Weeks passed, excruciating. Days after days, I watched warily the lines getting deeper on Elya's face, the circles growing, and her colour oscillate from green to white in the span of minutes. I couldn't help but notice how stiff her movements where as she tried to keep working, how exhausted she looked whenever she closed her eyes for a second.

What can I do for you?, I wrote on our little private sheet, hidden in the notebook.

Elya feigned to modify a set of schematics.

Minimize my moves, my stomach rolls.

I nodded briskly, not even sparing her a glance. Ignoring her was so difficult, but I kept my walls in place. At the corner of my vision, I watched Dr Gubacher's pitying look. Elya and the strange octopus had started having lunch together again, and I was strangely grateful for the support he showed her. Was he more sensitive to her emotions, or simply trying to be a good colleague ?

There was no jealousy from me; Elya and I communicated in clipped tones, careful not to look at each other. Careful to keep our relationship professional and cold. It was excruciating to have to control our every move, every word, every single glance.

I wanted to to shower her with kisses, to hug her and bring her to my room. To put my hands upon her shoulders and never let go. I wanted, so badly, to see that bump starting to show whenever she allowed her abs to relax. I knew she would keep a tight leash on them, and that, being a lean and muscular woman, she could probably hide it for a while.

Dropping a glass of water in front of her was the best I could do. Anything else, and our ploy would be uncovered. So I practiced the façade, being curtly polite, when my eyes tried to convey a thousand things. The joy to be a father anew, my fears to be inadequate, to fail at protecting her. My elation that a baby was about to be born out of us.

I killed myself to the task; the schedule wasn't impossible, but our main wildcard was Bodhi. I wasn't sure he would agree to help, and had no clue when he would return. I was in such an awful state, nightmares had returned and hours seemed to flee.

At night, the kybers didn't even have to keep me awake. Why was this baby coming now ? Was it forcing us to launch our plans of sabotage ? If we escaped now, could we convince the rebellion to find the unfinished battlestation, and destroy it before it even had a chance to work ? Would the exhaust port still be implemented ? Useful ?

Who cared, as long as the weapon disappeared in the annals of the worst idea ever implemented. Krennic would be livid… he deserved it a thousand times. Would I take pleasure in watching his crestfallen expression ?

I shook my head, face sinking in my hands. The truth watched me in the eye, even behind closed lids. This wasn't petty revenge; Krennic would die, probably by Vader's own hands. The weight of the guilt was slowly, but surely ebbing away. I had lost Orson Krennic a long time ago, the devoted friend turned into something else by the Empire. Orson was dead already, and the fact that he threatened, by his very presence, both Jyn, Elya and my future baby… well. It was just enough to shed my remorse.

Speaking of Director Orson Krennic, he was due to return tomorrow. My lips quirked, and I was glad that Elya wasn't here to watch that horrible expression upon my face. For I was about to give my friend the tongue lashing of the century, and enjoy it. All part of the ploy, of course, but it would settle my nerves.

Curiously, Orson didn't see it coming. Did he expect me to kowtow ? To tremble under his demands ? To bend under the threat of Lord Vader, just like he did ? I could feel how the Sith's deadline affected him; the only reason why I resisted the terror resided in that new life Elya and I had created. This baby allowed me more distance, it recalibrated my priorities. Gave me a reason to take them both out of there, and run after Jyn earlier that I should have.

The cause; freedom and annihilation of the empire, that used to weight so heavy upon my shoulders had been replaced by a selfish, hopeful future.

Yet, when Orson started scolding me over my brooding, arguing that his little protegée had not deserved such a bad treatment, I allowed all the pent-up frustration to explode.

"Your ploy has failed, Orson. You won't be able to use her to lure me anymore."

Krennic sent me an indignant look that I knew to be false.

"Lure you ? I had no such idea. I only wanted you to feel at ease. To have someone that could understand you, and take the load off your shoulders for a bit."

Fist clenched, breath short, the wave of anger surprised me as I spat in Orson's direction. "Do you think me stupid ?", I hotly retorted, watching the lines of his mouth tighten in frustration.

"Stupid ?", he asked, lifting an eyebrow for good measure. "Never, Galen. How could I call you stupid, when you are one of the greatest geniuses of this galaxy." I sneered. Flattery. If Orson reverted to such tools, it meant he wanted to appease the beast that was emerging from under my skin.

"I've seen what you tried to do. I saw why you choose her, because she is so similar to …"

"Naaa. It's true I've noticed some resemblance between…"

I straightened, my body tensing in anticipation of a fight. How I wanted to crack his nose, to feel the skin break under my knuckles. "Say it." Orson didn't move a muscle, keeping his arrogant, nonchalant face. "What ?'

"You can't even say her name, right ? The woman you killed before my very eyes."

This time, Orson's face reddened. "Damn it, Galen ! I didn't…"

My pointed look deterred him from stating, once more, that he'd not pulled the trigger. By now, he knew I held him responsible either way. So, in a show of control, my former friend breathed deeply before his icy gaze returned to me. "I'm not a coward. I don't deny what happened to Lyra was an accident… but it's no use pushing Elya away. She is doing her best to plea… to help you."

Rage, coiled in my guts, caused me to see red. That damn, presumptuous little shit ! The man who called himself my friend ! He couldn't even see Elya's own worth, she was just an easy replacement of Lyra, one that would obey his whims and steer my in the right direction. A scientific whore to put in my bed. He'd used her, hurt her. Would he kill her too, when she no longer suited his needs ?

I blanched, wondering if I would ever hold her in my arms, white as a sheet, dying. Limp… the warm body of Lyra, eyes closed, chest smoking from the deadly blast tumbled in my memory. The traumatism was too present; it surfaced so often, at night. In my nightmares, sometimes, it wasn't Lyra's mop of curly hair that rested in my palm, but Elya's ringlets of fire that tumbled over her still chest. Shocked, I levelled Orson with a murderous gaze and spat.

"She's not Lyra…" I ground out, like a wounded wolf whose blood seeped into the ground. My chest tightened, white, hot rage building, looking for an escape. A supernova about to ignite. How Orson didn't catch my mood was beyond me, but I was on the verge of levelling the room with an explosion. Perhaps because he'd always known me as a tame, subdued man lost in his mind.

"Of course not, Galen. But think..."

My fuse blowed as I bellowed:

"She can replace my dead wife ! She's not Lyra, she'll never be !" My outburst swept at the room, catching Orson off guard; his mouth shut at once.

If Lyra had taught me something, it was to stand up for myself and my family. I wasn't going to take any shit anymore. Heaving, I turned on my heels to leave. The door whooshed open, and the sight that greeted me caused my feet to freeze. Shit. Shit, shit shit. Elya was there, unmoving, sadness and shock pooling in her eyes. Heartbroken by the very words she'd just heard through the door.

She can replace my dead wife ! She's not Lyra, she'll never be !

Would she understand that I was just playing my part ? No. Elya wasn't stupid. Ploy or not, those words came from the heart. She would never replace Lyra, and I didn't want her to. What could I say, in the middle of that corridor, to fix the harsh words I'd just uttered ? How could I tell her, show her I loved her all the same ?

"Ah Elya, please come in. Right on time."

I would have kicked Orson right there had the fight not left me. But my recent explosion had drained every ounce of fuel to feed my rage. Weariness landed upon my shoulders. Ready to collapse, I hung to Elya's gaze like a man starved for sunlight.

Please say you understand, I had once asked Jyn. Please, Elya.

I watched, helpless, the mask of indifference slide into place, her green eyes become steely, and her jaw tightening. "Dr Erso", she greeted me coolly. Then she walked around me, avoiding the contact effortlessly, leaving in her wake only a gust of coldness. I shivered, vanquished. Damn Orson Krennic.

I retreated to my quarters like a dead man, feet performing their task on their own. Outside, the steady batter of the rain tried to assault the empire's building. But the duracreete held true; it would never fall to the elements. The Empire submitted nature to its whims, not the other way around. I was sure that, given enough time, it would master black holes and find a way to use gravitational waves to muster its energy.

I sunk on my bunk, watching the lonely room. Defeated, I pulled the blanket over my clothed form, and watched the ceiling – too low – that always failed at giving me responses. Even under the heavy polyfibers, my body shivered from the cold. I scoffed; the empire would be able to destroy planets, but it wasn't even able to provide enough heating to keep its human members with a comfortable place to sleep.

A heavy sight shook my chest. What use was it to keep it inside now ? Even if Krennic's spies watched me, I had every right to be the wretched scientist they expected me to be. Without Elya, that wet, freezing excuse of a moon was more difficult to bear. When I slept with her, arm around her lithe frame, her warmth surrounded me. Her scent lulled me to sleep, the safe haven of her skin humming against mine.

It had been nine weeks already, meaning she was now twelve weeks pregnant. And probably hating my guts right now. I closed my eyes tightly; would she give in to Krennic now that she though I didn't love her ? One more, I had made a fool out of myself. Lyra always used to say I was the biggest oaf with women; lucky for me I was already married. Well, she wasn't so wrong.

I prayed, then, hoping my late wife would help me, and fill Elya's heart with hope. I had none left to go on.