Active Headcanons: Autistic Force Sensitives, Force Sensitive Bodhi, Baze, and Chirrut
Active AUs: Rogue One Survival AU
Trigger Warnings: Mentions of torture, unreality
There had been a 'first kiss' before Luke, Bodhi thought. More accurately, there had been a 'first kiss' before Bor Gullet. He remembered watching it go, in favour of holding onto more important memories, like the whereabouts of Jyn's father, and the vague knowledge that he had a message for the Rebellion.
There had probably been other 'first's in that bundle, as well. Likely a first apartment, or first date. First dance. Hundreds of thousands of smaller 'first's, ones that had, at that time, already faded into a background hum. Parts of those firsts still remained, in his ability to pilot his ship, or his memory of where Imperial transports ran, or a familiarity to certain tastes and smells.
Others were gone entirely.
His mother's house. He knew he'd had a mother, and that she had had a house, that he had grown up there, and there'd been a sibling… But he couldn't remember where the house had been, or what his mother had looked like, or how old his little sister was…
He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead to Luke.
Sometimes, it was easier to forget.
To pretend that there hadn't been anything before Bor Gullet, and he'd always been the man he was now.
The 'first kiss', the 'first dance', 'first apartment', 'first job'…
They were the past.
He tried to tell himself that it was alright.
Luke was his now. The Rebellion was his now. Chirrut and Baze, Cassian and Jyn, and K-2SO… They were his now. He wasn't Bodhi Rook, Imperial Pilot, native to Jedha, anymore. Because there was no Jedha, and he had no history with which to be Imperial, and Bodhi Rook sometimes meant so little to him that it could have been the name of a stranger.
"Shh," he heard, and he realized slowly that Luke was stroking his hair.
"It's all gone," he said, and his voice sounded choked. Bodhi Rook, Rebel Pilot, still sometimes missed Bodhi Rook, Imperial Pilot, for reasons that he didn't want to think about. Because Bodhi Rook, Imperial Pilot had had a childhood. He'd been a kid, and a student, and a naïve cog in the system, unquestioning…
Until Galen.
Galen was the string that held the two Bodhis together. He knew Imperial Pilot Bodhi better than Rebel Pilot Bodhi did, and sometimes Bodhi would look for signs in his speech, in his old, tired smiles, to see if Rebel Pilot Bodhi was someone he trusted as much as he had the other Bodhi.
"I know," Luke murmured.
Luke did not know. Bodhi knew that, and he knew that Luke also knew it, but that sometimes, it was hard to have the right words, so they would settle for ones that felt comforting.
"I worry… It could come back." He grimaced into Luke's side, where he'd pressed his face.
He did worry that. In torturous moments when he remembered sitting in Bor Gullet's cell, when he accidentally remembered how cruelly Saw had treated him, he would wonder if the Empire was so bad after all, if maybe they would have a way to bring back Imperial Bodhi. Maybe with their advanced technology, thousands of scientists who may not have matched Galen's skill alone, but who could surely reassemble a mind together…
What if they could reconstruct Bodhi Rook, Imperial Pilot, with his childhood, and memories, and safe, comfortable ignorance?
But then he saw the horrible burst of sand, rushing across the horizon towards him, and himself, so sure he would die. He saw Jyn, dragging her wounded father back to the ship, and heard the scream of fighters overhead. He saw Scarrif collapse behind them, falling prey to its own Death Star. He saw the princess, lead back in by Luke, having finally been caught up by the shock of what the Empire had done to her planet.
And he saw Luke. Not what the Empire had done to him, quite as much. Luke's suffering had been on so much smaller, and more personal, a scale that he had trouble comprehending it.
No, Luke not so much repulsed him from the Empire as he drew him to the Alliance.
Bodhi managed to open his eyes, and roll over in Luke's lap, looking up at his face.
Luke gave him a little smile, and reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly, before laying their clasped hands over Bodhi's heart.
"You're all right," he promised, leaning down towards Bodhi somewhat, his eyes wide and earnest, but speaking with the confidence he'd begun to collect since escaping his uncle's wrath.
Bodhi shook his head, "Not really."
"You will be," Luke promised, his thumb slowly massaging Bodhi's hand. "I'm here. Chirrut and Baze are here. We'll keep you safe."
Part of Bodhi, Rebel Pilot had forgotten that he was not Bodhi, Prisoner of Saw. "Baze hates me."
Luke shook his head, bending to plant a gentle kiss on Bodhi's forehead. "Baze doesn't hate you. He's just outside, would you like me to get him?"
Bodhi shook his head sharply.
Even if Baze didn't hate him, and want him dead, Bodhi didn't want anyone else with him now. At the moment, he and Luke sat on their bed, in their darkened quarters, with only the soft pinpricks of distant stars casting the slightest of lights across them.
For a moment, he imagined the beam of the Death Star obliterating another world, and felt the crushing sensation of billions of lives being extinguished.
"No," Luke said, and Bodhi realized that their minds were connected again. It was so easy and natural that he often failed to notice when it had happened, or would forget about it when all the Bodhis he no longer was were vying for control of his mind.
"It's gone," Luke continued, and Bodhi realized that there had been no pause, "I destroyed it. It can't hurt anyone anymore."
"Jedha City," Bodhi mumbled, feeling that his lips barely moved.
"And Alderaan," Luke agreed, rubbing Bodhi's hand again. "They're gone. I know. We can't bring them back." Luke smiled slightly, wistfully, "Any more than we can stop the suns from setting."
"The sun doesn't set over Jedha-," Bodhi began. There had been calculations, desperate attempts to understand the effects of that blast… A rescue effort, the Rebellion's most talented pilots desperately searching the raging, impossible sandstorm for survivors.
Luke had wanted to go, but he'd seen the fear in Bodhi's face, and softened his resolve.
Bodhi had already lost all of Imperial Bodhi, everything that he had been, to that planet. He couldn't bear to begin to lose Rebel Bodhi there as well.
"But hundreds of thousands of suns do still set," Luke reminded him, tipping his head to the viewport. "We have to be brave, and face the change together."
He was smiling, but it was forced, and Bodhi struggled to remember that Luke's losses had not been insignificant, even if he was the only one affected by them.
"I try to be brave," he said, remembering Galen's face as he'd told him to be brave, to deliver a message… "I brought it. I did."
"You saved the galaxy," Luke said, softly, but with a fire that he only ever seemed to summon for Bodhi.
"I made right," Bodhi said, repeating the same words he told himself every time he got sucked into the past.
Luke nodded, reaching for a blanket, which he tucked over Bodhi's torso, before reaching down to work on removing his boots.
Like a small child, Bodhi drew them closer to Luke, but didn't attempt to help. He watched in something akin to amazement as Luke unfastened them, and pulled them loose.
This morning, he had put on his own boots, and headed to the hanger for another flight test, his scores on Imperial tests no longer the decider in what ship he would fly. He had gone in confident, remembering everything Luke had helped him study, everything he'd managed to hold in his mind, which sometimes seemed so full of holes that it would never hold anything again.
He closed his eyes as Luke got his second boot off, frowning. He didn't remember how the test had gone. He didn't remember how he'd ended up back in their room, held to Luke's familiar, dusty scent, alone in the dark…
"Did I pass?" he asked uncertainly.
Luke always knew these things. Everything Bodhi forgot, Luke remembered, to tell him again. Sometimes, he half expected to wonder aloud about his past, and have Luke answer. Perhaps Luke was the answer to his broken mind, he thought vaguely, allowing himself to be pushed into a sitting position so Luke could get comfortable, before leaning back into his boyfriend's arms.
Perhaps Luke didn't remember things, so much as have access to parts of his mind that Bodhi had forgotten the routes to…
"Yes," Luke answered, helping Bodhi to lower himself back into his lap. "You're a fighter pilot, now."
Bodhi Rook, Rebel Fighter Pilot, nodded.
"They're not sure you should go into active service right away," Luke continued, reaching desperately for one of Bodhi's comfort objects, just out of his reach. "But your credentials all check out, now." He managed to snag a worn strap, and scrabble it into his hand, before passing the old goggles to Bodhi.
Slowly, Bodhi fiddled with the fraying strap, stretching it, and snapping it back against his hands. Then, he donned the goggles, feeling their familiar pressure against his forehead as he leaned back into Luke again.
He didn't want to be in active service yet, anyway.
It was only a few short weeks from Jedha, and Eadu, and Scarrif, and Yavin…
He was still healing, both mentally and physically.
He wanted the proof that his mind still worked, that he could earn a job as a pilot, not the actual position. Not yet.
He wanted proof that Imperial Cargo Pilot Bodhi Rook was not the most accomplished Bodhi Rook that could ever exist.
"We need to apply the salve, now," Luke murmured, in the voice he used to motivate Bodhi, without seeming too forceful. "Can you undress yourself?"
Bodhi hesitated. He didn't want to get undressed, and lie in the cool air as Luke applied a cold, stinging salve to his wounds. He didn't want to move at all from where he lay, safe and warm.
"You have to be brave," Luke reminded him, and he sat up, slowly.
As soon as he was out of Luke's lap, the other pilot was up, moving around their little room in the sprawling suite that had once belonged to a rich Imperial officer, before it had been stolen, and converted to a living space for Rogue One, and their various companions.
Chirrut and Baze had taken the room that had originally been a bedroom, for reasons that everyone insisted were practical, that it was the most traditional bedroom, and therefore easiest to navigate.
None of them really believed that cover story, though.
With the two older men acting as the adults of the household, the others found it easier to be children again, staying up late, and shushing each other's whispered giggles when they heard Chirrut or Baze get out of their bed, to demand that they be quieter.
Sometimes, it felt like memories Bodhi could only vaguely feel, the ones that weren't quite gone, but he was certain he'd never properly remember. Jyn's face, lit up with mischief as she threw a blanket over them, her glowstick dropped to the blankets between herself, Bodhi, Luke, Cassian, and Leia, the five of them holding their breath as they waited for the Guardian's footsteps to silence themselves, before picking up their game where they'd left off. Cassian, struggling to hide his unlucky hide-and-go-seek partner, K-2. Leia, struggling to get Artoo down an ill-advised staircase.
It all felt so easy. So right. Organic, compared to the regimented life he'd lived under the Empire.
It was glorious, when things went right.
But when things slipped, and Artoo fell, or Jyn woke up from a nightmare with a shout, or K-2 failed to activate on the first attempt, it all crumbled. In a heartbeat, the playful atmosphere of their personal playground would stagnate, energy becoming static in the air, a bolt ready to strike any one of them, the calm before the storm so torturously powerful that there was no relief to it.
"Bodhi?"
Bodhi blinked.
He was sitting on the edge of their bed. Luke was back, with the salve and a cloth, and Bodhi was still fully clothed.
That hadn't been what he was supposed to do.
He'd been supposed to get undressed. Yes. He remembered that.
"Okay," Luke said, trying to sound patient, but failing. "Give me your arm."
Bodhi did so, mechanically, and Luke unfastened the base of his sleeve, holding out his hand expectantly for Bodhi's other hand.
Again, Bodhi gave it to him, without thought or hesitation.
It was things like this that made it easy to want to slip back into the rhythm of the Empire. With simple commands, one after another, quick, precise, expected; he didn't have to think.
Luke reached for his neck, and Bodhi leaned forwards, allowing him to tear the Velcro apart there as well, flinching at the sound of the ripping.
As far as he knew, Bor Gullet didn't make much of a sound.
But in his mind, that was what it had sounded like. It was how it had felt, and it sounded as though it would leave the frayed edges that he felt in his mind.
When he unfastened it, he usually took a minute or so, carefully pulling it loose a few strands at a time, no more painful than working his hair out of a zipper.
Usually, Luke remembered.
And now, as Bodhi failed to respond to his next command, it clearly came back to him, and he winced as well.
"Sorry."
He sounded so ashamed. It was reassuring. Bodhi didn't remember anyone else apologizing to him so sincerely.
Luke licked his thumb, reaching out to gently run it over where the back of the Velcro had rested, as if closing a real wound.
"I'm so sorry," Luke sighed, and he bowed his head, leaning in to hold Bodhi close, squeezing him, and slowly stroking his back, trembling.
Instinctively, Bodhi wrapped his arms around him in return, pressing his face to Luke's long hair.
He wished it wasn't like this.
He loved being with his friends, his boyfriend, but the reminders of the reason for their luxury always hurt. Each of them carried some trauma, some unfixable pain, that could be eased, but never truly erased. For himself, the loss of who he'd been. For Jyn, the struggle to be the daughter she longed to be, to the father she'd thought she'd lost. For Cassian, to redeem himself in his own eyes. For Leia, to only continue to support the burden of her lost planet. For Luke, to shoulder the shame and guilt he felt at having failed to save his abusive uncle.
He wanted to speak, and reassure Luke, but words had escaped him again. Silently, he cursed himself, twitching his head in aggravation with himself, and accidentally hitting Luke, who pulled back in surprise, an expression of hurt on his face for an agonizing moment.
Bodhi shook his head, hating the lack of words. Why would they flow so readily sometimes, and refuse to move at all when he really needed them! He only wanted to be able to reassure his boyfriend, it didn't seem too much to ask!
Disgusted with himself, he turned away, starting to strip down viciously, punishing himself with the sound of the Velcro ripping, until Luke caught his wrists, and met his eyes, slowly shaking his head.
Even when Luke didn't speak, his eyes were so expressive, full of soft words, a gentle reprimand of no. Don't do that. Don't hurt yourself. Bodhi could only hope that his own told so much.
Luke helped him stand, and step out of his jumpsuit, before helpfully lowering him back to the bed, stretching him out on his back.
Slowly, Luke began treating Bodhi's wounds, and Bodhi watched as his lips moved silently, unsure if he'd become deaf, or sound had stopped working for the whole galaxy. The words didn't seem important, long, and slow, and Bodhi thought he must have been singing.
Why couldn't he hear? He wanted to know the other boy's words, and see that everything was all right!
He reached up, placing his hand against Luke's chest, and feeling him breathe, out of time with the rhythm of the words.
Sound did work, then. And Luke was only being silent, as he sometimes was.
Bodhi wished he had songs to sing, to fill the silence between them, but any he had once known were gone with the city where he grew up.
"I miss you," he sighed at last, reaching up to touch Luke's cheek.
Luke looked up from where he was tending a wound on Bodhi's chest. "Me?"
"I missed you for so many years," Bodhi said, struggling to express himself. That he had failed to know Luke before, even though that would all have been lost. Not that he wanted Luke to have known Imperial Cargo Pilot Bodhi, just that there had been years when Luke had not known any Bodhi, and Bodhi had not known Luke.
Luke smiled, and turned slightly to kiss Bodhi's palm, "I miss you, too, then."
Bodhi smiled, and his hand slipped back down towards himself. Luke caught it before it would have landed on a tender spot, and carefully guided it back to the bed, continuing his work.
"One day, I will treat your wounds," Bodhi promised, surprising himself with his confidence.
"I hope I don't have this many!" Luke laughed sharply, pressing salve into a particularly deep wound, and causing Bodhi to wince. He gently dabbed away the excess, and met Bodhi's eyes, smiling again, "But I appreciate it."
Slowly, Luke capped the salve, placing it on their bedside table. Like a marionette, Bodhi stood, watching as Luke folded back the blankets, and offered his supportive hands to climb back into bed.
"What triggered it?" Bodhi asked, looking up at Luke as he carefully laid back into the mattress.
"It was Galen," Luke answered, crawling in next to Bodhi. "The wrong words. You know."
Bodhi nodded pensively, and realized that the strap of his goggles was still around his head. Uncertainly, he moved to take them off, but Luke shook his head. "Keep them."
He nodded, resting them back against his hairline, and carefully rolled onto his side, wanting to see Luke. In the dark, the other pilot gave him a smile, before awkwardly scooting forwards on his elbow to place a gentle kiss on Bodhi's lips.
Bodhi smiled, closing his eyes.
Yes.
There had been a different first kiss, before Luke.
But the past was gone, more for Bodhi than for anyone else.
Whoever it had been was gone, either Imperial, or razed with the Holy City.
And Luke was here now. Luke was the present, the month of past that still existed, and the future that his untrained eye could see.
And as he pulled them closer together, to sleep in each other's arms again, Bodhi didn't think he'd want it any other way.