General Disclaimer: I don't own anything of value.
Nightmares can shake the confidence of the strongest person; the terror is customized according to your own worst imaginings. But dreams—good or bad—can unlock strength you never knew you had because dreams hold the key to what you never knew you were fighting for. The Jedi Exile thought that she knew what she was fighting for, but, haunted by a nightmare, Cassandra Shandu might be proven wrong…
Cassandra's eyes snapped open. Her hands were twisted in the sheets—her pulse racing, and her jaw clenched. Confused, she forced her muscles to relax from their painful positions and tried to make sense of her situation. She was on the Ebon Hawk in the port dormitory. Kreia and Visas were asleep in their bunks. There were no threats in the vicinity. She was not injured. So why was she so tense? Why did she feel so reluctant to turn her back on the room and go back to sleep? Why was she so scared?
She shut her eyes, attempting to quell her panicking thoughts, but opened them immediately because the lingering feeling of fear was much worse in the dark. Cassie frowned; she was not going to be able to sleep anytime soon. She silently slipped out of bed, mentally berating herself for feeling unsafe despite all evidence to the contrary. She gathered her robe and tiptoed out of the dormitory. A proper Jedi would not be scared, she scolded herself. A proper Jedi would not have had a nightmare in the first place. Cassandra stopped mid-step. That was it; she had had a nightmare. She had never had a nightmare before.
"Cassie?" She looked up to see her confused pilot staring at her. "Why're you up?"
She blinked a few times before simply shaking her head. Atton looked at her uneasily for a few moments, then shrugged and continued toward the cockpit. "Wait," Cassandra abruptly blurted out, surprising both of them. As he turned back toward her with a cautious look, she impulsively asked, "Can I sit with you a while?"
"Ah…sure." However, he made no further moves toward the cockpit.
Cassie sighed. He wanted an explanation. "Do you have nightmares, Atton?"
"Of course I do." His eyebrows knitted together and he looked down, seemingly offended. "Who doesn't?"
Her shoulders slumped, as she hugged herself. "Jedi don't. At least, not proper Jedi." She paused for a response; when one did not seem immediately forthcoming, she asked, "What are you supposed to do after a nightmare, Atton?"
Atton looked up at her again, instead of the floor. He tilted his head slightly, considering, and then he abruptly continued his earlier walk to the cockpit. She followed, arms still wrapped around herself as she fought the prickle of fear that was telling her to hide. "You've never had a nightmare before?" Atton asked incredulously as he reached his chair. "Not as a kid, even, or during the war?" When she simply shook her head, he slumped into the pilot's chair and gestured toward the co-pilot's chair for Cassandra. "Make yourself comfortable, I guess."
For just a moment, the side of her mouth quirked up into a half-hearted grin, and, then, she shook her head again. When Atton leaned back, about to ask why not, she took a quick step and slipped onto his lap, cuddling into his trademark ribbed jacket. Cassie felt Atton tense in surprise, which she expected. However, she had expected him to relax—at the very, very least—not consciously hesitate before awkwardly placing his hands on her waist to steady her. Bemused at his chaste behavior, but feeling better nonetheless, she returned to her earlier question, "What do you do after a nightmare, Atton?" When she tilted her chin up, he was still blinking at her.
"I, well, I usually, ah, to be honest, I go get drunk. Or at least pick a fight with someone." He glanced away.
"What about when you were younger? The first nightmare you can remember," she prompted, knowing that she was prying—a dangerous activity with Atton—but forging ahead anyway.
To her surprise, he answered, though he refused to make eye contact. "My mother raised me, always working at least three jobs but staying on the straight and narrow. Sometimes, she had night shifts, but, when she didn't, I would wake her up and she would…tell me that everything was okay. If she wasn't home, I'd steal her pillow and pretend it was her," he confessed softly.
Cassie smiled longingly and whispered, "It sounds like she loved you a lot."
"Yeah, I reckon she did, while she was there." Finally, Atton had relaxed a bit through his chest and shoulders, but his hands remained light and hesitant on her waist. She reached out, with the lightest touch of Force she could manage, towards his aura. She felt tension, but she didn't dare reach deeper to find its source.
"Atton?" She waited until he looked at her. "What's the matter?"
"What do you mean? Nothing's the matter," he answered, but his eyes betrayed him to her. Liar, she thought.
She smiled sadly, "Atton, you've been avoiding me. You're actually thinking before you speak. You haven't been drinking, and I know for a fact that we're well-stocked. You haven't teased me, and I haven't caught you checking me out in ages. You haven't even checked out Mira in her ridiculous getup. Now I'm here, in your lap, and you're acting all…gentlemanly," she ended in a faintly disgusted tone.
"And these are bad things?" he raised his eyebrows.
"Yes!" she protested, "They're not normal, Atton. You aren't acting like you. And that means something's wrong." Cassie paused, studying him. He looked away, but didn't deny her conclusion. "Tell me," she implored.
But he didn't. He just stared into the blue of hyperspace. He did, however, pull her closer, tucking her head under his chin and wrapping her securely in his arms. He kicked his feet up onto the console, reclining as she lay on him. She sighed, defeated yet content. The fear that had lingered from her nightmare was gone.
"For the record, sweetheart," Atton rejoined, after a while, in a slightly husky voice, "I would never bother with watching the bounty hunter." Cassie lifted her head to look at him questioningly, but, when his bright brown eyes met hers, he just smiled and changed the subject. "So. You've never had a nightmare."
"No," she murmured distractedly, letting her head fall on his shoulder, but still wondering about his words. "I was raised in the Temple, you know. I don't think you could have a nightmare there if you tried. The very walls ooze peace and serenity like a Hutt oozes slime."
She felt more than heard him chuckle. "What about during the war?"
"Lots of meditation. And, when I did dream, it was simply reliving memories—highly upsetting, but not terrifying." Cassie yawned, shutting her eyes.
"You should go back to bed." She hummed in response. When she had made it clear she was not moving, he continued quietly, "What did you dream about tonight?"
Cassie reluctantly opened her eyes, sat up straight, and considered her scoundrel of a pilot. She answered carefully, "I dreamt that I lost someone very important to me." She paused, trying to figure out what it all meant and if he knew what she meant. They stared at each other for an immeasurable moment. Eventually, she broke eye contact and slid out of his arms, saying, "You're right. I should get some more sleep."
As she began to walk away, she heard him sigh behind her, "Good night, sweetheart."
She stopped in her tracks, just two steps away. Before she could change her mind, she went back and, leaning over him, lay a hand on his shoulder and kissed him sweetly. As she pulled back far enough to look into his eyes, she didn't need to even try to feel his surprise, it rang out in the Force as clear as a bell. She smiled mischievously, "Good night, Atton." She ran finger down the side of his face, before once again leaving the cockpit. She called back, over her shoulder, "Sweet dreams." She knew hers would be.
