days! I slipped on ice!”
“I can’t believe—” Cody gasped, trying to control his breathing. “I can’t believe— you broke your leg walking home from work! Not even walking home, you were home! You were five feet from the front door!”
“I was five feet from the front door!”
Davijaan burst into hysterical giggles and slapped a hand over his mouth.
He and Cody laughed and laughed, trying to keep the noise down, until they were loose limbed and content, and then they slept.