Smile

Little Girl.

The soft sound of the folded flimsiplast letter being set on the kitchen table seemed loud in the silence.

Shaeeah let her gaze linger on it for several long seconds, before tightly twining her fingers around the straps of her knapsack. She shrugged, shifting her weight so that it settled more comfortably on her shoulders. She'd packed as lightly as she could; a change of clothes, a few basic toiletries, her datapad, credits. For a long moment, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The house still smelled faintly of dinner. She opened her eyes and she breathed out, looking around, absorbing everything. The table was where it always was, her chair was where it always was, as were Jekk's, Mom's, and Dad's. The radio was in its place on a shelf in the corner, the stove sat squat and dark against the back wall, a few dishes were lined up and drying in the rack beside the sink, the conservator gleamed a little, reflecting light from the overhead lamp.

Home.

She bowed her head and made fists around her knapsack straps, the tips of her lekku curling upward as she steeled herself. This time. This time, for sure.

Then there was the sound of a foot landing on a creaky step. She grimaced and turned around, seeing her father standing still on the second step from the floor. He was watching her, a hand on the railing and a sad look in his eyes. Shaeeah looked away, guiltily, towards the door.

Cut's footfalls were silent as he padded down the last two steps and approached her. "Not going to say goodbye?" he asked, and her eyes slunk back towards his. They were warm, though sad, and lined. He looked old; ever so much more than thirty, with durasteel grey hair and the beginnings of the thinness you could see in older men and women, the thinness that would someday evolve into the frailty of old age. Dad had always been a powerful man, a big man, a muscular man, but somewhere in the last few years she'd nearly caught up to him in height and now she barely had to glance up to look him in the eye. She had her own muscles from years of chores and farming.

Her brows drew together in consternation, but she met his gaze evenly when she replied. "Mom would have talked me out of it. Again." Turning slightly, she gestured at the kitchen table. "I left a letter." The words seemed weak, though, a paltry excuse for sneaking off in the middle of the night. Her lekku twitched in embarrassment and she tried not to flush as well.

This time. This time, for sure. The mantra she chanted to herself the entire past week gave her a little strength.

Dad was watching her, still with that sad look of warmth on his face, his lips curving upward into a somber smile. He chuckled once, and there was a resigned tone to it; he turned away from her and stepped over to the cabinet that housed the weapons, unlocking it and opening it. Her mother's long blaster rifle graced the top, perched on two hooks, while a DC-15 rested beneath it. Cut lifted it off the rack and turned around. He offered it to her. "You'll need this."

The old blaster was well cared for, clean. Her pale blue fingers slipped around it carefully. It was always heavier than she remembered, every time she picked it up. There was a weight to wielding it, a heaviness she suspected was more in her mind than in the actual mass involved in the weapon. "I can't take your deece, Dad," she said as she shook her head, pressing it back towards him.

He didn't accept it, and pressed it back towards her. "You're a good shot, Shaeeah. Best I've seen, and I've seen a fair number. They'll be able to use you." There was warmth in his praise, but his next words were grim. "Just remember what a blaster is for."

Killing. Blasters were for killing. She shuddered once, but took the carbine back into her hands. She didn't want to kill anyone, not really. But that would be part of it. Sometimes defending what was right involved death. It was ugly. She'd tell herself prettier things while she traveled, stories about standing up for freedom and justice. She would never like killing, even if it was for some lofty ideal. Blasters were for killing, even if that killing was in defense of something precious.

The durasteel was warm under her fingers, smooth except for where grooves fit into each other. Shaeeah turned aside and set it on the kitchen table, then swiftly turned back and stepped forward, flinging her arms around Cut's neck and burying her face in his shoulder, the way she did when she was a little girl and frightened of something too big or too strange. She felt him chuckle, deep in his chest, but his breath caught at the end of it, as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

She mumbled into his shoulder, "I'm not gonna let them do to Saleucami what they did to Alderaan. You'll see, Dad."

A heavy hand patted her back once, twice, then squeezed her. "You're just one person, Shaeeah. Don't be reckless. Stay alive. You won't be able to write too often, but do it when you can. For your mother. Do you have a datapad?"

She nodded once, pulling away slightly. "Yes. Tell Mom and Jekk I'm sorry. For disappearing."

"They want you safe. So do I."

This time. This time, for sure. She withdrew, straightened, stood as tall as her height allowed. "I want you safe, too, Dad." She couldn't help but smile, just a little. It hurt to leave.

The DC-15 rested idly on the table, the matte black a deeper shade against the shadows creeping through the kitchen. There was no comfortable way of carrying it; the best she could do was hook it to her belt, so she did. It hung heavily, tugging downward. She'd need a thigh holster; something to pick up in town before she left.

Cut was watching her with a proud kind of sadness in his eyes. Shaeeah stepped forward again and embraced him briefly, this time with just one arm. "I love you, Daddy."

He smiled, but the sadness was still there. "I love you too, Shaeeah. Go. Before I change my mind and wake your mother."

Shaeeah grinned, but it faded swiftly into something a little sad.

This time. This time, for sure.

She turned away from Cut and walked to the door, opening it. The nighttime air was cool on her face. She took one, heavy step out onto the porch. A second step took her to the stairs, a third and fourth down them and then she was standing on the ground, dirt under her feet, and gravel. She turned and looked back. Cut was standing in the doorway, a hand on the frame. He lifted the other hand in farewell, and Shaeeah sucked in a deep breath and turned back to the yard.

She walked. The gravel crunched beneath her feet, and she could hear insects cricking in the tall grass and in the fields. She walked past the house, past the barn, and stepped onto the path that led both to and from the homestead. She stopped again, and turned back. The house stood as it always did, a lumpy brown, familiar shape that always meant comfort and safety and familiarity. The barn stood tall and still, looming in the dark. She could see the shed and the nuna house beyond it, and fields of grain. The night was clear, and beyond the fields she could see stars and one of the moons, waxing large.

Dad lingered in the doorway, watching. He did not wave, but she saw him bow his head towards her, once, in final acknowledgement.

Then he turned, entered the house, and closed the door behind him.

For a moment, it hurt. And then, with painful slowness, she smiled.

She wasn't his little girl anymore. It was sad, but it was good, too. There was a whole galaxy out there, waiting, and a life to be had and built.

Her peach and blue spangled lekku swung behind her as she spun back around towards the path that would lead her into town. It would take her time, to walk, to catch a transport into the spaceport, to find those who wanted to fight as well. But she would, given time.

This time. This time, for sure.

She began to walk, slowly, then faster, until the red sun began to rise.

So, I decided to read over Shaeeah's information on the Wookieepedia in preparation for this ficlet, and discovered the Wookiee had been updated with new information. Shaeeah is apparently a Human/Twi'lek hybrid, her biological father was human, and Jekk's name is now spelled Jek.

Some time ago, I wrote a Cut/Suu origins story called Homestead, before any of that information was up on the Wookieepedia, and Homestead has been my personal canon for anything related to the Lawquanes since. So, though some of this may be a bit off from what the Wookieepedia says, I'm at least being consistent with myself, even if it's no longer completely canon anymore. So, squint a little, I guess?

Also, back in the day when writing Homestead, I imagined Shaeeah was the more adventurous of the two kids, and would be the one more likely to strike off on her own someday. I had a vague idea that she might run off to the Rebellion, because that would be neat, so that's what I did here.

~Queen