Folks! Here we are: Starlight sequel.
Some things to have in mind, it will have a bit of a different structure than Starlight so the chapters will be shorter, at least for a while.
There will be some back and forth between POV's, but it will still mostly be Cora's POV.
Shorter chapters don't mean that I write any faster, so beware of long pauses between updates because I'm a disaster.
I will probably add warnings at the beginning of every chapter but I will list some major ones for the whole fic below so if you find those things triggering, this might not be the fic for you. For a more detailed version of this, send me a message, or read the fic on Archive of our Own.
General warnings: Violence, Explicit Language, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Suicide Thoughts, Suicidal ideation, Suicide seen as a last resort, Foul language, Alcohol consumption, Self Medication and a lot of angst.
Chapter warnings: Mentions of Self-Medication and Alcohol Abuse.
I promise a happy ending at the very end. A true happy ending. Enjoy!
The room looked empty. Most of the furniture was still in place, although Cora assumed they would remove it before they finished moving the base, but it didn't feel like home anymore. Her coffee table and collection of mismatched cushions was still there—and would probably never leave the tiny moon, she doubted anyone needed them—but all other personal effects had been packed or thrown away. It was disheartening how little she owned. She could fit everything in a large duffel bag and a medical case, and along with the things she was wearing, that was it.
Her mattress was still on the floor, in the corner of the room where she's been sleeping for the past few weeks, but she couldn't muster the strength to put it back in its place. They'll probably trash it anyway, if anyone bothered to check her room before leaving Yavin for good.
She took one final look around before she left. Ben the lichen was no longer on her desk and the tank had been scrapped. She'd placed Ben outside in a spot she deemed suitable, but she couldn't be certain of its survival. Jav Mefran was no longer there to help her out with it. She could only hope that the little bugger would find a way to survive, after all, it seemed to thrive in a prison cell and in an artificial environment, so he must have been pretty resilient. There was no way she could take him where she was going.
The automatic door closed behind her and she walked towards the elevator. The last time she'd do so. The dark corridors carried so many memories, but right now each of them hurt like a fresh wound. She stared at her shoes and didn't dare to look up as the elevator doors closed.
Last time she'd walked those hallways was with Lewella, a couple of days after the battle on Scarif and gotten drunk on what was left of Melshi's stash of jet juice. They also found a crate of expensive liquors labeled "The Good Shit. In case of death knock yourself out" in Melshi's messy handwriting and they laughed until they cried and cried until there were no tears left. Eventually, they fell asleep on the cold, hard floor and missed work the next day, but no one said anything about it. Only after the fact did they find out the base nearly suffered the same faith as Alderaan while they were still drunk.
She couldn't remember clearly how long ago that was, a month or two, maybe more, maybe less, she couldn't tell for sure. It was like time had lost its consistency and made no sense anymore. Ever since Scarif she'd been in a haze most of the time. That, when she wasn't outright breaking down, but she was trying to keep it together in public and do her job as best as she could.
She held out hope that they would make until the last moment; until the Death Star fired and almost wiped Scarif clean. She'd watched it on one of the screens in the War Room, where she'd gone after she finally regained the ability to move after Cassian's departure. No one had asked her to be there, but no one stopped her either. Even Draven blatantly ignored her presence. So she heard about it in real time. The battle of Scarif; the destruction of the fleet; the death and renewal of hope.
She was numb after that, barely functioning. Doctor Crane had insisted that she'd take a few days off once it was clear how affected she was and for the first time she agreed to take his advice. But then Alderaan happened, and everything changed.
The elevator came to a stop and she got off. There was a strange tension in the air, but not the kind that came before a fight. Moving to a new location kept everyone working around the clock. Cora had no idea where they were moving, she hadn't asked and no one had told her. They were all on a need to know basis, just in case any of them would be intercepted by enemies. The threat of the Empire striking still loomed over them. After all, they'd won a battle, not the war.
But Cora didn't really care either, since she wasn't going with the rest of them anyway. She was leaving for Naos, an important outpost at the junction of some key routes or something. She'd been told it was a straight hellhole, but it didn't bother her. Perhaps the shit weather would help her forget about the storm raging inside of her. For a little while, at least.
She bypassed the ER and went straight upstairs. Lewella had only been on base once since Alderaan and Cora had already said goodbye to everyone the day before in a rushed lunch get-together. Her colleagues were just as distraught as she was and goodbyes were now a lot harder than before, so she didn't feel like saying it twice. But there were still a couple of hours to kill before her ship departed, so she headed for the med bay upstairs.
"Doctor Crane?" she asked one of the med droids organizing tools in a container, seeing that the doctor wasn't at his desk.
"His presence was required in the War Room," was his monotone reply. Cora nodded and awkwardly stood by the window.
It was odd not being part of the med bay staff on Yavin anymore. She was going to miss it, she thought as she gazed towards the familiar outline of the jungle. Naos was a small, but hot planet, plagued by strong winds and unpredictable, volatile weather. No one wanted to spend any amount of time there, so they basically had to beg to get enough personnel to staff it. Cora had volunteered. She didn't care where she was going next.
She left the med bay a few minutes later, once the silence had become unbearable. She couldn't stay still very long, and waiting was still the worst. So she crossed the corridor, punched in the code and entered Cassian's room.
His scent surrounded her and tears started to gather in the corner of her eyes. She leaned on the closed door, breathing deeply, trying to keep it together. It took all her determination to turn on the lights and look around.
The room was mostly as he'd left it: a change of clothes thrown in a corner, showcasing the rush in which he'd left; an open box on the table with something missing from it; a pair of dirty boots near the bathroom door; the bed he hadn't slept in since their last night together.
Cora couldn't touch them. Although technically they belonged to her—he had no living relatives and she was deemed closest to him to inherit his stuff, making her wonder if Cassian had ever made their relationship official with the higher-ups—it was his stuff and she couldn't touch it.
At first she'd tried sleeping in his bed, but she couldn't. She thought she'd be able to feel close to him that way, make the ache in her heart dull a bit, but it was nothing but torture. There was too much of him around her and it only heightened the pain. That night she'd ran back to her own room, but she soon discovered she couldn't sleep in her own bed anymore either.
The nightmares weren't the biggest problem, although they were worse than ever before and they left her feeling exhausted. No, the good dreams were much worse, the dreams in which he came back, or never left, the dreams where he smiled like nothing had happened, and she woke up with the hope that maybe it's all just been a bad dream and he'd eventually come back. Those were the worst. Hope was the worst.
She'd eventually moved her mattress to the corner of her room, so whenever she woke up she'd instantly know that it hadn't been a dream, that nothing was okay and won't ever be. That, and she started self-medicating. Fortunately for her, she didn't even have to do it secretly, since everyone just popped sleeping pills like candy. It seemed like ever since Scarif everyone was at least half dead, so they did what they could to stay functional and there was no one left to judge them.
Eventually, she mustered the courage to stop being glued to the door and take a few steps forward. The fact that she'd only spent one night with him in that room didn't help either. Even being there felt like intruding into his space, felt a bit like trespassing. She didn't have the time to get used to being in his private quarters, and now she realized with a wave of dread, that she was leaving it all behind.
It hadn't sunk in that she actually owned all his things, from clothes to weapons to all the other things he might have had stashed. She hadn't looked through them yet and she doubted she ever would, even if she didn't have to leave. They were Cassian's and even though he wasn't here anymore, she doubted he'd approve of her snooping around.
Especially since he'd made it perfectly clear before leaving that she meant very little to him. Or, at least, not enough to want a future with her. But that didn't matter anymore either, because he was gone and she was mourning him like a lost husband. She was a mess.
She managed to sit on his bed before breaking down into sobs. Part of her didn't want to leave, didn't want to lose the small, familiar bubble where their relationship had bloomed. But they were moving to a new base anyway and soon this place would be deserted, so she'd decided to take the band aid approach and leave early, towards an unknown place.
The change of scenery would do her good, she thought. She was terribly conflicted between her wish to remember him and the need to forget in hopes of dulling the pain. The outpost had been damaged in a storm so now they had to repair and rebuild parts of it. As the only doctor on base, she hoped it would keep her busy enough not to think.
Cassian's bed still smelled of him. If she laid like that, eyes closed, face pressed in one of the pillows, she could almost imagine he was sleeping beside her. She could almost hear his breathing.
She jumped to her feet, the memory too painful to bare. She chastised herself for letting herself fall into that hole once again. People have real problems, Cora, she told herself as she went to the bathroom to wipe away the tears off her face. You've only lost a lover that didn't even care that much about you. Get yourself together!
The reflection in the mirror showed the ghost of the person that looked in the same mirrors a few weeks back. Even with a monstrous hangover and after an evening of ugly sobbing on Cassian's shoulder, she still looked better than she did now. Now she looked barely alive. She wasn't the only one, she reminded herself. After the fight on Scarif and the destruction of Alderaan, a lot of people on base had lost a loved one. Sunken cheeks and distant stares were the staple of the base nowadays. She sighed and turned off the faucet.
It was time to say goodbye. She willed herself to look around one last time, to confine it all to memory. She couldn't bring herself to take some of his as a memory. She just couldn't, even though she knew everything she left behind was going to get lost. The only thing she would be taking with her was the necklace with the only picture they had together and K2's crystal.
Eventually, she stepped out of the room. The door closed behind her and she felt like another chapter of her life had come to an end. She'd left the Empire not so long ago and built a life on Yavin, but now she had to leave this one behind as well. But this was life, she had to remind herself for the millionth time, and no matter how hard she clung on to things, they were always going to come to an end. Eventually, everyone had to die.
It wasn't just Cassian—although that was the part that hurt worse than anything and occupied her mind most of the time. She'd lost most of her friends on Scarif and the ones that were left were just as distant and traumatized as she was. She'd gained a couple of new ones, but those seemed to be part of a completely different life.
She glanced towards the med bay and was relieved to see Doctor Crane standing by his desk. He wasn't reading anything like he normally did when he had the time, instead he was gazing out the window with a faraway look in his eyes. The destruction of Alderaan and the subsequent loss of his family had taken a toll on him, his jolly demeanor now long gone.
"Ah, Cora!" he said, his face breaking into a weak smile. "I was looking for you."
"I was…" she gestured vaguely towards where she came from, but Doctor Crane nodded in understanding.
"You might want to take a seat for this."
Cora groaned, a pained expression crossing her face. "What's happened this time?" She didn't have the power to deal with any more death and destruction, but she diligently took a seat.
"Nothing bad this time," he said, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. "I hope," he added quickly, before clearing his throat and doing his best to flash her a hopeful smile. It was forced, but Cora knew he meant well. "We've got an urgent transmission from one of our squads. They got contacted on the short range comm by one of our ships."
Cora watched him anxiously as he seemed to debate whether to tell her or not. She knew she wasn't the most stable person on base, but it hurt that it seemed he didn't trust her anymore with sensitive information. Either way, she pushed the feeling deep down. It was her fault for being a bit unbalanced.
"We don't know for sure," he said with an audible exhale, and for a moment he looked even more tired than before, "not until our squad checks it out and confirms it—so I wouldn't advise getting our hopes up too soon, but…" He looked a little uncertain for a moment, but then he seemed to strengthen his resolve. "They got a distress message from Rogue One. From Cassian."