Chapter Forty-Eight

It didn't look like he had imagined when he dreamed of Ella's childhood home. He certainly hadn't anticipated just how high up she lived.

Ella had described her home as a mountainous meadow, all green and blossoming in the springtime and sparkling like a glittery wedding dress in the winter, covered in a blanket of snow.

Somehow he'd listened more to the 'meadow' than the 'mountain' description, for when Tech informed them that they wouldn't be descending as far as he'd originally thought for their arrival, he was shocked to realize that Ella's home was very high up.

"Not all Veritasians live up high," she clarified when questioned by Wander. "I live in Eberny, the second highest town on Dissilio Mountain. Most of the population is down in the valleys, like Lucerna City, the capital to the southeast. Daddy travels there once a week for his job. I'm sad we didn't make it in time for everyone to see the Renovavit Festival. There's a light show that happens at midnight as the new year begins that everyone can see from wherever they are. We often have a natural phenomenon known as the Aurora Borealis where colorful lights will shimmer in waves across the sky, like a windblown curtain. On New Years every year, they shine brighter and more vibrant than ever before."

"That sounds beautiful," Hunter sighed.

Maybe I can draw some of those lights, Echo thought to himself.

"You said to land in this field here, Ella?"

She nodded, "Yes. It's right behind my house. Or, well, the one I grew up in."

The Havoc Marauder descended like a feather on the wind, lightly touching down upon a snow-covered field, fenced in by a waist-high stone barrier. Light flurries were swirling down around them as the sun set behind the crest of Dissilio Mountain's peak, which Ella said was named Heaven's Portal.

A multi-story house shrouded in white, windows streaming warm yellow into the falling darkness, called to them all like a lighthouse. A safe haven. A sign of hope amidst a storm.

A door opened, a shadow disrupting the steady stream of light. A familiar figure stuck his head out, eyes growing wide at the sight of the approaching homecomer.

"Ella?"

With that one word loosed, four more heads stuck out, one adorned with long curly tresses just like her daughter's, and the others shorter.

"Is that…?" a young but maturing voice asked.

"Ella!" they all cried, and rushed forward, hugging their sister and daughter tightly to them. Echo looked on with a smile on his face at the reunion.

"Is that who I think it is?" came the voice that had once said to him, 'You're my son now.'

Echo raised his head to see his father-in-law, and immediately was the center of attention as his name was echoed - no pun intended - by many people.

No one moved.

Then, a little boy who was a good five inches taller than when he'd last seen him broke away from the initial cluster of affection.

"Echo? Is that you?" he asked, sounding as if someone had just told him that he could fly, unsure but hopeful.

Echo nodded, eyes darting from father to youngest son, "Yeah. It's me, Amon."

The boy's face broke into a wobbling smile and he sniffled, wiping his eyes as he ran forward. "Ori'vod!"

Echo knelt down in the snow and hugged his little brother-in-law, tears of his own gathering in his eyes. "I'm here, vod'ika. I missed you so much."

The boy's shoulders shook with a short sob and he looked back up at Echo with wonder, "They told us you were dead! How… what happened?"

Echo shook his head, "A lot of things. They had every right to think I was gone, Amon."

"When did you get back? And how?"

Echo swallowed, "Back in April, Amon."

He looked a little hurt. "Why didn't you tell us?"

The ARC sighed.

He owed them the truth, the real honest truth. But he hated the likelihood that it would change the way they saw him forever.

"I should've. I just… I wasn't the same. I… I didn't want you to see me the way I was before. I'm not… who I was then."

"What do you mean?"

"Things changed," he whispered, "and not all for the better. Too much had happened and your sister and I weren't exactly at the highest point in our marriage either. I just… I didn't want to let you down too."

Echo lowered his face, ashamed of himself after this admission. He sounded so pathetic and cowardly.

Maybe I really am.

But Amon hugged him tighter, "I don't care about any of that, Echo. You're my ori'vod no matter what. I'm happy you're alive. Did you and Ella fix the problems though?"

Echo nodded, a lump of gratitude stuck in his throat, keeping him from responding vocally.

Finally he swallowed it down enough to strain, "Yeah. We did. Mostly, she wouldn't let me hide from her anymore and we finally talked it out. That's when things got better."

In that moment, the rest of his in-laws found that they could move, and before he even knew what was happening, he was quite literally sucked into the giant multi-membered embrace.

Questions were asked, praises were uttered, and a few cries of joy were loosed into the dark night sky. Then there were introductions and more reunions.

Ella's family had met Rex, Ahsoka, Chopper, Rogue, Charge, and Vaughn before, as well as the elder medics. But Winter, Sterling, Emery, and the Bad Batch were new faces.

It was Manicha who laughed and exclaimed, "Look at us, standing out here in nearly a foot of snow like a bunch of crazies! Everyone come inside and get warm, and I'll make some more cocoa. Goodness Ella! I'd just managed to drag your brothers in from sledding when you arrived. If I'd known you were coming, I'd have made a huge pot of cocoa instead of the measly one we've got!"

"Oh, it's alright! I'll help make some," she chirped, leaning on her mother's shoulder as they walked arm in arm into the cheery home.

Echo looked around with widened eyes. So this was what it was like.

There was a fire roaring in a tall stone hearth, sending smoke and sparks flying up the chimney. All around it were huddled overstuffed chairs, some leather and some fabric, one obviously being Ella's father's for he immediately settled into it with the ease that only someone who has been practicing for many years could do. Indeed, grooves in the back had made it perfectly suitable for his relaxation.

A long table was stretched out just behind the living room, a bench on either side and a chair at the head and foot. This he deemed as smart. You could fit many more people at a table if they all shared some elbow room than you could with selected spaces.

A staircase stretched up to another level of the house, and a hallway on the other side of the room, beneath the stairs, likely led to the study, or library and music room as Ella liked to call it. If nothing had changed, a baby grand piano was still standing off to one side and two walls would be lined with nothing but books. Adjoined to that room would be her parents' room, and on the opposite hall would be a stairway to the basement and her father's office.

"Mama, really, I can help!" Ella's voice interrupted his musings. He turned to see his wife standing outside the kitchen holding a whisk in her hand.

Her mother shook her head and grabbed the whisk, gently pushing her towards him. "Go show your husband around. He's never been here before and I bet his curiosity has been piqued for an unbearably long time about the place you grew up."

Echo blushed, wondering how she had known.

Ella smiled and returned to him, standing on tiptoes to kiss him chastely. They did have an audience of younger people, after all. And her parents.

That made all the difference.

"Want to come see everything?" she asked in a voice so demure he nearly melted.

"I'd love to," he breathed, kissing her again before accepting her hand and following her around to the front of the house.

The library was just as he'd imagined. The smell of old books rose like the perfume of many ages past, all reaching out to him to fill him with tales of new and old, to grant him wisdom and imagination or to dissolve a misconception into vapor.

The piano looked old, at least older than the one that had been lost in the wreckage of the Resolute. It's matted black form glowed mysteriously in the pale moonlight that streamed through the hanging plants at the windows to dance across it like specters of long-forgotten enchantments.

"I can easily imagine you here, Ella," he confessed.

"Well good!" she said. "I was in my element in this room for many years. I used to creep down here some nights and play for no one but myself and the stars and moon, and just get lost in the music until it sewed up an appropriate dream for me."

"Poetry seems to be your mother language, angel," he noted.

Ella gave him one of her blushy smiles, and tugged his hand away.

They went down to the basement where the elder boys were trying to teach Wrecker, Crosshair, and Rex ping-pong and where Amon was regaling Vutyc and Hunter with his latest adventures through their resident snowbound forests and heights.

"Come on," Ella hissed, then drew him away. "You can come back here later. I want to show you upstairs."

So they journeyed to the second story, up to a hallway where there were four rooms, a bathroom, and a laundry room.

The first room was a guest room, occupied by a single queen bed with its head to a wall, and, at the window, a daybed which could be transformed into a sleeping place at need.

The second room was a playroom. There were two couches and game console, and a shelf with divided boxes for toys. A swinging bed hung from the ceiling, several plush pillows and blankets scattered across it so that you could barely see the mattress.

The third was a schoolroom, a bar-like desk set at hip-level along three walls, sides and back. A few chairs sat at each place, and pencils were scattered about randomly.

"Ah, so this is where you spent most of your schooldays?" he guessed.

"Mama wishes!" she laughed, "No, the boys usually worked in here. As soon as I entered, grand pranks would be acted out and no work could be done. I did help them with their school sometimes, but most often I was in my room at my desk."

He nodded. Ella was a quiet person, and it made sense that she would want to isolate herself from distractions to buckle down and study.

"When do I see that room?" he asked, smirking to himself.

She squeaked and shook her head. "Soon. I want to show you the boys' room first."

So he sighed and followed her so the last room.

"Huh. I guess bunks aren't just a clone thing?" he chuckled upon seeing that two of the walls had built in bunks, four on each side.

She shrugged, "I think it's a kid thing, to be honest. Every kid wants a bunk bed at one time or another. I did once, and slept in here a week before deciding I liked my own bed ever so much better."

"Ah. Wait, you have three brothers. Why eight beds?" he queried.

She shrugged, sitting on one. "Guests. Many times people would come up to visit and it would be late by the time they'd meant to be heading back. So we made sure we had plenty of space."

"Gotcha. Makes sense."

"The basement has more space to sleep, believe it or not," she informed. "I think everyone will have a bed of their own tonight."

Echo took one more look around, then nodded at her. "Okay. I wanna see your room now."

Ella flushed and dragged him to the end of the hallway to what looked like a closet door. Opening it, he saw that it was no closet at all, but actually concealed a flight of stairs.

Never letting go of his hand, she led him up the spiraling steps, running her other hand over familiar walls and windowsills.

Finally they stepped up onto the landing and there was her room.

Ella had told him before that her room was in a garret, high above the rest of the house, and that she sometimes pretended that she was a princess in a tower, and would stand on the small balcony and watch the horizon for her 'prince' to come to her.

"I'm a hopeless romantic," she'd admitted then, somewhat ashamedly. Why she would ever feel the need to apologize for the deep yearnings and dreams of her soul he never understood.

At least not until he heard some other people talking about the kind of girl that society was molding to be of the highest praises. Phrases like, "Self-governing, austere, unsentimental," seemed to be the common desire of any 'respect-able' woman.

But why remove your heart? Why demolish that sacred root of who you are and what makes you light up with a foreign light? he wondered. What was so strong about that?

Shaking off these rather disturbing thoughts, he focused in the room his beloved had spent so many years cultivating the gardens of her heart within.

The walls were a springy green color, fresh like the breath of rain upon lush grass, and over them spiraled tendrils of blossoming vines, white, yellow, pink, and blue flowers budding and blooming even in the moonlight. Some parts of them seemed to shimmer and glow in the darkness, unencumbered by the absence of sunshine but rather expanding through it with a new type of beauty.

With one side and the head against two walls, and a slope slanting down so that you must watch your head entering or leaving, Ella's bed was covered in a white comforter sprayed with lavender and pink posy sprigs. At the foot was an old chest, worn with use and centuries of travel. What stories it must hold within the frayed leather locks and tarnished brass buckles.

Beneath a long window was the aforementioned desk, and just to the right of that was a long wall of books. A sliding ladder stood its longtime watch at one end, keeping guard of the sacred texts the mistress of this room held dear to her heart.

Not much else could really capture the eye, except for the balcony, the double doors of which were sandwiched between the book wall and bed frame. Out of the warped glass - age hadn't shattered them just yet - he could see the largest, fluffiest snowflakes he'd ever seen making a graceful descent to the earth. Strange patterns, almost like tears, were illusions on the oaken floor boards, dark shadows putting on a magic show as if to turn the room into a snow globe.

"Well… this is it," Ella breathed, spinning around in the middle of it before carefully sinking to her bed.

Echo came and sat by her, brushing her hair back from her face with a delicate hand. "Your room is a piece of your soul, I think, Ella. I can't tell you what it is exactly. It's just… it's you. I feel like I've walked into the doorway of your heart."

"This isn't just my place anymore, you know," she whispered. "It's yours too. You have a key, and so do I."

"I hope you never lock me out," he sighed, worry suddenly rearing its unwelcome head.

But Ella shook her head and laughed, "Don't worry about that. I'd rather we remodel than do that. I'd rather break the lock than keep you away."

With these words, she scooted over, making room next to him. She sighed, "They had to replace my mattress, I suppose. It's all new and not cushy."

"Ah, well," he sighed. "I don't think we'll need it anymore either way."

"Well, yes, but—"

He cut her off with his lips on hers, and she melted into him like the frozen masterpieces that fell just on the other side of the walls.

The couple made their way back down an hour or two later, rosy flushes on their cheeks, love in their eyes, and somewhat guilty smiles on their faces.

Fortunately, very few people remained awake. Rex and Ahsoka were there, as were Wander and Vutyc, but the Batch and Winter had already made their way to the beds they'd been given, and Ella's brothers had done the same either the same time, shortly before, or moments after.

•~§~•

Echo was up long before the others the next morning. He'd left his wife sleeping in the bed of her youth, which was quite comfortable despite it being a different mattress.

If only that had granted him the peace of a good night's rest.

For some reason, perhaps the different bed or strange surroundings, his demons had chosen to strike tonight.

He couldn't get it out of his head.

The images.

The smells of sweat and burning flesh, lasers.

He couldn't erase the memory of watching his own body be broken apart in so many ways, or tamp down the fear he'd woken up with every day of knowing that it was just a matter of time until they would come to try out some another strange and untested method of anguish upon him until he wished it were possible to just let go, or to pinch himself and wake up from that nightmarish reality.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, and not wanting to deprive his wife of the serenity he'd been denied, Echo tiptoed his way downstairs to the kitchen. Maybe some water and a quiet moment to himself would give him some easement.

After quietly opening and shutting the cabinets to find a glass, Echo padded to the fridge water filter and began to fill his cup, running his other hand through his hair, trying to block out the memories of heat too great to endure searing into his flesh, darkness, the scent of fear.

Once upon a time, he'd thought that writers were just being poetic when they described terror as a scent.

How wrong he had been, for now he knew they weren't exaggerating. It was painfully true, and the odor was forever etched into his memory intimately, like the marks his captors had left on his body.

Water touching his hand made him start and he cursed softly as he realized that he'd gotten so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed that the glass was overflowing. A puddle was steadily growing on the hardwood floor at his feet, and streams of water trickled down the fridge and his arm.

Setting the glass aside, he sought out a dish towel he could use to clean up his mess. After locating one, he was coming back to clean up when he was suddenly crashing onto his back.

The air was immediately knocked out of his lungs and he tensed up in terror as he realized he couldn't breathe. Panic choked up his throat and he tried to gasp but couldn't. Tightness surrounded his chest, squeezing like a vice grip about his heart, which hammered as his mind decided to remind him of another time he'd felt like this.

/ Gulping for air around the hold on his windpipe, Echo thrashed helplessly. The hard stone floor at his back did nothing to aid his desperate attempts at breaking free from the stranglehold. If he'd had the use of his feet, or perhaps even the stubs of his legs, he could've sprung up and away in a swift maneuver that Commander Blitz had dutifully drilled into him during his days training to be an ARC.

But then again, maybe it wouldn't have mattered. He was weak enough already, even without the oxygen deprivation. It wasn't like he was in the same shape as when he'd gotten here. He'd be lucky to even lift a limb.

Black and red swirled over his vision, questions he'd hidden the answers to repeating in an endless mantra.

This time they wanted to know about some sort of Republic codes. He knew them, of course, but they didn't have to know for sure. He wouldn't give them that.

The choking let up and he heaved a deep, sweet breath of air, his burning lungs rejoicing at the gift. He didn't move, and couldn't had he tried. He was much too exhausted and his body was too consumed with filling its empty air tanks to even twitch.

The mercy of air was short live as, without preamble, white-hot agony filled his every fiber and seemed to riddle his soul with thorns and shards of broken glass.

Echo screamed. \*\

"Echo?" a familiar voice broke through the suffocating thickness that was stopping his ears.

Two hands were grasping his wrists in a loose lock, and he was suddenly aware that he was on his back, staring up into the face of a man with steel-grey hair and dark brown eyes.

Mr. Starrow.

"Are you alright, son?" Ella's father asked concernedly. "You seemed to be somewhere else for a minute."

His cheeks flushed hotly as he realized he'd just gone into a full blown panic and his father-in-law had witnessed it.

I hope I didn't make a lot of noise!

He chuckled, "No, my boy. Other than the house-shaking crash from your fall, no one was disturbed by noises."

Echo cringed. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Although," he continued, "there are some things you were repeating that I may need to ask you about. But first, let me help you up," the older man said, offering his hand.

With a resolved sigh, Echo accepted his aid and groaned as he stood. He'd have bruises tomorrow surely.

"Are you alright? It sounded like a hard fall."

"Yes sir. Sorry, I made a mess and when I was coming back to clean it up I slipped. Didn't mean to wake you."

But the older man brushed it off, grabbing another towel to help him clean up. "Don't worry about it. Your wife took quite a few tumbles when she was growing up as well. We used to hear a crash and 'I'm okay!' and everyone would know what it'd been. What were you doing up at this hour anyway?" he continued, standing and throwing the towels on the countertop. "I thought for sure that you and Ella would be asleep by now."

The ARC sighed. "I… I just had trouble sleeping, sir. I didn't want to wake Ella up, so I just decided I'd get some water and see if I was any sleepier by the time I was finished. I got a little… distracted, and that's why the mess. Sorry."

"It's alright. Come sit down," his father-in-law invited, grabbing his own glass of water and setting it on a table beside his armchair. "I'll get a fire started and we'll see if we can get tired again."

Echo swallowed and nodded, taking the seat opposite him. It was then that Mr. Starrow's words really sunk in.

He'd been repeating things under his breath. He'd likely said something entirely embarrassing, perhaps pleading for mercy.

The striking of a match brought his eyes back up from his lap. So far, Mr. Starrow had said nothing of the matter except that he might need clarification, and he was getting antsy waiting.

Unable to bear the considerate silence a moment longer, he whispered, "You said I was saying things."

Mr. Starrow cast an indiscernible expression in his direction before continuing his present task. "You were interrogated I presume?"

Echo hesitated a moment before answering, in a voice so embarrassingly quiet, "Yes sir."

"That was why you couldn't sleep? Nightmares?"

He could only repeat his former affirmation.

There was a pause, and Echo tried to decide what to do next, when Mr. Starrow continued.

"When I found you, you were speaking to someone who wasn't there, saying you wouldn't tell them anything, or something of the notion. Nothing loud, and no one else heard," he informed blankly, blowing on the small sprigs of flame to encourage them to bloom and spread.

The younger man hesitated before admitting, "I… have struggled with some flashbacks and PTSD ever since I returned. Some things that happened there… they just stick with you."

"I can imagine," the elder replied, then eyed his leg knowingly. "They do some damage to your limbs?"

Echo looked down to realize he'd been kneading the muscle above his right kneecap without knowing it. "I… yes sir."

He sat back as the fire crackled, waiting, it seemed, for him to explain. Or not. It was a patient waiting, one willing to go both ways, a choice given to hear either something or nothing.

"I ask because," he explained, "you asked someone not to take your legs."

Echo sighed. "I… I didn't lose my limbs in the explosion."

"Well, I can see that."

"No. I mean… these aren't… I did lose my original legs. These… I underwent a regrowth surgery when I came back. I'd lost… a lot. They took a lot."

Here he cut himself off before the quiver in his voice could worsen, squeezing his eyes shut to attempt at ridding his mind of the horrific images that had bubbled to the surface from their eternal place just slightly below.

He wanted to banish them from his thoughts. Wanted to take a sledgehammer to them and smash the memories from existence, leaving nothing behind but dust to be swept away.

His legs flared unhelpfully with phantom pain, a bone-deep ache that throbbed with every heartbeat, and as his heart raced in his chest, the tempo was nothing near merciful.

"Take your time, son," Mr. Starrow's voice bled through the anguish, and he anchored himself to the kindness in it.

Drawing in a steadying breath, he sighed and just told himself to relax. He tried to remind himself that the pain was his body remembering that it had been hurt before, and was reliving those moments out of confusion and elevated anxiety.

This helped a little. Not very much, but just enough to distract him until the pain ebbed into something more bearable.

Mr. Starrow waited for him to smile at him tautly, barely even a smile at all, before nodding at him to continue.

"You don't have to say more if you don't want to, Echo," he said, not unkindly. "I will always be here to listen, of course, but if you aren't comfortable then I will not be offended."

Echo nodded, "Th-thank you. I… I'm not uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable telling you, I mean," he amended after a wry look from Mr. Starrow. "I want you to know. For there not to be anything… I… it's just…"

"We're in no rush, Echo, and you don't need to go into any more detail than you are able right now. We always have later, and you aren't under any obligation."

At this he was able to smile a little. Then he licked his lips and sighed. "I need to tell you now while I'm already started. I don't know if I'll be able to later and… if you don't mind, I think I need to because otherwise I'll feel like I'm always hiding something from you. And I don't want that."

"Take your time then," he said.

Then nodded.

That little nod seemed to remove his hands from the reins of his speech and the truth spilled out as if it were water gushing from a torn waterskin.

Echo told him what he really happened on that mission to the Citadel. About the explosion and his vow to return to Ella, no matter what.

He told him about the tauntingly large cell and how it mocked him, showing that there was such space to be roamed that was inaccessible to him.

He told him how his silence under interrogation or failure to see through small tasks by his captors had resulted in the removal of his legs, little by little, and then his arm.

He told about his horror when he learned from the mocking Count Dooku that the 501st had a sith wannabe on the inside, and his confusion when he'd returned later to do nothing but choke and electrocute him. How he'd been relieved to discover that his impromptu and seemingly meaningless torture was because the Sith Lord's apprentice had failed. The 501st was very much intact, and his friends were now out of danger.

He cringed as he told the basic memories he had of the transfer to Skako Minor and the fully-conscious brain and limb surgery, how he remembered everything and would pass out only to jerk awake and find himself on the table once again, drowning in a pain so thick and raw and all-consuming he thought he was in hell.

Then the cold of stasis. The feeling that someone was digging through his mind. The helplessness.

That first free breath and the relief of seeing his brother's face again and knowing that his mind and all the treasures of knowledge and memories within it were now safe.

Finally, he came clean about his struggles to reacquaint himself with life and marriage. His stupid cowardice and how he'd almost broken his marriage with his fear and avoidance. He did nothing to spare himself, and braced himself for overwhelming disdain, though Mr. Starrow's face was surprisingly placid when he risked a peek at him.

When he finally managed to shut himself up, the silence, previously consumed by his incessant ramblings, was deafening.

The creaking of the old armchair alerted him before the footsteps did that Mr. Starrow was approaching. Ashamed, he couldn't even meet his eyes.

Two hands were on his shoulders, and he found himself standing on his feet.

"I'm sorry, sir," he breathed. "I… I—"

"—Echo," Mr. Starrow sighed, tightening his grip on him slightly. "What's troubling you now?"

He shook his head, sneering at his own actions. "You should hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" he asked confusedly.

"I acted like a coward, sir," Echo choked with deep sorrow. "I hurt her; practically abandoned her, and when I was back I made her feel like I didn't love her anymore."

Echo squeezed his eyes shut. He liked to tell himself that it was just fatigue that made his eyes water, but he knew he was wrong.

"I… I messed up." His voice was barely audible, and he shifted nervously. "I hurt her. I broke my promise to you. I'm so sorry."

"Hey."

Echo brought his head back up. He couldn't seem to hold Mr. Starrow's intense gaze. His eyes were so like his daughters, piercing through flesh and bone into the very soul. Cleansing but overwhelmingly powerful. Almost intimidating.

Definitely intimidating. At least on him.

Those eyes commanded respect.

Yet in them lay that same gentleness that spilled from Ella's. It was more reserved here, mixed with experience and time-bestowed wisdom that would grow in her eyes too, but after the wheels of age turned round her and settled within her irises.

The gentleness and patience had a strange but welcomed effect on him, and Echo found that his heart rate was slowing a little.

"I forgive you."

Tears threatened to spill and he shook his head, trying not to have to sniffle and give himself away.

Mr. Starrow smiled, then continued, "Marriage isn't easy. The first years are known to be some of the hardest you go through together. It's a miracle that Manicha and I made it through our first decade. And that was without dealing with severe trauma, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Did you ever stop loving her?"

Echo shook his head, "No. I… I was just pretty sure she wouldn't love me anymore if…"

He couldn't continue, remembering those dark days of self-inflicted isolation from the warmth of his wife's healing love.

"Well, you were wrong, and that's a good thing, right?"

Echo nodded. "Yeah. I just… I wish I'd not been so hesitant. I wish I'd just told her in the beginning."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, as my father used to say," Ella's father chuckled. "Echo."

Echo looked up at him.

"I'm glad you're back. I thought I'd never see Ella smile again after we all thought you were gone. And I know that it hasn't been easy reacclimating to… relative normalcy."

Echo huffed out a laugh. It hadn't been. It still wasn't.

"But I'm glad you're home, son," his father-in-law continued.

Son.

The warmth that trickled over at that sweet word wasn't entirely unwelcome, and through he swiped at his eyes as quickly and gracefully as he could (which wasn't saying much) he smiled.

A huge weight had fallen from his shoulders.

It was so special to be called someone's son. For someone to want him safe and home.

Mr. Starrow hugged him tightly for a moment, giving him enough time to compose himself, then let go.

"Now," he sighed. "I want to show you something. Grab some warm clothes and meet me down here. Oh, and can you drive a snowmobile?"

•~§~•

Ella woke up to sunlight dancing across her face in a tickling warmth like angel's breath. The bed was empty, except for herself, her husband having vacated it for quite some time, she knew.

Sighing, she sat up and began to make her way to the bathroom when she suddenly quickened her pace with some urgency and had only dropped to her knees and shoved her face over the bowl of the toilet when she lost last night's morsels.

Leaning her head against the cool porcelain, she groaned. Really, sweetheart, I'm glad you're alive, but I could've done without this part of pregnancy.

Despite her steadily calming nausea, she smiled. She was pregnant. She and Echo would be parents.

A little morning sickness was surely worth that.

After rinsing her mouth out and washing her face, Ella put on a pair of jeans and an airy pink sweater, tying her hair up in a loose ponytail. Then, after making sure that her second layer of fluffy socks were secure, she padded downstairs to the kitchen.

Ella couldn't help but smile as she took in the home she'd grown up in so full of life and joy.

Around the crackling fireplace we're gathered Olvet, Crosshair, Tech, Vaughn, Charge, and Rogue, all playing a very competitive game of Anomia.

Her mother sat with Ahsoka, Chopper, and Amon at the bar, watching the intensely partaken fun.

Thalis was speaking to Rex, Hunter, and Wrecker about something to do with hunting while they stuffed their faces with the waffles Mama had made.

Outside the window she could just glimpse five figures pelting each other with snowballs, and knew that her medic boys and the two shinies we're having it out together.

"Look who finally woke up!" Olvet crowed, though he squawked a moment later when his teasing cost him the card he could've claimed if he'd stayed focused.

Ella grinned at this little moment of tame justice and sighed, "Good morning, all. Sorry for sleeping in so late."

Mama rolled her eyes, "Nonsense. It was your first night home and you are in no way obligated to rise earlier than you want to, especially when you're visiting."

"Hmm, if only I could've heard that same thing in my teen years," Ella laughed, grabbing a few sticks of bacon and a small stack of waffles before sitting next to her mom, who rolled her eyes at the comment but didn't jab back. She was too happy to have her only daughter safely home.

"You're probably wondering where your husband and father are," her mother continued.

"Hopefully not challenging each other to a duel over something?" she asked around a sticky mouth of waffle.

"Nothing of the sort. Only… were you planning on staying here? For a while, I mean?"

She swallowed and sighed. "I don't see how we could. I want to, very much. I want all of us to have kind of a home base here. Veritas is small enough and pliable enough to not really be an interest for the Empire. I've seen the rankings. Most people think we're just a bunch of country bumpkins who do nothing but farm, smoke spice, or moonshine spotchka. Fortunately, we know that isn't true, but the industry is private enough and not so well known as to attract attention."

"As much as I love you, Ellie, I'm not sure that staying here long term will be the best for all of us."

"You mean…?"

"In the same house," her mother hurriedly clarified. "Which is why your father and Echo went to—"

At that moment, the door opened and through it came two red-cheeked, beaming faces, two pairs of feet ditching snow-laden boots and arms shrugging off crystal-occupied coats. When he was free from the polar wear, Echo jogged over to his wife and grabbed her up in his arms, spinning her around.

Ella squealed in surprise, giggling at the reckless joy she saw in his eyes.

"What is it? What?" she all but shrieked, trying to tone down her volume for the sake of the others - namely Hunter, who easily developed migraines due to loud and shrill noises.

Spinning just one more time, Echo set his utterly befuddled wife on her feet and took both her hands. "Your family is amazing, that's what! You know what your grandmother left you in her will?"

Ella shook her head. "Her painted birds? The gilded books grandfather promised me? Her starburst flower ring?"

He shook his head, "Her home. Ella, she left you - and by extension us - the house I dreamed about! The one I told you about when you asked me so long ago!"

Ella gasped.

To remember Gran Rosemary's house was to think of sweet tea and delicate tea cakes and sandwiches on her huge wrap around porch in the spring and summer. Of a big beautiful white house on a hill with a gazebo in the back next to the Gemmo river which wove it's way through fields of delicate lavender, violet, sweet pea pink, and wedding day white larkspur, purling in glittering, shimmery veils over smooth pebbles. Willow trees that gathered at the smooth lake where it had originated, a trembling but genteel waterfall, so thin it was a gossamer sheet that whooshed down and fled on its way to streak down the mountainside like the train of a runaway bride's misty dress. And high up on the ridge that overlooked it all, over the clouds it seemed sometimes, the blanket of sparkling rhinestone dew, which gently revived the sweet posies and buttercups and demure sage.

"It's ours?" Ella found herself asking in a voice that didn't seem to be quite her own, so soft and breathless it was over a suddenly lulled room.

Daddy nodded. "All yours. And there's plenty of land behind it. A good thousand acres or so. There will be plenty of room for any family that might want to relocate here." He nodded to Rex at this and the captain gave him a stunned and grateful smile.

Ella couldn't believe it. She was going to have a real house with her husband. With her Echo. Not an apartment in a careless city or a room on a destroyed starship, or even the one they'd certainly been comfortable in over the past few months on the Havoc Marauder.

No.

A real home.

A place they would watch their children grow up and not fear that they'd run into the path of desensitized speeder drivers.

A place where she could share the joy and peace she had been privileged with in her childhood with her little ones and, possibly better, her starved-for-innocence husband who ate up such simplicity with no little excitement or enjoyment.

They were going to have a home.

Together.

Echo caught her lips in his, then drew back and licked his mouth. "You taste like syrup."

She giggled. "I was eating breakfast."

"Oh! Can I have some?"

"We left early," Daddy explained.

Ella nodded and pushed two of her four waffles onto her husband's plate. "Here. Get yourself some syrup and butter. I'll get Daddy a plate and you some bacon. So keep your paws off mine or I'll have to resort to drastic measures!"

Echo chuckled. "Just hurry back, love. I'm getting tempted."

She laughed and sauntered away, sending him a shy smile as she arranged a plate for her father, head still spinning from the surprise.

Absently, she thought about the life growing in her womb and smiled. What amazing timing the Maker had!

Now all she had to do was figure out how to tell her obliviously wonderful husband.

As she went to sit down, her eyes caught the calendar on the fridge and she began to smile slowly.

Ahsoka caught her look and beamed, knowing that the scheming could now rekindle.

Yes. I think I know what to do now.

•~§~•

•~§~•

Sorry for how long it's been since I'vewritten! Somehow the paragraphs didn't hook up correctly and I didn't want to force anything. Thank yousovery much for your patience and amiability! I hope your Christmas was a very merry one - if it wasn't it would be such a travesty and I think it should be redone just to give joy a second chance. You never know! Second time could be the charm!

We're getting so close to the finish line now! It's bittersweet for me. This has been an incredible journey for me and I'm grateful to all of you for your constant encouragement and eagerness. These things truly make a writer's life so much brighter, especially on some days when she might be weighed down and doubtful. Thank you ever so much!

I'm going to put a cutoff date on the poll now to be on New Year'sEve. If you haven't submitted your vote for the next story by 12:59 of the last day of this incredibly roller coastering year, then I am sorry my friend - the poll will be closed for 2021.

I'm tentatively excited to see how this coming year treats us all. I hope it will at least possess some mercy. We've suffered enough, don't you think? However, I challenge you to remember at least five things that were good that happened this year. Let's not let this go to waste. Just because there was plenty of darkness, it doesn't necessarily mean that there was a complete absence of light.

I hope you have a spectacular New Year! My hopes and prayers are with you all and I send you, as a final parting gift from the me of 2020,

Love, Peace, andLittleBitOfGrace