A/N: Hey you guys! Thanks for sticking with this story! I'm almost done writing. There are only a couple of chapters and the Epilogue left to write and I must say that I feel kind of sad about that. I really love writing this story and getting to explore those characters together with you and of course with AuroraLynne, whose contributions make me want to sit down and write every day. I mean, her drawings are sitting right in front of me at this very moment!

Anyway… thank you for reading and special thanks to my friend Caro, who is one hell of a beta!

Chapter 9

Who He is

Ever since they had arrived here they'd had breakfast and dinner together as often as possible. The droids preparing the meals had been an extravagance he had allowed himself to have, because these times, set aside for him to spend with his family, were more valuable than he could say and he tried to be with them as often as possible. Of course there were times, when he couldn't get away from the office on time for dinner, when he had to work late or even be off world for a certain amount of time to meet with people who could protect him and his operation from the Republic. It wasn't as if the Republic had any authority on this world, or any other from which they procured their goods, but they needed to trade for some essential effects they couldn't get produced. For those items, they needed business contacts even within the Republic and that meant that he sometimes had to go off world for negotiations, sometimes even with his contact within the Senate and those trips could be counted among the most dangerous ones. At least, until now, they had been able to remain hidden, and they just needed to stay as much in hiding as possible. Their operation was too small, too insignificant to even matter to the Republic, but that also meant that they had no chance of standing up to the Republic's military, if it ever came to that. Meelan wasn't even entirely sure that was what he wanted anymore. If they ever, for some inscrutable reason, came to power again, he'd have to give up those rare times he got to spend with Morap, Nataleeh and their unborn child.

Somehow he didn't want things to become like that though. He had gotten used to having his family around and the more time he spent with them, the more impossible it seemed to him to ever abandon this fulfilling lifestyle. Of course, there were disadvantages to hiding and setbacks occurred almost every day, but those things never managed to diminish the joy he got out of being with his wife and son every day. Even after this week, in which he had experienced the most horrible day in his entire life, he felt deep inside that he wouldn't exchange this moment for all the Empire's glory.

He looked up from the data he had been going over on his datapad without really taking anything in. How could he possibly concentrate on the amounts of spice they had been sent that day. He knew from previous studies that the profit they'd get out of selling this batch of the drug on various planets in the galaxy, would be enough to keep them going for a month or so and may even buy them some much needed technical supplies. He had never approved of drugs like these, but selling them had kept them all fed so far, especially since his contact in the Senate seemed to be especially fond of the kind of spice they were able to procure. But for now, none of that mattered. All that mattered was his family. Nataleeh, sitting in a chair by the window, her legs tucked underneath her, was looking out of the window, as if she were looking out for the Askija, which would never appear in the night sky again. Meelan had not regretted killing the beast and its young. Morap had been in danger, and though he understood his son's distress, he hadn't addressed the topic again. He knew that Morap understood why it had happened and that the incident was merely a consequence of his actions. But still... Meelan had never punished his son for stepping out of line before. This was new. Confining his son to their living quarters was something he had never thought he'd have to enforce, but Morap needed to appreciate that he'd have to have some privileges taken from him for endangering not only himself, but also one of his playmates, whom he very well might one day command. That, at least, was Meelan's wish, though he felt that Morap might not be up to the task, just like Meelan's brother had never been made to serve the Order. But then again, their operation was different from the Order in some way and maybe Morap might even outgrow his sensitivity. Maybe. One day.

An exaggerated sigh from the table made Nataleeh look up and meet his gaze. She raised an eyebrow, asking him to take care of their son. Meelan nodded ever so slightly, put down the datapad and got up. He could see Morap sitting behind Nataleeh's chair at the table, his hair as untidy as ever and his head bent low over the datapad in front of him. As Meelan walked past Nataleeh, he stroked her belly, which had grown enormously within the last week, though as of yet he still had to feel their unborn child move. Nataleeh grabbed his hand and quickly pressed it against her lips, before letting go of him and gently nudging him in the direction of their son. Morap had been confined to their family's rooms these last couple of days and as far as Meelan knew, he hadn't tried to sneak out once. Morap wasn't the kind of boy who'd test his limits and disobey rules. That was exactly why Morap running off into the forest and dragging Mara Blanche with him was so atypical for him and the fact that he had scared Meelan out of his wits. Punishing his son by grounding him, was the only thing he could think of to make Morap think about what he had done. Personally, he had never thought he'd be this mild with his son. Ever. He wasn't a short-tempered man exactly, but he was fully aware that he was as harsh as he needed to be to survive. He felt like he was pampering Morap, but he couldn't help himself. It was like he was a different man, the moment he stepped through the door of their family's apartment. Somehow he was glad that he was.

As he approached Morap, his son grabbed a fistful of his hair and sighed again. Meelan put his hands on the boy's shoulders and peered over his head at the text Morap was reading. Meelan and a couple of other First Order officers had been able to save the Academy's textbooks and other books from the Order's and the Empire's archives after they had been forced into exile. The books were used in the lessons the children on base received from various officers, but Meelan knew that, while Morap was a good student, he wasn't particularly interested in history and right now Morap was reading a historic record on the Empire's beginnings and the emerging of the Rebel Alliance.

"What's wrong?" Meelan asked and sat down next to Morap, who looked up to meet his father's gaze with tired, reddish eyes. How long had he been reading? Meelan felt a sudden twinge in his chest. Had he been too harsh? But how else was Morap to understand the gravity of what he had done?

Morap pulled a face and looked down at the datapad in front of him with a resigned shrug. "Nothing." But it didn't sound or look like it was nothing at all.

"Morap...", Meelan said quietly and he sent out a silent thank you to Nataleeh, as she got up and went to their bedroom to give them some privacy. "I know, you're probably still mad at me because of what happened, but you can still talk to me, you know?"

Morap sighed again and shook his head. "I'm not mad at you," he said, as he crossed his arms on top of the table and turned his head to stare out the window. "I know why you did it and why I'm stuck in here and that's fine." Meelan hadn't expected this. Morap was clever, of course, but Morap was only nine years old after all. Shouldn't he be angry? Why wasn't he?

Morap shifted uncomfortably in his chair and it seemed like he really wanted to get something off his chest. For a moment it seemed to Meelan like he would finally say, why he had left the base on his own, but then Morap just slapped the back of his hand against the datapad. "This all sounds so picture perfect, doesn't it?", he said angrily. "If the Empire was so great, then why did anyone rebel in the first place?"

Meelan raised his eyebrows and knew exactly what would have happened to him, had he dared ask this question at the Academy. He felt eyes trained on him and looked up to see Nataleeh wink at him conspiratorially. She knew her son and she knew him and of course she was aware that he would never, not even under the most dire circumstances employ the Academy's methods of punishment against his son for asking a perfectly sound question. Meelan sighed and Nataleeh vanished from view again, her voice softly humming a lullaby in the room next door. She did that occasionally, now that she was pregnant, and it calmed Meelan like he never thought it would. She didn't even realize that she was doing it and that made Meelan think that she had done it as well when she had been pregnant with Morap, while he, Meelan, had been fighting for the First Order. Did that humming have anything to do with why Morap was so soft in so many ways? Meelan gently brushed through his son's reddish brown hair.

"Well," he said. "You have to realize that those records in front of you were written down by the Empire." It was hard saying this, but he knew that they were true. Of course the Empire portrayed things the way it was most suitable for their purpose. "But of course no government is perfect and there will always be people opposing it, even if it's a good government bringing order, structure and peace to a chaotic galaxy. The Clone Wars were destructive, but the Empire managed to end this terrible war and needless bloodshed."

Morap pondered over this for a while, his brow furrowed, but Meelan could tell that his son wasn't entirely convinced. "But the Republic destroyed the First Order as well, didn't they? Why, if the Order was supposed to bring about the best government possible?"

Meelan felt his throat get tight. Morap had never questioned the First Order or the Empire before and his son's doubts really got to him. This wasn't how it was supposed to be! "Morap...", he began, before he realized that his hands were clenched into fists. No, this couldn't happen. Morap deserved the discussion he wanted. He needed to see, needed to understand that living in a world shaped by Emperial and First Order structures was a life worth living. "You are save here, aren't you? Among the people here? You don't want strange species here, do you? They can be very dangerous, you know?"

Meelan watched Morap drawing circles on the tabletop with his index finger. Somehow he didn't think Morap fully understood what his father was telling him.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I've never met anyone who wasn't human. And you do business with other species, don't you? So they're part of our lives already, aren't they?"

Morap grunted dismissively. "Just because we employ them doesn't mean we can trust them. They're different from us, so we have to watch out for ourselves in this galaxy. We have to be stronger than they are and we can be. We are. Even the Republic's new Chancellor Casterfo is human. Even the Republic knows that humans are superior to all other species."

This argument finally seemed to get through to Morap, who nodded slightly and finally turned to look at his father. To Meelan, it had been the strongest argument for the importance of the restoration of the Empire, when he had been an officer in the First Order. Protecting humans and their obligation to end the chaos spreading through the galaxy. It was their duty, their reason for existing. Of course, when the Order had been destroyed by the Republic, Meelan's priorities had changed. The only thing he could think of was taking care of his family and that meant getting as far away from the Republic and the Resistance as possible and trying to set up a society in which he and other officers from the Order could live in peace. Meelan got up and went over to the low window sill, on which a couple of old photographs and drawings in beautiful picture frames were sitting. He picked up two of them and carried them over to his son. Sitting down next to Morap, Meelan placed the picture frames on the table in front of his son, pushing the datapad out of the way.

Morap rolled his eyes and looked at his father with a annoyed look on his face. "I know those," he said complaining and Meelan couldn't help but smile at the expression on his son's face.

"I know you do," Meelan answered. "Still." He pointed to the older photograph, which had been taken shortly before Meelan had had to leave to fight the Resistance. He hadn't seen his family after this for a whole year. It showed little Morap on Nataleeh's arms, his toddler hand resting lightly on his mother's shoulder and with a smile on his face, which warmed Meelan's heart even now. "This photo reminded me that I needed to come back to you and get you to safety. You and your mommy." He smiled lightly. He'd never have called his own mother by that name, she had never been the type for this sort of affection, but Nataleeh was different. Always had been, really. He had only really gotten to know her after the Order's fall, had gotten to know how well she complemented his own character. He looked at himself in that photograph. At the stern look in his eyes, the barely visible smile, so unlike his wife's open one and the trust in his son's eyes. He had been a different man back then, but not entirely different from the person he was now. "The Resistance and the Republic never wanted to be safe, really. They prefer chaos, but that was exactly why I needed to get the two of you out of there. To make sure that you stay safe and free among our own people. We have to stick together." He gently put an arm around Morap's narrow shoulders. He needed his son to understand why he did what he did and why upholding the Empire's ideals was important. Meelan felt his son relax and pulled him closer. "The Empire was destroyed by chaos and we're all that is left." Pointing at the second photograph, Meelan pulled his son closer to him. It had been taken some time after they had escaped the Republic, with the help of a self timer function on one of the camera's they had picked up. The paper for the photograph had been hard to come by, but Meelan knew that Nataleeh preferred printed pictures over digital ones. The picture showed their small family in a moment of something resembling crazy ecstasy. He remembered the staged, playful fight he'd had with his boy shortly beforehand. He was the one holding Morap this time, Morap's arm wrapped tightly around his neck and this alone showed how close he and his son had become during the time of their exile. Morap, wearing a simple, light blue shirt, his hair as untidy as always, was laughing loudly, pushing his body up, almost losing balance, but fully trusting his mother to keep him upright. His mouth was wide open and Meelan could still hear Morap's happy laughter. It hadn't changed much. Nataleeh was standing behind Morap, providing much needed support for her son. Her smile was as beautiful and as intriguing as ever. When he had seen the photograph for the first time, he had been surprised at the look of utter bliss and relaxation on his own face. Somehow losing the war, even if it meant allowing the galaxy to drift back into utter chaos, had brought these moments about and Meelan was glad that he could live in peace with his family now, even if that meant that they'd have to remain in hiding for the rest of their lives. "But we will pull through. Maybe, some day, you will be able to achieve more than I have, but for now I'm happy that we can be together and that you're safe... unless you decide to run off again, that is."

Morap scoffed and smiling, he slipped off the chair to wrap his arms around Meelan. Pulling his son close to his chest, Meelan closed his eyes, relishing in his boy's presence. He would never have thought that anyone could make him as happy as his family did.

"I won't," Morap said quietly and let go of him.

"Maybe starting tomorrow, I can take you along every once in a while. I think it might do you some good to understand what we're doing here." No, Meelan would not let Morap off the hook that easily. One hug wasn't enough to soften him up, but he realized that studying books would not be enough to make Morap understand why maintaining their way of life was important. He wanted Morap to follow in his footsteps, even though he knew that Morap would never be like him. Morap had too much of his uncle in him and though Meelan knew that eventually he might be able to force Morap into the roles, Meelan wanted him to fill out, he was unwilling to break him. For one Nataleeh would never forgive Meelan, if he did, but neither would he be able to forgive himself. He had allowed his brother to slip from his grasp and get himself killed and this wouldn't happen with his son.

Before Morap could answer, Meelan heard Nataleeh clear her throat in the doorway and he turned around to face her. She was leaning in the doorway to their bedroom, her belly protruding into the room like a trophy she was showing off. The view made him smile, but when he saw the stern look on her face as she looked at Morap, he felt his heart sink.

"Has any of you seen my crystal? The one on display on the dresser?"

From the corner of his eye, Meelan saw Morap's face drain of all colour and he knew immediately that Morap had taken it. Of course Nataleeh knew it as well, or she wouldn't have asked with this particular intonation.

"Morap?", he asked, though he didn't touch Morap this time. He knew that Morap was terrified enough as it was.

With trembling hands, the boy reached into his trouser pocket. "I'm sorry..." Morap said quietly and, as he pulled the hand out of his pocket, Meelan heard that his son's voice was shaky. "I don't know what happened... I touched it and it ... I don't know, I couldn't let it go..."

If Meelan had been surprised at his son simply taking something off his mother's dresser, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. His hands were wet with sweat, as he saw that the crystal, which he had procured some time ago on a trip to the Republic to meet with his client, had turned green. He saw Nataleeh raise an eyebrow. She didn't know what it was. Of couse she didn't. Meelan himself hadn't quite believed the smuggler, when he had told Meelan that the clear crystal, barely as big as Morap's thumb nail, was a kyber crystal, the main part of a Jedi's lightsaber. Meelan's mouth had gone dry. He remembered from his own history lessons that the Empire had destroyed most crystals, after the Jedi had betrayed the Republic, but a few had survived the purge. Apparently the trader had told the truth and somehow Morap had managed to activate this one. This could only mean one thing and Meelan didn't like that one bit.

"Morap, that's not the crystal, I meant." Nataleeh's voice grew angry, but Meelan quickly shook his head and held up his hand to tell her to be quiet.

"No, it's the same," Meelan said quietly and he didn't take his eyes off Morap. His boy had some of those Jedi powers? How could this be? How? And why? Meelan took a deep breath. "It's fine, Morap," he said, his own voice shaking with barely suppressed fear. "I don't think it's your fault. Go to bed. Please."

Morap, who had been staring at the tips of his shoes, looked up quickly, to check that his father was serious and Meelan nodded.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow."

Seemingly unable to believe his luck, Meelan made to grab the crystal, but quickly pulled back his hand and almost stormed off to his tiny bedroom.

Heaving a deep sigh, Meelan looked up to meet his wife's incredulous gaze.