Chapter Text
“It’s sort of working. It doesn’t hurt as bad.”
“But…”
“If you’re so concerned, I can just take another one!”
“But what happens if it’s too much?” Cody insisted, re-reading the label on the little green bottle of pills for the fifth time.
Davijaan threw his head back against the pillow and heaved a sigh, because unfortunately neither of them knew the answer, and he didn’t actually hurt bad enough to want to experiment.
Dr. Lin had prescribed some kind of medication he couldn’t pronounce to help with pain and inflammation, and she’d told them to stick with just a smidge higher than a regular Human dose for now until she could run some tests. Davijaan had wanted to tell her that wasn’t necessary, but he’d also wanted to stay on her good side. It always paid to be on the medic’s good side. “Would Yikes know?”
“I don’t know. Is it even the same kind of medication he used to work with?”
“Ask him.”
“I don’t have his—”
“Would Gregor?”
“Maybe.”
“Ask Gregor.”
“Fine. I’ll do that.” Cody turned to leave, and hesitated. “I don’t know how long it will take. Are you…?”
Davijaan crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not like I have anything to do other than sit here and be miserable.”
When he’d tried to ask Mr. Yang about work at breakfast yesterday morning, he’d been informed that he was on sick leave for the next four weeks, and shouldn’t worry about a thing. He’d insisted that his leg would be back to normal in a tenday. Mr. Yang had shaken his head and gone on about taking the proper time to rest and recover, and listening to the doctor’s orders, and maybe asking the Feng’s boy to cover some of his shifts.
At the mention of Aron, Davijaan had given up. They could all do whatever they wanted. He didn’t care anymore.
Cody scowled and put the bottle back on the dresser. “Yell if you need anything,” he said, and stalked out of the bedroom.
The silence settled heavy over Davijaan. He wished there was a window.
They’d spent most of yesterday morning at the Yang’s, just talking quietly in the twin’s room while everyone else was at work. Bereth had peeked in once to ask if they needed anything.
Just before lunch Cody had walked down to the clinic and collected their speeder, and they’d gone home. They’re been a pile of slimy half cut vegetables on the counter from the night before that Cody’d washed and cleaned and returned to the conservator, and then they’d both eaten some jerky and stale bread, and gone back to bed.
Cody had slept on the couch. He’d said he didn’t want to jostle Davijaan’s cast, but Davijaan didn’t remember that being an issue when they were five.
It might be an issue now, if he was honest. He’d woken up an hour ago with his leg tangled painfully in the blanket. Now he was lying on top of the freshly made bed with a pillow under his left leg; swollen from toes to knee, the skin stretched tight over bruised flesh. The pressure of the cast was leaden. The medication took the edge off, but it still burned.
There was a stack of flimsi books, a datapad, and deck of cards on the floor next to the bed. Cody’s books. Davijaan’d never liked to read. He’d rather spend his time with real people than fake people, thank you very much. The datapad would make his headache worse. Cards were pointless without another player.
He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling and wondered if asking Cody to come back down and sit with him was really something he needed.
His mind drifted from Cody to the other person he’d like to have sitting with him, and then to their last conversation.
He’d always thought of building as making a physical thing. A ship or a set of armor or a blaster. But she’d said people were putting their lives back together. Maybe she’d meant living required a plan and skill and effort. Some serious thought put into it.
He draped his arm over his eyes to block out the lamp light and wished he was any good at making things.
***
He must have fallen asleep again, because he woke up to Cody’s hand on his shoulder.
“Find Yikes?” he mumbled, blinking.
“I got his comm from Gregor, but he hasn’t responded to my message yet. Loren is here to see you.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want me to help you up the stairs, or tell her to come back later?”
Davijaan thought about it. “You can send her down here.”
Cody raised an eyebrow, but made his way out the door without comment.
Davijaan wanted to sit up and untangle his hair, but he also didn’t want to move. Oh well. She’d seen him worse.
He did try to get his hair out of his eyes. That was more or less a losing battle. When he heard footsteps on the stairs he gave up.
Loren hesitated in the doorway, one hand on the frame, gold eyes glinting in the lamplight. Her hair was down around her shoulders. She must have left her shawl upstairs, but she still had her bag.
“Hey.” He waved and tried to smile, very aware of how pathetic he looked and trusting she wasn’t just going to stand there and stare at him.
Her lip twitched in what was hopefully amusement, and she set her bag just inside the door. “Hello.” She inched a bit further into the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. For the most part.”
She came to stand at the side of the bed. “May I…”
He patted the spot next to him and she sat. Gingerly at first, and then she lay on her side, propping herself up on an elbow, careful to keep her socked feet away from his legs. He started to ask what the occasion was and then her cool hand was brushing his hair back, and he sighed, eyes fluttering closed.
She hummed; a short pleased sound he was sure he’d heard before. “Cody said you’d appreciate this.”
“Bastard.”
“I thought he was teasing, but he said…” Her hand stilled momentarily, and then she scratched along his hairline. “He said you asked for me when you got your broken fingers set?”
Davijaan went rigid, eyes snapping open. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Oh, don’t do that. I wouldn't be able to write my article!”
“He can live until it’s published, and not a second longer.”
She tipped her head back and laughed, and Davijaan relaxed. When she met his eyes again she seemed sad, her falling hair casting shadows across her jaw. “I’m sorry I didn’t say a proper goodbye.”
“Eh. I was pretty out of it. I wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Still. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, and smiled up at her. “Turns out we didn’t need a goodbye, so I’m not complaining.”
She smiled back, small and still a little sad, and then pulled her hand away and lay down properly, curling around him with one arm across his chest. “I’m glad you’re ok.”
“Me too,” he said, quietly, to himself, and tentatively traced the back of her hand. “This brings back happy memories,” he said, tone light and teasing.
She snorted and poked his ribs. “That’s not funny.”
“Not trying to be funny.” He attempted to keep his focus on the ceiling, on the blankets; but found himself leaning into the press of her all along his side. “It really was… nice, to have you there. Despite everything.”
“I was pretty useless.”
“But you were there.”
“I suppose.” Gently, she turned her hand over so he could hold it. “I think that went both ways. I felt so bad that you’d been captured, but I was so relieved to have someone to talk to. To have someone who understood what was happening.”
“I…” He flushed, remembering his first impressions and resolutions in the new context of their friendship. “Honestly, I was more annoyed than anything else. I thought I was going to have to do damage control. Make sure the poor civilian wasn’t going to crack under the pressure.”
“Well,” she said, chagrined. “You weren't wrong.”
“In some ways, but. I thought I was going to die, on Umbara. And having someone— having you— with me, facing it all with me, made it easier.”
“... Oh.”
Shifting a bit— not to get closer, just to get comfortable— he cleared his throat, and carefully said, “I’ve been thinking, about that stuff you said, about rebuilding. And, I— I really don’t know what I’m doing. I was supposed to die. We were all supposed to die. And then we didn’t. And it feels… Odd. Like nothing matters anymore.”
He thought of Fox, and Cody, and wondered if going through the motions of living out of habit was really any better than refusing to be a part of something pointless.
“I do things because— because what else is there to do, except fill time before I die?”
“You’re not going to die.”
“Sure about that?”
Her arm tightened around his chest. “You’re not going to die any time soon.”
“It’s not like I want to, I’m just… expecting to. Waiting to. Like it’s going to happen any day now, and then it never does. We got back from the clinic and I felt— surprised, I guess. That I keep getting hurt but not killed.”
“Odd Ball, I…” She pulled away and sat up, kneeling beside him. She studied him, mouth a thin line and brow creased in concern. “Have you talked to anybody about this? Maybe Cody?”
He blinked. “No? We don’t usually, uh, need to talk about this sort of thing. Or maybe clones don’t. We all grow up waiting for the same things.” His eyes slid off her face and back to the ceiling. She was still holding his hand. He wished she’d lie down again, so he didn’t have to face her. He opened his mouth. Closed it.
“One of our batchmates died when we were ca–kids," he said, even and deliberate. "Died in his sleep. He’d hit his head, and— anyway. He was in with Cody. Sharing a pod. When Cody woke up, he started screaming.” He'd been terrified. Alone in his pod and so scared he couldn't move, couldn't breath. He'd lain there for what felt like hours, waiting.
He didn’t know why he was telling her this. Maybe because he’d never told anybody.
“When the screaming stopped, when I opened my pod, an alert had gone off somewhere and some long-necks had come, and they were pulling Tapper out of Cody’s arms.”
When he dared to look at her, Loren’s eyes had gone wide and glassy, her grip on his hand bruising. “And you saw?” she asked, voice hoarse. He hoped she wasn’t going to cry.
“I saw.” He smiled. “First corpse, you know? Firsts are always special.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “Stop that,” she said, sharp.
“Sorry.” The smile dropped, and he tried to pull his hand away but her grip was too tight. “I can stop talking about this. This probably isn’t something you want to— I should have asked, if—”
“It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m…” She abruptly released his hand; wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. “Thank you. For giving me that memory. I’m sorry you had to— to go through that.”
“Eh.” He shrugged, feeling awkward and unsure but also achingly relieved. “Everybody lost a few batchmates. We’d lost one before. But it was different, with Tapper. I guess, seeing him, I understood that would be me, in a few years. Understood, death happens right in your face. And it’s bloody, and there’s screaming.”
Loren wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth, jaw tight and hands curled into fists. He wanted to sit up and— something. Hug her, hold her, tell her it didn’t matter. It had happened years ago. He’d seen so many deaths since then, what was one more cadet?
He lay still, and waited.
Finally, she straightened. Took a deep breath, and let it out slow.
“My grandma died in her sleep,” she said, voice even but rough, gaze distant. “One night she went to bed next to my grandpa, like always, and didn’t wake up in the morning. We all miss her. I miss her. But, her death was peaceful.”
She looked down at him, and her eyes were shining, determined. “I don’t know everything that’s going to happen over the course of your life, but you are not going to die in violence and blood,” she said, firm; a vow or a promise. “You will die at home, surrounded by people who love you, and nobody will be screaming.”
He swallowed, looked away. “Sure about that?”
“The war is over, and you’re alive. And you’re going to keep right on living until your body’s had enough of the sun. You hear me?”
“I…”
“Odd Ball.” She leaned forward and took his head in her hands and forced him to face her, palms cold and bracing like mountain wind. “Do you hear me?”
“... I hear you.”
All the tension drained out of her body at once, and she slumped forward to lay across his chest, burying her face in his neck. Cautiously, he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her. Something in him settled.
“I still don’t know what to do with all this time.”
Her breath tickled his neck. “I thought you said you came to Pantora to figure that out.”
“Sort of? I wasn’t thinking about building.” Hoping he wasn’t crossing a line, he splayed one hand over the small of her back and started stroking up and down her spine. “Mostly I wanted to find a place to just be, until… I don’t know.” His hand slowed. “Living isn’t something I ever let myself think about. It makes more sense, the way you said it. The idea that you actually have to put some thought into it. But the thing is, flying is… important to me. But it’s not…”
“The most important?”
“I don’t know.”
She propped herself up on her elbows so she could look at him again. Her nose was inches from his and he focused very hard on not looking at her lips. “I think all that matters about living is that you enjoy it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What happened to wanting your work to matter?”
“If you enjoy it, then it matters to you, doesn’t it?”
“I guess.”
“Work and living are separate things, sort of. I enjoy my life. Even if I never wrote again I would still find things to enjoy. But the reason I enjoy my work is because I can see it having an impact on other people’s lives.”
He thought about the villages scattered all through the sister mountains and the faces of the villagers as they helped him unload cargo, and he thought he understood what she meant.
A small smile spread across her face, and with a contented hum she settled back against his chest.
They lay like that for a long time, her breath ghosting over his neck and his hand pressed to the center of her back. She smelled like stone and snow and sweat. He was in danger of falling asleep again, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this.
He was fighting the urge to yawn when her comm went off inside her bag. She heaved an annoyed sigh and slowly extracted herself from his arms. Instead of taking her comm out she grabbed the whole bag and came back to sit on the side of the bed. In the stark blue glow her face was vivid and drawn.
“Pa wants to know if he ought to bring us all lunch,” she said, dry. “I suppose I’d better tell him I’m on my way home before Cody’s clean kitchen is invaded. Unless you’d rather—”
“No, no.” He tried to recreate the Jedi handwave of nonchalance. “You go. Cody and I will sort ourselves out.”
“If you’re sure.” She stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. Something about the movement brought to mind holstering a blaster. “I’ll probably drop by tomorrow after work. I can bring something with me then?”
“I’m not opposed.”
She smiled, and leaned over the bed to brush his hair back once more. “It was really good to see you. Goodbye, for now.”
As she turned to leave he levered himself up and caught her wrist. She glanced back over her shoulder, puzzled. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed hard. “I think you should tell your family about Umbara.”
She stiffened, face suddenly blank. “I don’t want to.”
“But you should.”
She looked away.
Releasing her wrist, he sat up properly and winced as the movement dragged his leg off the pillow. “It’s not good to— to face that kind of thing alone. And you’ll always have me, but. The more people the better. At least tell your parents. The more people who know, and maybe understand, the more it doesn’t feel like something to be ashamed of. And it’s not. You didn’t crack under the pressure.”
He’d never had to tell anybody things about himself, because his siblings and friends had always been with him. They’d seen, and they’d known. They’d experienced everything together. But he was starting to understand the way these things could fester, if they weren’t spoken aloud.
She stood there for a moment longer, and then she turned and cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered, and took a step back.
Before she could walk away he caught her wrist and kissed her palm.
He looked up to find her gaping at him, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Before he could find something to say she tugged her hand away and left.
***
Davijaan maneuvered himself to sit up against the headboard and by the time Cody came back down he’d spent a solid hour reviewing everything he could have, would have, or should have said before Loren left. If she’d just waited two seconds, maybe he’d have been able to choke something about— about—
“Told Yikes what the medication was,” Cody announced, leaning against the doorframe. “He said a double dose would be fine, just probably make you pass out. He said to try a dose and a half first.”
“Hmph.”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing. Give me the damn bottle.”
Cody did not give him the damn bottle. Cody checked the time and said it was early but they could probably risk it, and then gave him a whole pill and the larger half of a broken pill. Davijaan swallowed them and then tried to get his legs over the side of the bed.
“Hey!” Cody scrambled to stop him. “That’s going to take a minute to work, idiot.”
“I want to go outside.”
Cody huffed, but carried him up the stairs. There were covered dishes he did not recognize on the table.
“Did you go somewhere while I was asleep?”
“What?” Cody glanced up from where he was doing the buckles on Davijaan's single boot, and followed his gaze to the table. “Oh. No, Mx. Calen brought that over? Some of it. The blue bowl. Has some kind of sweet soup in it. Loren brought dumplings. Found the plate of cookies on the porch.”
“... Oh.” He was still trying to puzzle out why people were suddenly bringing them food, and if it had something to do with him breaking a leg then what exactly was the connection, as he shrugged on his jacket and limped out the door.
The cold wind on his face made it easier to breathe. It had snowed again last night; covered over all the muddy scuffs from his fall in white. He tipped his head back and gazed at the curve of the pale blue sky and wondered how he’d managed to live his whole life without this.
“Sorry.” He leaned against Cody and the porch railing, and didn’t take his eyes off the sky. “Wasn’t annoyed at you.”
“Uhuh.” Cody brought his arm up around Davijaan’s ribs to brace him better. “Did Loren do something? She seemed upset when she left.”
Of course she did. Because he hadn’t asked or anything, he’d just— but she’d— first! She’d done it first! But maybe she hadn’t meant it like—
He thunked his head against Cody’s shoulder and groaned. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something.”
“It’s nothing I want to talk about. With you. Right now.” Cody could tease about hands all he wanted, but Davijaan had no intention of outright saying he was sweet on Loren until he had a plan of action.
Cody had never met anyone he was sweet on before.
“... Alright.”
They stood in silence until Davijaan’s knee began to cramp from holding his foot above the snow dusted boards.
As they shuffled their way back inside Davijaan said, “Loren wants to write about you.”
Cody stumbled, and caught them both before they fell face down on the doorstep. “What?”
“Or, she’s already written an article about you, and wants to rewrite it.”
Cody closed the door harder than he needed to.
They took their jackets off and then sat down so Cody could remove their three boots. Davijaan waited until he was working on a sticky buckle— one of them ought to get their armor repair kit up here and fix it, but they never remembered— to say, “I think you should let her.”
Cody’s hands stilled, and then resumed. “Why?” he said, voice flat.
He shrugged. “Mostly because I think it would be funny to see a picture of a clone on the front page of a news article. But, also, it would be— It would mean something to the rest of us. To the galaxy. Just to have a document somewhere that says, here’s this random clone, and this is who he was and this is what he did. Something that’s not a military report.”
“Huh,” said Cody, and then he didn’t speak again for the rest of the day.
***
Cody kept sleeping on the couch. It felt odd to not be in the same bed, or even in the same room. Davijaan was pretty sure it wasn’t the cast, but he wasn’t sure how to ask outright.
He was surprised to find he didn't mind. It took some getting used to, but the distance at night meant he started looking forward to seeing Cody at first meal.
***
Dr. Lin was flabbergasted— and Davijaan had to work hard not to laugh at the contrast between her frown and her shock— when she ran a scanner over his leg at the one week mark and found the break was mostly healed.
“Sun above. You two are fully Human?”
He and Cody spent an awkward fifteen minutes trying to explain what exactly they were, and at the end of it the shock was gone and the frown looked thunderous.
“Hm,” she said, and removed the cast with deft hands. She gave him an adjustable splint and told him he still couldn’t walk on it for another week at least, and then followed them out to the reception desk to move their appointment for their physicals up by a tenday.
***
When they arrived home they found the ice had been scraped off the steps, and thin strips of black plastoid with short dull spikes all down the length had been nailed in rows on each step. Davijaan had seen similar plastoid strips on some steps in the village. It wasn’t until he saw them on his own steps that he realized they were an ice deterrent.
There was a box of Mr. Yang’s dumplings at the door.
***
Loren visited every day. Sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours. Usually they sat on the couch upstairs and she tried— and failed— to teach him to knit, and he tried— and failed— to find a way to bring up the kiss and explain himself.
One day as he struggled to find where he’d dropped a stitch she said, calm and conversational, “I told my parents.”
Ah. “What did they say?”
“Not much. Mostly cried. Ma cried.”
“Ah.”
“It went better than I was expecting. And. I do feel better.” She found the stitch for him, walked him through how to fix it, and that was that.
***
The next day they had supper at the Yangs.
It’d been a tenday, and Dr. Lin, baffled but pleased, had finally cleared him to walk on his own two feet again. There was a particular satisfaction in walking up a set of steps after having been carried down them two weeks ago.
After the hellos and how are yous at the door, Mr. Yang pulled Davijaan into the kitchen and into a crushing hug. “I’d wondered, when Lo was so vague about how you’d met, but…” He took a step back and gripped Davijaan’s shoulders tight. “You are an incredibly brave young man. Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”
Davijaan flushed. “I– Thank you, sir, but I didn’t do anything, really. She was the one taking care of me.”
“Nonsense, utter nonsense,” he said, releasing Davijaan with a firm shake. “You took care of each other.”
His eyes were damp. Something caught in Davijaan’s throat, so he could only nod in response.
Later, when they sat down, Loren slipped her hand into his under the table. He glanced over at her, surprised. She looked nervous, her lips drawn in a thin line, and she glanced meaningfully between him and her pa. He nodded, and smiled, and squeezed her hand.
When he tried to pull away she squeezed right back, and they held hands under the table all through the meal.