A/N: Yes, lovelies I'm still here! Diligently working away on The Great Revision! And because I adore you all (and I'm suffering a little bit of posting-withdrawl, given how long it's been since I've had *anything* to post) I wanted to share something with you all in appreciation of all your patience and support.
As far as the Revisions themselves are going:
I've tentatively started work on the new opening chapters for Lady Amalia.
I've worked up a (very rough, since I haven't made too many final decisions) mock-up of how the One-Shots and the Rogue One companion are going to fit into Lady Obscura.
And finally, I have (roughly) finished reworking Lady Adyé's completed and previously posted chapters into their new configurations, as well as started on new ones!
New ones, like the one below! ;D
That, and working out how to weave Ana and her storyline into Rise of Skywalker. CX (PS, thoughts on Rey's canon origins? I'm honestly torn between my non-canon ideas and my canon-compliant ones...they both work so well and both sound just so fun! That, and I'm honestly not certain of my own stance on Reylo...also, would it be weird to turn a Dyad into a Tryad? Asking for a friend...)
So slowly, but surely, progress is being made! I still don't have an ETA on when I'll be able to start posting, but never fear that I am still working away. Of course, if you have any thoughts on which one-shots *must* or *must not* be integrated into the three primary stories, or any other thoughts in the Great Revisions in general, I'd love to hear them! You never know what's going to help or trigger some awesome new idea!
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little (admittedly unpolished, but effectively complete) offering from me to you! I know I'm certainly enjoying working on it all!
Enjoy, Lovelies!
I'm excited to hear what you think!
Chapter 1
The cantina was dull and dark and—mercifully—quiet. She wasn't precisely suffering from a true physical headache, but the way the frustration and heartache and morose resentment Ana was feeling in that moment was pressing in on her head and her chest—she refused to admit to the press of longing in there too, since that felt too much like admitting Reem was actually getting to her—certainly left her physically uncomfortable. Or at least, near enough to that the dull and dark of the cantina was somewhat soothing. Almost.
Ana sniffed, brushing her sleeve briskly at the faint itch in her nose that she was stubbornly attributing to the prickly-sweet scent of the Rekka the Trandoshan and his Durese companion were smoking at the booth across from the bar where she sat.
She refused to admit it was anything else.
Ana was done. Completely done. She just couldn't do it anymore, listening to his comments, his stories, his pointed hints. Hadn't Reem gotten her hints? She'd outright told him! More than once. Over and over again.
Ana was done with him because he didn't have the good sense to respect her wishes and just let her history go. She didn't care what anyone thought.
She wasn't a Skywalker anymore.
What was so hard to understand about that?
Didn't he get that forcing her to remember always left her feeling like she'd been slashed across the chest all over again? She even had the scar to show for all she'd suffered. A scar he knew about, that he had seen! Hell, he was one of the only ones who actually knew who she was…who she had been.
He should know.
But he refused to let it go.
And while she had been coping—quite well, she'd thought—with the pain when she'd first started flying with him, that wasn't the case any more. Not once he'd decided to start dredging it all up again. Because it was good for her, he claimed.
No. Leaving it alone—forgetting, if that's what it took—was the only way.
It was the only thing that worked. It was the only way she could survive.
She threw back the last mouthful of cheap Corellian rum she'd been idly spinning in her fingers. As the soothing burn ran down her throat, she tapped the stocky glass on the bar for a refill.
And now because of Bek Reem, she was struggling.
Ana shuddered, struggling viscerally against the way her memories were fighting to take over.
Memories of glowing blades, gouts of hungry flames and blood, still faces and the gaping emptiness that had come after when she realized just how alone she was—it was too much as they all lurked and crept like toxic shadows through her mind, just waiting to surge forward, threatening to swamp her. Ana's eyes slammed shut, her breath growing ragged as she forced them all viciously back.
And in their place a familiar resentment bubbled up, sharp and acrid like bile on her tongue. As sick as the feeling always left her, Ana used it anyway.
It was the only way she'd found that could force the memories back. To bury them far enough down that she could breathe again.
Ana sniffed again, setting her jaw against the hollow ache that still lingered beneath her sternum. It happened every time Reem tried to bring it up. Her defenses weakened and it all fought to come back, to torment her and rip her apart all over again.
That was why she couldn't stay.
Off behind her, a faint, grinding hiss signaled that the cantina door had opened. A watery wash of light seeped into the grimy dimness around the shadow of whoever was walking through the door. Ana paid it little mind, instead lifting her glass to her lips again, focusing on the burn, steadily dimming though it was with each passing sip, instead of the weak flutter frantically beating at the edge of her senses.
She barely had to consciously think on it, clamping down on the sensation with all the decisive force of a slamming blast door, cutting it off. And breathed a weary sigh of relief when it went silent. The tension in her neck and shoulders eased…a little.
It was getting easier with each passing day, to the point where it was quick becoming instinct. To ignore the Force. To push it aside. To close it off so far down in the back of her mind she could hardly feel the familiar, distinctive hum-like sensation of it against her senses anymore.
And she felt all the better for it.
Because all she felt anymore when she touched it was empty.
A great, gaping, silent emptiness.
Her Aunt had said her shock and her pain from everything she'd suffered and everyone she'd lost That Night was clouding her senses, tainting what she felt. That, if she gave herself time, if she let herself look beyond her pain, she'd be able to touch the Force—to trust it, she scoffed silently—as she once did.
That it would help.
Ana had tried. She had tried in those first few, horrible moments after she'd finally woken after That Night. She'd tried over and over again in the weeks—months that followed. She'd tried with everything she'd had. Desperately. It hadn't worked. She'd been alone. Adrift. Lost. And when she had reached out, desperate for something to grasp, to pull herself to shore, to shelter her in the storm as her mother had assured her it always would if she trusted it to? The Force had failed her. There had been no one. Nothing.
She'd just felt nothing but that horrible, ambient, uncaring hum.
It had failed her when she needed it most.
It had abandoned her too. So why the hell should she bother?
The lesson was clear.
She was better off without it.
It was the Force that had torn her family—her life—apart.
It had destroyed everything—everyone—she cared about.
She suddenly envied the rest of the Galaxy—to them the Force was nothing more than a myth.
Inhaling deeply at the blessed quiet at the edge of her senses, Ana lifted her glass for another drink.
"Really? You're going with that swill?" Her nose wrinkled the gruff voice and, in defiance, she took a long, deliberate sip and pointedly set the glass back on the pitted granite bartop.
"What are you doing here, Reem," Ana grumbled irritably, pretending she didn't hear the faint slur to her words. "I told you I was done. I'm moving on. Getting my own ship." His only response was to harrumph.
Even dulled as she was—finally—starting to feel, Ana had little trouble decoding the meaning behind his grunt: not if I have any say.
She fixed the old Gran with a narrow-eyed look. "What, you're going to try and stop me?" Only to turn and face him properly as his impassive expression and cross-armed stance registered. A surge of anger and hurt threatened to choke her. "You didn't contact Uncle Han, did you?" she accused. That would be a cheap trick…
And one she wouldn't put past him.
"Should I?" She huffed at the gruff answer. It said enough. And she sagged with a faint but unnerving mix of both relief and disappointment. She missed her Uncle—and Chewie—a lot. But in some ways, flying with them was almost worse than with Reem.
Reem might talk about…them, but her Uncle reminded her of all of them and the life she'd had before simply with his presence. That and the sad, pained way she sometimes caught him watching her when he thought she wasn't looking. She wasn't even sure he realized he did it, really. But still it dredged everything up more often than not, anyway.
She huffed, turning back to her drink. Only to scowl when Reem's meaty fingers plucked it from her hand, the Gran throwing back the mouthful that remained. "I was drinking that." A grunt rumbled from the back of Reem's throat.
"Sure you were. But we got somewhere to be." Ana's scowl deepened.
"We?" She bit back a humourless scoff. "I suppose I should be used to you not listening to me, by now," she said peevishly, leaning forward to wave down the bartender. Reem grunted again.
Just as the bartender was turning back in Ana's direction, her world lurched in time with Reem's hand closing around her upper arm, pulling her to her feet and pushing her toward the door.
"I have better stuff on the Jorit," he replied before she had a chance to voice her objection. "If you really want to continue. I won't stop you." Her nose wrinkling, Ana nevertheless knew when to pick her battles with the grumpy old smuggler.
Not that she didn't yank her arm free the instant she had her feet properly under her.
What was one more job, she conceded bitterly…
She'd survived his blatant meddling this long, after all.
Perhaps she would've been better off sticking with her Uncle. At least when he brought up the past, it was unintentional. Mostly.
At least Han tried to be tactful about it, even if tact wasn't his strong suit.
"So where are we going," she asked, turning back to Reem as the boarding ramp groaned shut behind them a short while later. Without even a glance her way, the Gran strode past her, beckoning her to follow with an absent gesture. "What happened to some…time off…" She frowned in confusion as she followed him through the ship to the cockpit.
The strangely quiet ship. Normally, she should be hearing the rest of their small crew bickering from the hold. Especially since Reem had cut their port time short if they were leaving on a job now.
"Where's Khed?" she asked, confused. "And Taal? They're usually—"
"Just us and Keale," Reem interrupted. Her frown deepened further as the old captain settled himself into the pilot's seat.
Ana's seat.
He almost never piloted anymore.
"What's going on, Reem," she asked warily, obeying his silent motion to help get the ship in the air. Settling into the co-pilot's seat, she looked to Reem as the old freighter lifted off with a beleaguered shudder, automatically looking after the shields. "This isn't just a regular job, is it."
"Nope," he grunted, transferring control over to her. Ana glanced at the old Gran, but when he ignored her questioning look she turned her attention back to guiding the Jorit out of the atmosphere to the nearest safe jump-point with a silent huff, her nose wrinkling in exasperation. She'd been running with him long enough to know when he had no intention of answering.
It was only once they were a safe distance away from the planet that Ana turned to Reem again. "So? You gonna tell me where we're going now?"
"Nope." Turning his three eyes to Ana, he jerked his head back out of the cockpit, his hand hovering over the navicomputer just as he was about to input the coordinates. "Check in with Keale. Something in sublight control's been acting up again."
Her eyes narrowed as he turned back to the navicomputer, giving her a brief glimpse of the screen before his hand blocked her view. She caught only the first portion of the coordinates—the Sanbra sector? At once she was wracking her memory, trying to think of where in that sector they could be heading. It was right on the tip of her tongue too…
Reem gestured absently again. "You goin'?" he grunted.
Her lips thinning, Ana stood and stalked from the cockpit. She only just managed to keep her retort to herself. Just because she'd long since learned to recognize when Reem wasn't in the mood to be forthcoming didn't mean she had to like it.
Yet another reason she knew it was time to move on, she admitted as she made her way back through the crate-packed hold to the main engine access.
If only he was that reticent all the time, she mused bitterly as she side-stepped past Keale where he was elbow deep in the sublight regulation manifolds to circle around to check on the secondary thrust modulators at the first mate's curt direction. Really, why was it that when she wanted answers she couldn't get a thing out of him, but when she least needed his input he just wouldn't leave well enough alone? Slipping out of her jacket, Ana rolled up her shirt sleeves and considered the modulator's output readings even as the Jorit's hyperdrive rumbled behind her as it spooled up.
It was enough to almost make her wish she hadn't jumped at the opportunity to join up with him when she'd reached the end of her rope on the Falcon.
Not that she regretted her time as part of Bek Reem's crew. All she'd wanted to do was fix things, fly and forget and, at least in the beginning, that was exactly what she'd gotten as his primary mechanic and, with increasing frequency, as a pilot on the old Barloz-class freighter. Not only that, but he'd continued the education her Uncle had begun, showing her the ins and outs of not just making a respectable living hauling cargo—or less-respectably through smuggling, were she to feel so inclined—but making sure she knew how to take care of herself in the less savory part of the Galaxy.
And somehow, during that time Reem had still managed to keep her out of trouble…mostly. As an old friend of her mother's, and one of the few who knew who Ana really was, he had already been fond of her and rather protective even before her life had been torn apart. And after? He'd taken her under his wing without hesitation when she'd needed something to distract her from the horrors of her past. He'd given her a change of pace when jaunting around on the Falcon with her Uncle and Chewbacca both hadn't been enough and had become too much.
When she'd needed yet more distance from the source of her pain.
Aimless as she had been then—still was, if she were being truly honest with herself—and eager to leave her past and who she'd once been behind, it had seemed like the perfect solution. The Jorit had been good to her, and good for her. There was no denying that.
Save for Reem's interference in how she'd chosen to cope with the way her life had been completely torn apart, of course.
As she'd since learned, he was convinced that Ana needed to face her losses and her demons and her so-called 'potential'. As time passed and she'd grown more comfortable on his ship? The reminders had become more frequent. With increasing regularity, he would bring up stories of her past; her mother and…and her parents… and her…and her family…
To put it plainly, that wasn't Ana's philosophy. And Ana had had enough.
It was why she was convinced it was time to move on.
It wasn't long before, with an unconscious nod of satisfaction, Ana was calling to Keale that she'd adjusted the particular stabilizer she'd isolated as the source of the imbalance. His response was to cycle on the manifold he'd been working on. To both their relief after a stuttering start, it settled into an acceptably consistent hum. It earned Ana a hearty pat on the shoulder as she edged back out from the accessway she'd ended up wedged in and a directive to take it easy until they got where they were going.
Something Ana didn't hesitate to take advantage of. Though working on the sublight engines had done wonders to help ease the anxious frustration she'd initially disappeared to the cantina to try and dispel, the wary curiosity their mysterious destination had inspired was still present. So the solitude of the crew quarters and her subsequent round in the 'fresher was still quite welcome.
Especially since she was also starting to feel the aftereffects of the cheap rum.
At least Ana didn't have much longer to wait for her answer. Just as she was absently contemplating whether or not to try for a short nap, Reem was paging her back to the cockpit, his normally gruff voice almost unintelligible over the comm.
Not that Ana was in any way unpracticed at parsing out what he was saying, anymore.
Shrugging back into her jacket, Ana was already hitting the door control to let herself out into the corridor.
"Just in time," Keale greeted absently, echoing Reem's grunt of acknowledgement as Ana stepped into the cockpit. Ana rolled her eyes, her lip twitching in the semblance of a fond grin as she reclaimed the empty co-pilot's seat.
One she would deny if Reem ever saw it.
She was still mad at him, grin or no grin.
As she settled in, glancing over the console readouts as she did, Reem was reaching for the control to drop the Jorit out of lightspeed.
With a grumbling jerk, the old freighter dropped back into realspace, starlines diminishing just as a small, verdant planet appeared ahead, encircled with a loose, wide rock-composed ring.
A sticky lump formed in Ana's throat as recognition dawned.
D'Qar.
Only for the objection clawing up her throat to still as a formation of small, familiar shapes darted across their path, weaving and curving about each other in a complex choreography.
And longing rose from the pit of her stomach to swell in her chest as she tracked the two pairs of X-wings running through their exercises.
A longing that intensified as Reem's ship passed another pair of X-wings escorting a small cargo ship heading out of the system.
Damn, she missed flying. True, she regularly piloted Reem's ship, and there were times when it was rather exciting to do so. And she did love it. Sitting in the pilot's seat was one of the few things that let her feel genuinely…happy.
But it just wasn't the same.
Ana swallowed thickly, forcing her fingers to loosen their grip on the console to help Reem bring the Jorit planetside. At the communications console, Keale was exchanging authorizations with the Base Ana knew waited down below.
What in the wretched wide reaches was Reem thinking?
Evidently in possession of all the proper clearances, it wasn't long before Ana and Reem were settling the ship down on the near portion of the Resistance Base's largest landing pad.
Not long after that, Ana was stepping out into the temperate afternoon sun for the first time in…had it really been only four years? Despite the anxious knot tightening beneath her breastbone, Ana drew in a deep, shaking breath. It felt like a lifetime ago when she'd last stood on the sun-bleached duracrete of the former Rebel Base-turned-home of the Resistance.
She'd been so angry, so heartsick, then. So tired…so desperate.
She hadn't looked back.
Yet…now…
She wasn't sure she'd ever felt so… adrift as she did just then, watching as Resistance personnel scurried about around her.
And she could suddenly feel the blood beginning to leech from her face to pool in an aching lump of guilt and loneliness in the pit of her stomach.
She wasn't sure she was ready to face her again.
Not after how abruptly she'd left.
Ana nearly jumped out of her skin as Reem began barking out orders, directing the ground crew that had begun to gather as Keale lowered the boarding ramp to begin unloading.
Perhaps…no one would miss her if she slipped away for a few minutes, right? She just wanted to…she wasn't even sure. Look around, perhaps, for curiosity's sake. Ana had lived here for while after That Night, after all. It was a natural enough impulse, she convinced herself.
At least, until she realized Reem was watching her, the same impassive expression on his face that he'd worn in the cantina. She narrowed her eyes at the old Gran, suspicion suddenly pricking at the edge of her thoughts. Biting back a scowl at Reem's brusque gesture, Ana edged back to his side.
"You did this on purpose, didn't you," she hissed, her accusation clear. Reem just shrugged.
"Bring you along? Obviously," Reem answered gruffly "It's not like you stowed away." Ana's nose wrinkled at the deliberately obtuse answer.
"That's not what I meant and you know it," she bit back.
But before she could press further, the old Gran grunted and started walking away. Without even a glance to Ana. Part of her was severely tempted to refuse to play along with whatever it was the cranky meddler was trying to do. But another part… Gritting her teeth against the apprehension suddenly vibrating in her gut, Ana fell into step behind him as he strode across across the duracrete. She had a feeling she knew exactly where they were headed.
Not that Ana quite made it.
Before she could help herself, her steps slowed as frustrated shouts and admonishments carried across the pad, drawing her attention toward a rather intriguing accumulation of ship parts that looked almost like they might be assembled into the rough semblance of an actual ship. Ana frowned, her head tilting thoughtfully as her practiced eye roved over parts and cobbled systems. It looked like…were they actually…
"It's a side-project." Ana stiffened at the familiar voice, her pulse picking up anxiously. "We're hoping to have something viable soon."
The look General Leia Organa had fixed on Ana as she turned to her Aunt was knowing. And pleased. So pleased that Ana's breath caught thickly in her throat.
And beneath it all, a shadow of heartache that…called to Ana. She inhaled sharply, mentally shaking her head and pushing back the swell of kindred sorrow trying to overwhelm the sheer…relief she suddenly felt.
Needing to look away, Ana refocused on beginnings of the slapdash craft. She nearly scoffed incredulously.
"Is…is the Resistance actually trying to build a ship from, well, not from scratch, obviously," Ana self-corrected, gesturing absently to what was clearly the guts of a B-wing cockpit sitting next to the sublight engine pod from an old Montura-class shuttle. "If you are, it's a long way off. From here alone I can see at least a dozen things that definitely aren't going to work if you'd like any hope of getting…something useful off the ground. I'd hate to think what nonsense I'd find if I actually took a close look." Leia's expression was fond as Ana risked looking back to her, her lip quirking wryly. Next to her, Reem grunted out a scoffing chuckle.
"I wouldn't say no if you volunteered," Leia countered lightly. At once, Ana's equally wry grin fell, her frame tensing defensively.
"I'm no Rebel," she stated bluntly. Leia's brow rose slightly, though her expression softened. And Ana could almost hear what her Aunt was undoubtedly thinking.
But it's in your blood.
Mercifully, she didn't say it. She didn't say anything.
Instead, a decidedly admonishing yet nevertheless ecstatic chittering warble had Ana turning. And at once, the thick feeling in her throat was back.
The green and silver astrodroid burbled as he trundled up to Ana, bumping affectionately against her leg. Smiling despite the sharp ache at seeing her mother's droid again after so long, Ana didn't hesitate, patting the old droid's dome as he complained about her leaving him behind when she ran away—navigating shuttles and cargo runs was bo-oring, apparently.
"I missed you too, N3." He let loose a petulant raspberry at Ana's greeting, but it didn't quite hide the sad fondness behind it.
Only for his dome to swivel, his large dark eye looking from Ana to Leia and back again as he chattered out another string of questions.
The sum of which was asking if she was going to stick around.
And a few oblique complaints about the state of a few ships he'd been assigned to over the last several years.
Ana huffed out an exasperated sigh. "First time I see you in how long, and you're trying harder to recruit me than Aunt Leia," she chided good-naturedly. Not that it entirely hid the waver in her voice.
"We could use you," Leia said without a trace of plea, though Ana was sure she could see a spark of hope in her dark eyes. "And not just on our personnel transport project. My fighters could use someone who knows what they're doing."
Ana inhaled deeply, automatically looking to the waiting fighters further down the pad.
She was seriously thinking about it, she realized with an apprehensive pang. One that was shortly joined by a thrum of anticipation.
Only to hesitate as she met her Aunt's eye. There were a couple assurances she needed first.
"I would have conditions," she replied flatly. Eyes sharp and considering, Leia nodded in permission to continue. "One? It's Tayana or just Ana, now. Nothing else."
Leia lifted a questioning brow. "Orran's daughter?" Ana shrugged. "You weren't so keen on it when you were living here."
"You were right, it makes sense," Ana admitted. "How better to hide than behind the name of someone who's dead." After all, though the whole family had been killed, only Orran Adyé had been named when news of the so-called 'accident' had made the Holos when Ana was a child. Sympathy flickered across her Aunt's features. It happened a long time ago. Before she'd been old enough to understand just why her Uncle Orry and his family had been targeted:
Rebel Veteran.
Leia nodded in agreement even as a trace of sorrow thinned her lips.
"Very well," she agreed softly, definitively. "Tayana Adyé it is."
Ana's lips thinned, but she nodded curtly. "If you must." Not that she'd truly expected any less since Leia had suggested assuming her distant cousin's identity when she'd first started living on D'Qar; Adyé was far less conspicuous than…
Still, it was reassuring to hear her agree.
Besides, much as she might desperately long to distance herself from who she'd once been and what she'd lost, and despite the pain the constant reminder would inevitably bring, she couldn't quite deny that part of her was relieved to keep even the small connection.
Encouraged, Ana straightened, feeling her features harden as she met Leia's gaze head on.
"And you'll swear never to bring them up. Any of them." There was no question who all she meant. The pain in Leia's eyes grew more pronounced, joined by a deep sadness. But as Reem started to gruffly object, Leia's hand rose, easily silencing him.
"No." Ana stiffened, suddenly feeling like she was going to be sick. Reem looked between Ana and Leia, his three eyes sharply considering.
"Then I can't—" Ana choked, only for Leia's pointed look to silence her.
"I won't swear that I'll never mention them," she said firmly before her voice gentled, "but I will promise that I won't bring any of them up unless I feel it absolutely necessary."
The anxious flutter stilled. And Ana could breathe again.
She and her Aunt might have never been so close as she was with her Uncle Han, but there was no question that Ana trusted Leia unreservedly. Drawing in a shaking breath, Ana nodded her agreement.
Leia's features softened. "Good." Only for her lip to quirk wryly. "Anything else?" A small, answering smile tugged at Ana's lips.
There were a few things…
Ana looked around then as another pair of X-wings rumbled to life. Longing once again pulled in the centre of her chest, physically seeming to draw her toward the familiar ships. As they lifted off, angling gracefully toward the sky, she turned back to Leia with a wry look of her own.
"Oh, and I want to fly those."
She could swear her aunt's lip twitched, and that the composed older woman nearly rolled her eyes.
"You've spent too much time with your Uncle," Leia said dryly, though not without fondness. Despite herself, Ana grinned, the last lingering traces of panic loosening in her chest when the comparison she'd half dreaded even after Leia's promise didn't pass her Aunt's lips. Leia barely restrained a sigh at Ana's expectant look.
"We'll see how you fit in with us first," the General said then, fixing Ana with a stern look. "Then we'll talk about X-wings." Ana's grin surprisingly didn't fade, but a hopeful anticipation took up the place next to where the ever-present knot of anxious dread tremored beneath her sternum, crowding the feeling out as her eye was drawn once more to another a pair of the distinctive fighters coming in to land.
"However, I do have something else that I believe will interest you," Leia offered then. Ana frowned, tearing her attention from the two blue-accented ships to narrow in undisguised skepticism at her aunt.
"Something more interesting than snubfighters? It'd have to be pretty damn interesting to beat them," Ana retorted. But rather than leveling Ana with an admonishing look for her language as she'd expected, Leia merely looked past Ana, her dark eyes glinting with what Ana could only describe as smug satisfaction as they lifted sky-ward. Her frown deepening as she too caught the sound of a deeper, richer rumble that signaled something much larger than a fighter was approaching, Ana turned.
And her breath caught sharply.
Angling around toward the landing pad in a graceful arc that belied its size, was a distinctive red Corellian corvette. A ship Ana would know anywhere.
"The Flame?" she breathed, partially turning back to Leia, unable to wholly tear her blurring gaze away from her mother's old ship.
"If you do join us, you'll need to take on more responsibilities than just a mechanic," the General stated briskly before her voice softened, fondness colouring her tone. "In your case, one of those responsibilities would include taking part in and—I hope—eventually captaining missions on The Flame, primarily rendezvousing with allies like Captain Reem to collect supplies." Ana's chest felt tight as she finally turned to her Aunt. Behind her, The Amaran Flame settled with a familiar bone-vibrating groan beyond Reem's ship on the far side of the landing pad.
"You want me to…to captain…" She couldn't even properly finish the question, her voice failing her. But Leia understood what she couldn't quite bring herself to say.
The General nodded, her smile gentle despite her authoritative mien. "Someday," she confirmed, lightly. Ana swallowed thickly, her fingers unconsciously lifting to brush the pendant hanging, safely hidden, beneath her flightsuit. Leia's lips quirked. "I'll give you some time to think it over."
Absently, Ana nodded, her thoughts spinning even as her gaze slid back to the Flame where it sat proudly behind the Jorit, the corvette effectively towering over the old Barloz freighter.
Leia's answering grin was knowing as she walked away.
There was little doubt what Ana was going to choose. And they all knew it.
N3 burbled happily beside Ana, his tone encouraging.
"Should've just said you'll do it and be done." Ana looked to Reem. The Gran was watching her carefully, little hint of what he was thinking clear on his features. Ana lifted a challenging brow, her annoyance with the Gran making a reappearance.
"So this was your plan? To pawn me off on the Rebels?" she quipped testily. It was clear there was little bite, though, as Reem huffed. Ana easily recognized the sound; it was as close as he ever got to a chuckle.
"Resistance," he corrected, glancing down at her out of the corner of his eye. "Haven't been Rebels since the Alliance disbanded. You know that, and not from me." And Ana abruptly bristled, instinctively bracing for him to continue.
Only for her stomach to lurch when he said nothing.
She turned, then, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why aren't you trying to share that story, or any of the other ones about…about her," she choked out, her voice betraying that she couldn't quite seem to decide whether she was irate or upset. N3 whistled sadly next to her, pressing closer to her leg in sympathy. Really, she was both, anger and anguish making her chest feel tight once again. They both knew which story she meant.
She had known most of her life that Reem's ties to the Resistance ran deep as a veteran of the Rebel Alliance, having run supplies and arms for them as well as providing intelligence from the Galaxy's underbelly. And, as he had been keen to share almost since the day she'd met him as a child, he liked to take credit not only for bringing Athara to the Rebellion, but also for introducing Ana's parents.
Given his answer? She was expecting and dreading for him to yet again launch into that story any second.
After a long, loaded moment, something shifted in the old Gran, his stocky frame sagging minutely. And in a split-second of insight Ana's breath caught in a cloying lump at how…sad he looked. But then it was gone. Reem simply shrugged, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"A peace offering," he'd explained brusquely. "I still want you to like me, after all. I'm planning on trying to convince you to come back after you've had your fill of these idealists."
Despite herself, a weak chuckle rasped up her throat. "You say that as if you already know I'm going to jump ship." Reem grunted an affirmative. He clearly didn't have any doubt. And strangely, that was all the encouragement Ana needed.
She drew in a deep tremoring breath, steadying herself. Her fingertips once more absently rose to her neck. There was one more inevitable, hopeful question that came next that she just couldn't hold back. Even though she had a feeling that she knew the answer already.
"So you're going to leave her be?" He knew exactly what she meant. His heavy sigh was answer enough.
"You know I won't," he admitted softly. Ana blinked in surprise. It was a far more sympathetic and circumspect response than Ana was sure she'd ever gotten from him. He turned to her, his three eyes intent and almost…entreating she realized with a start. Her chest felt cramped again. "Because you know and I know that you're trying to forget," he continued, his voice low and as gruff as she'd ever heard it. "So I'm going to keep pushing you to remember them all until you realize it's better to remember." Though her jaw had clenched and her shoulders had stiffened beneath his six-fingered grip as he spoke, her eyes also began to feel warm, her vision threatening to blur.
And she found she couldn't quite bring herself to be angry with him in that moment.
But neither could she bring herself to forgive him.
Not yet anyway. Maybe someday.
And he seemed to know it.
With a final grunt of satisfaction that he'd made his point, he gave her shoulder a final squeeze before stalking off back to his ship. Sedately, Ana followed, the knowledge that, in many ways, she was at a crossroad feeling like a physical weight on her shoulders.
Reem was right about one thing, though.
Ana knew what she was going to choose.
A sense of finality settled around her as the Jorit lifted off with a groaning rumble, the departing ship seeming to take a different sort of weight she hadn't realized she'd been carrying with it as it left her behind.
As the old freighter disappeared into the atmosphere, Ana's eyes lowered, gazing across the empty space where the Jorit had sat toward the familiar red ship beyond.
Where her Aunt stood, waiting for her.
A gentle breeze wafted against her cheek, tugging at the strands of hair that had fallen from the loose knot at the nape of her neck. It was strangely…comforting. Reassuring, even. Drawing in a deep breath, Ana started across the duracrete
"I suppose this is answer enough," she said with an attempt at a confident smile as she reached Leia's side. Leia grinned, her own expression wry and decidedly pleased.
"I'd say," she agreed. Off behind them, another pair of X-wings were pulling in to land next to their respective hangars, Leia chuckled at Ana's inadvertently wistful look.
"Don't get any ideas," the General warned dryly, even if the telling glint in her eyes made it clear she expected nothing less. Ana's lips quirked.
"Too late," she quipped with an absent, dismissive wave as she looked back to her Aunt.
Leia's features softened, and even as Ana caught on to what she intended, Leia was drawing her into a hug.
"I missed you, Ana-girl," Leia murmured into Ana's hair, her arms tightening, grounding Ana in the realness of the embrace. Ana squeezed her Aunt right back, clinging to one of the only family she had left.
"Me too," she whispered.
A/N: Thank you for reading, lovelies! I hope you all enjoyed.
One further note, I've been thinking a lot recently about titles and names and the like - specifically for my Lady Adye Series and, in particular, for 'Resistance Commander', and I think I've finally found my solution.
As I'm sure many of you have noticed, I like themes when it comes to my series and titles. ;P I've also been thinking a lot about how, given her prominent position in the Resistance by the time tFA, it would make far more sense for Ana to go by an alias the same way Athara did post-Yavin/pre-Bespin for, well, much the same reasons.
So, as you saw in this new chapter, I'm sure: Ana's going to adopt 'Tayana' (the frontrunner, though it may still change) as her name. That way, she can still go by Ana among those she's close to and, given that it's an assumed name just like 'Obscura' or 'Amalia' it'll also serve as the new title to Part III! It also has the added bonus of leaving 'Lady Adye' for the name for the series as a whole. Fun, right? I like when things work out so neatly... CX
Of course, I'd love to hear what you think, along with any thoughts you might have on the Great Revision in general!
Happy Reading,
DLA
