I kissed Rue's plump lips and instantly felt refreshed. I could've kissed those lips constantly until the day I died, which was what I planned to do if she'd let me. Unfortunately, she ended the kiss by pulling back and cupping my face as she stroked my cheek with her thumb, smiling at me with all the adoration in the world. That was all I'd ever wanted, all I'd ever needed. I sighed fondly, feeling like the luckiest man in the whole universe and stroked her shoulder as I stood up, deciding to finally let her go talk to her sister as she had intended to do. I extended my flat and empty palm to her as an offer of assistance and she gratefully accepted, placing her tiny, exquisite hand in mine as she scooted off the gurney and landed on her feet. I held out my other hand, inches away from her hip for support if need be. I desired to be at her constant disposal. Unsurprisingly, she was perfectly self-sufficient at standing and did not require my help in the slightest. She gave me an appreciative glance and I couldn't help myself from stealing one last kiss, soaking up the sweet, sugary taste of her mouth. This time I was forced to be the one to end the kiss, knowing she'd never be able to talk to Rebel if I didn't control myself. She giggled in the most adorable way as we broke apart and tucked her hair behind her ear, nibbling on her lower lip to prevent her smile from stretching across her entire face as if we'd just shared our first kiss all over again. She's adorable when she's embarrassed. She's adorable, period. Well, more than adorable. She's mesmerizing, irresistible, breathtaking. Speaking of breathing, I reminded myself to do so as I licked my lips, savoring the honey tasting residue she'd left on them. I turned and watched her hips sway as she exited the room, feeling a smirk tug at my lips. Hate to see her go, love to watch her leave. I smacked my forehead with my flat palm to snap myself out of my trance, also as a rebuke. Inappropriate, I scolded myself, thanking the force that no one could read my thoughts. Well, maybe Sawyer could. The mere thought of him saddened me. After all these years, the faintest reminder of my best friend, the only man I'd ever considered as my brother, could spark the most raging fire of grief within me. I sighed broken-heartedly as my gaze traveled down to the ground and I pawed at it absent-mindedly, linking my hands behind my back. I felt a tear slide down my cheek and wiped at it furiously before anyone noticed. I wasn't supposed to cry, but I kept my memories of Sawyer locked away so tightly and buried so deep down that even Rue couldn't access them, so when they did surface, it was nearly impossible to control my feelings. He didn't deserve the way his life had succumbed to such a brutal and abrupt end, he deserved a better childhood, a better father, but most of all, he deserved a better friend. I squeezed my eyes shut to contain more tears as I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble and balled my fists up so compactly at my conflicting emotions. I wanted to cry because of the loss of my best friend, but part of me criticized myself and told me it was unfair of me to mourn him when I'd been a contributing factor to his death by not doing a thing to stop him. I wanted to punch something until it was suffering from an amount of pain that was rival to my own. I wanted to make it look like my heart, mangled, shattered, unfixable, utterly destroyed, but part of me warned that that would not be what Sawyer would want. I wanted to scream because of the war waging inside of me as I felt my muscles tense and the urge to strike something grew. At that very moment, someone cleared their throat and I could tell by the direction the sound had come from, they were standing in the doorway. I looked up and the rest of my body went numb, my heart ceased to beat, my tears automatically froze, the blurriness disappearing for me to see clearer, although that didn't help much because I still didn't trust my eyes. The ghost stared back at me with familiar hazel eyes that blinked curiously and were full of concern, concern for me. I'd recognize it anywhere, I'd seen it many times in the past. I finally jumped back, recovering from my stupor and felt my eyes widen in fear. Fear that this wasn't real, that this was only a dream, simply my imagination. Fear that I was merely being taunted by the force, that this was perhaps a side-effect of my dehydration, that I'd never truly see him aside from an illusion again. "Okay, either I'm still very dehydrated or that's Sawyer standing in the doorway," I said aloud, speaking to anyone who was listening, anyone who could confirm or deny my hallucination as I pointed at the figure in the doorway with a shaking finger, panting out of desperation for it to be real. "It's me," he replied in that soft voice I'd missed through his chuckle I'd been longing to hear for such a long time as he looked down at himself, shyly avoiding my eyes and extending his arms out to his sides in a demonstrative manner. My jaw dropped open in disbelief. It was just too good to be true, too coincidental, too inconceivable, I just couldn't believe it. Well, not based on two words alone at least. Only the real Sawyer would respond to the nickname I'd called him by since we were both 5 years old. He looked up, awaiting my reaction with more anticipation the longer I remained silent. "S-Soy?" I stuttered questioningly, taking a faltering step toward him. His smile widened, making his eyes mist even more as he squinted. "Hey, buddy," he answered correctly, using his nickname for me as he extended his arms toward me, prepared to catch me as if we were doing trust falls with each other like we had done when we were kids. He proved to be the worthy partner I remembered him to be as I collapsed into his arms and hugged him tightly through a stream of tears. I sobbed into his shoulder as he threw his arms around me, equally tight, and burrowed his face in my shoulder. When he placed his palms against my chest though to push away from me to see my face, I held him against me even closer. "No," I whimpered, my breath hitching as I clutched him firmly, digging my fingers into his back. "Don't let go," I begged. "I'm never letting go of you again," I vowed. "Well," he chuckled again, squirming in my embrace. "You have to because I can't breathe, bud," he said in a hoarse voice as he pushed against my shoulders. I reluctantly released him, but held onto his shoulders as he backed away to keep him within arms reach in case he tried to disappear. He apparently had the same idea as he also grasped my shoulders. He smiled at me, not daring to allow his tears to spill down his cheeks while I couldn't have cared less and let them flow freely as I scanned his face for signs of injury. He looked overjoyed and I hoped my facial expression accurately portrayed the level of ecstasy I was experiencing, although I worried if I smiled much more, my face might break. I wanted to squeal, jump up and down, hug him a million more times, as well as ask him how he survived, but more importantly why it had taken this long for him to come back to me. Couldn't he sense where I was anywhere in the universe using the force? That's how that works, right? I mean, that's how Rebel found us, I imagine. Possibly the most persistent question I had for him though was why? Why in the universe did he have to die? Why did he not tell me his plan? Why did he not at least say, "Hey, man, I'm gonna go jump off this cliff now. Would you mind raising my kids for me? Thanks." I mean, come on! Nearly 20 years of friendship and I don't even get a reason, not even a goodbye? Who does that? It was then that I registered my overwhelming desire to slap him for his error, not a painful one, just one strong enough to bring him to his senses, mainly because I knew he couldn't take much more than a gentle flick to the forehead without sustaining injury. I lifted my hand from his shoulder and flattened my palm in preparation to slap him when, at the same time, his face fell as all elation was drained from it. We slapped each other across the face simultaneously, although Sawyer's slap felt more like a pat on the cheek and I assumed it was less out of restraint for me and more because that was the best he could do, which was cute. It always made me feel as if I held the position of older, protective brother in our dynamic. I wanted to reach out and pat his head consolingly as I cooed over his failed attempt at leaving my cheek with a stinging sensation, but I fought the urge because of a stronger desire to make him feel powerful. "Ow!" I yelped and dramatically stumbled backward as I pretended to be hurt by pressing my own palm against the cheek he'd slapped. He held his palm against the cheek I'd slapped too and looked down at his other hand pridefully because of his presumed ability to actually cause me mild pain. I rolled my eyes affectionately at his swelling egotism while his gaze was still preoccupied with his hand and not on me, but I wondered why he'd slapped me in the first place. "What was that for?" I asked woundedly. "What was that for?" He retorted, repeating my own question far more emphatically as he jolted his head up and suddenly acted extremely hurt, much more than he had initially, pointing between me and his cheek accusingly. "You didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye to you!" I took a step forward, returning to my original spot as I jabbed him in the heart. He slapped his palms over the area on his chest offendedly as his jaw hung open in disbelief. "You let Rebel remarry!" He copied my action as he took a step toward me and was forced to tilt his head back to look me in the eye since I easily towered over him. I did not react the same way to poke he gave me, mostly because it felt like nothing more than a tap on the chest. And seriously? That's what the slap was for? Something I had no say in? As if I could dictate Rebel's life choices, as if anyone could. No matter how uncomfortable it made me that my sister-in-law, my best friend's wife, was married to mine and Sawyer's former friend, I couldn't do anything to stop it. Despite the fact that I had protested her striking up a relationship with another man, even a platonic one, three years ago, before even knowing it had been the same Benji Sawyer and I had known in our teenage years, she had done it anyway. Now he expected me to forbid her to marry him? He should know his wife, the mother of his children, better than that. "I can't control that!" I proclaimed innocently, stretching my arms out at my sides. "And, in my defense," I laid my hand over my heart in a swearing manner as I leaned toward him. "I did try to stop her." I held my palms up toward him guiltlessly. The more I looked at him, his real, tangible face in front of me, not one conjured up by my imagination through memory, the more I felt my elation rise again as I failed to subdue my smile. I watched his smile gradually return as well as he let his hand slide back down to his side from his cheek. "Sawyer," I said affectionately as I cupped his face in my hands. Happiness didn't begin to encompass all that I was feeling at the moment, but it was the only emotion I could think of to describe my current mood. "I'm so happy you're alive!" I shrieked, unable to contain my excitement any longer as I threw my hands up in the air and waved them back and forth, doing a little dance that made Sawyer giggle. That was all that mattered, as long as he was amused, I didn't care if I was embarrassing myself, the thought barely even crossed my mind as I wrapped him up in another tight embrace which he reciprocated. Speaking of him being here, alive and well, safe in my arms, I wondered how it was even possible. My heart fought against my head though, telling me I should simply be grateful he was here and that I shouldn't ruin the moment with my disruptive, unimportant questions. My brain was far more determined though and could no longer contain the question as it forced its way out through my mouth. "How did you survive?" I asked, my arms still woven around his shoulders as I leaned back slightly to examine his face. He looked up at me and sighed as his mouth curved downward into a frown. I felt a knot form in my stomach just at the expression on his face. I hated to see him upset, it heightened my concern and spiked my anxiety, making it shoot through the roof. I gnawed on my lower lip, nervous I'd start making corny jokes. It was my duty as his best friend to ensure he was content. If he was anything less, I was failing. He patted my back reassuringly as if he could read my thoughts and took a step back from me. I allowed him to hesitantly as I relaxed my grip on him and he held out his hand to me invitingly. "Let's talk," he prompted, flexing his fingers inward toward his palm twice as a welcoming gesture for me to take his hand. I slid my hand in his and he immediately tugged me out of the med-bay and began leading me down the hallway as I trailed behind him compliantly. "My ship was damaged on entry and I need the best mechanic in the universe to help me repair it," he referenced me subtly as he dragged me through the rebellion and continued facing forward, but I knew he was talking about me, so I smirked, striving to not allow the flattery to make my pride swell as it had with Sawyer. "Ah, bribery," I recognized his exaggeration as I nodded in understanding although he couldn't see me from behind him. "Well, if you think that's gonna get me to help you-" I tried to say sarcastically, but as Sawyer glanced at me over his shoulder with a humongous smile on his face, I couldn't help but drop the facade altogether. "You don't need to use bribery to get me to help you!" I ran up alongside him and dropped his hand to drape my arm across his shoulders. "You're my best friend!" I exclaimed as I gave him a side hug and he swaddled his arm around my torso. He guided me all the way out to the landing field where I saw a modified Firespray-31-class patrol and attack craft had docked and I assumed it belonged to Sawyer. "Oh, Soy," I whispered, enchanted by its rustic paint job, the magnetism of the fascinating stories behind the carbon scoring and blaster marks, the vintage style of it all. I allowed myself to be lured in by all of its captivating, intricate details, taking a step forward and letting my arm slide off Sawyer's shoulders. "She's a beaut!" I commented, running my fingers over the textured, chipping paint that was brimming with untold tales of harrowing adventure. I wondered how in the universe this esteemed ship had come into Sawyer's possession and why it was not in the hands of someone far more experienced in the field of spacecraft and someone who would give it the appreciation it deserved by keeping it stored away in a secure facility instead of flying it recklessly as I reminded myself of the reason Sawyer had dragged me out here. "Too bad she had a lousy pilot like you flying her so she got damaged," I grumbled disparagingly as I teasingly glared at him over my shoulder. He crossed his arms as he rolled his eyes and although he did not appear insulted by my remark, thankfully since I hadn't meant it truthfully, I reminded myself of how grateful I was that he was even here at all. I didn't want to, even accidentally, drive him away again. I still didn't know the real reason he felt the need to end his life, perhaps it had been something I'd said, an unintentionally offensive remark directed at him that had pushed him over the edge…literally. Inappropriate, again! "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," I apologized, shaking my head as I spun around to face him with my head down shamefully. "You know I think you're a great pilot, way better than me," I complimented him frantically to redeem myself from my mistake as I pounded against my chest with my fist. "Buddy, buddy," he addressed me compassionately through sympathetic chuckles as he ran toward me in my distress and pressed one of his palms against my cheek, the other against my chest. "Take it easy," he instructed gently as he rubbed my chest, moving his hand in a circular motion and he slid his other hand from my cheek down to my shoulder and gave it a light, comforting squeeze. I nodded obediently and closed my eyes to take a deep breath as I already felt tears of guilt stinging the back of my eyes. "I know you were joking." He winked at me once I opened my eyes and I smiled at his attempt to make me feel better. "I just don't want to say anything wrong." I sniffled as I explained the reason behind my flustered attempt to rectify my possibly hurtful joke. "I can't help but feel like I was responsible for your death." My voice cracked as I choked on the words and tears pooled in the corner of my eyes. "Ash," he said pitifully, addressing me by my real name for the first time since he'd arrived as he rubbed my chest again. "I don't want you to think that at all." He shook his head as he pouted regretfully, his eyes glistening with tears as well. "Come with me," he instructed softly as he pointed to the belly of the ship behind me and made a sweeping gesture toward it with his other hand. He wound his arm around my torso again as I turned around and he led me to the damaged area of the ship. He laid down on his back and waved at me to join him. I did so, looking up and finding myself face to face with a gaping hole in the hull of the ship as disconnected wires spewed out of it from all directions, their frayed golden ends sparking. "See that?" He asked me, pointing up at the tangled disarray of detached cables. "Aww, yeah," I groaned and winced as I ran my fingertip down the streak of carbon scoring that drew an obvious map toward the breach in the interior. My eyes followed the scar all down the belly of the ship that indicated it had been flown too close to the planet's surface and had scraped against the jagged, rocky landscape. "Let me grab my tools." I pointed toward the hanger I had designated as my workshop when we very first arrived here and I had decided that was where I had wanted my tools to be stored. "I'll come with you," Sawyer announced as I rolled out from underneath the ship. Once I was standing, I bent down and grasped his wrists, pulling him into an upright position, grateful he wasn't leaving my sight yet. Even if this was only a dream, I wanted to remain in it with him for as long as possible. Force, I hope this isn't a dream. We walked leisurely to the hanger bay, our arms linked around each other's and in no particular hurry. He didn't seem to be in a rush to have his ship repaired so he could proceed on his way, hopefully that meant he was staying. The rebellion was unusually sparse and quiet as we gathered up the necessary tools. In fact, I didn't see anyone else at all as we entered the base and walked back out onto the landing field with bundles of equipment cradled in our arms, but I liked it this way. Just me and Sawyer, like the old days. We laid back down below the opening and lapsed into a comfortable silence as we worked alongside each other harmoniously until Sawyer reignited the conversation. "You know I," he suddenly paused to roll his eyes. "Unwillingly," he grumbled, looking over at me and gestured in my direction with the crescent wrench in his hand. "Share a force connection with my father," he completed his sentence and I nodded since this was not news to me, but Sawyer was evidently ensuring I remembered because apparently whatever he was preparing to tell me was related to the subject. "Well," he sighed as he returned his attention to the tattered cords above his head and resumed attaching them to each other. "I started to get messages, threats," he corrected himself. "From him through the force that he'd find us." I instantly bristled, outraged that someone would dare threaten Sawyer. No one should have the authority to do that, not even his father, or in his case, especially not his father. "I knew I was endangering you by being there, so I decided I'd just erase my existence all together so my presence couldn't be sensed at all," he finally explained the reason behind his suicide and I felt a pang of remorse surge through me. How could I have possibly been upset with him? I should've known it was because of something as selfless as sacrificing his life for our safety. Of course he would never do anything to hurt me, especially not by purposely, carelessly throwing his life away out of pure disregard for it when he knew I'd struggled with the same issues in the past. "Oh, Soy," I reached out and touched his shoulder, admiring his unselfish attitude. My only wish was that he'd informed me of his plan sooner so we could've perhaps conspired together to formulate a different strategy, one that didn't involve him dying. "I wish you'd told me." I gulped strenuously, swallowing a rising lump in my throat. "It wasn't your fault." He shrugged and shook his head as he relieved me from blame. "There's nothing you could've done," he lied to me simply to free me of the pain, despite knowing I was not gullible enough to fall prey to his snare. "Of course there was," I argued as a million solutions to our predicament flooded my brain in an instant before Sawyer's death even entered my mind. Most consisted of the same main outcome, however, with a different victim, his father. If we destroyed the source of the issue, there would be no additional details to consider! Sawyer cocked his head, politely intrigued by my statement, silently prodding me for examples. "I could've-" I stopped myself as I poked myself in the chest with my thumb, realizing I was not offering to kill his father for him, I was promising. I'd already practiced the deed an obsessive amount of times in my imagination and if an opportunity arose, I would've taken it without a moment's hesitation. "Would've taken on Palpatine all on my own," I corrected myself and Sawyer smiled at me appreciatively. "I know you would've," he said, patting my shoulder. "And you would've died," he predicted without skipping a beat as he returned to the task above him. I glared teasingly at his hasty and faithless, though probably accurate, assumption. I couldn't agree with him though, I still had to maintain the role of big brother for him. I needed to set the example for him by being strong, brave, and confident in myself. "You underestimate my power," I said cunningly while raising one of my eyebrows at him and he giggled. Even if I didn't have that kind of confidence in myself, I could fake it for him, and even though he was an adult and didn't need someone to instill such virtues in him, it was still nice to have someone to look up to. I knew I didn't deserve to serve as a model for him with all of the mistakes I've made, but it would be my greatest honor if I could at least come close and I hoped he could see me trying. I looked back up at my project and continued mending his ship. With the question of why resolved, how persisted, rattling around in my brain until eventually it escaped through my mouth once again. "But how did you survive?" I asked, immediately feeling guilty that my heart's objections were defeated again. "Well," he began with another sigh. "The distance from the cliff to the rocks was so far that I must've passed out during the fall." I flinched involuntarily and a shudder ran through my body as an image of Sawyer's bloody, lifeless body lay sprawled out across the spiked boulders at the foot of a steep and lofty cliff, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles as waves crashed against the foundation of the escarpment. Each crest rushing onshore as transparent, but flowing back into the sea, contaminated with his blood until the water had transformed into a deep red. Thankfully, Sawyer's account didn't end there and the sound of his voice calmed me. "My theory is that I hit the water below and avoided the rocks." It was as if I were transported back to that traumatic day and as if I had physically been present to witness his "death" as his limp, lanky body collided with the penetrable surface of the water. I heard the splash echo around me and watched the bubbles float up as the chilling sea water stung my skin as if I had dove in personally. "I assume the stormtroopers removed my body from Ahch-To." He shrugged and I felt extreme regret over the fact that we did not climb down the cliff to confirm his death. I know for a fact that if I'd been the one to fall off that cliff, Sawyer would've scaled it to verify my condition. If his assumption that the stormtroopers had taken him was correct, which it most likely was since they were the only other sentients on the island that our scanner picked up as we were leaving, I wondered if he'd been under imperial imprisonment these past 3 years, how he'd been treated, if they'd threatened him to give information regarding the rebellion. My chest constricted painfully as I thought about the various forms of torture he must've endured since I knew he wouldn't reveal information about us willingly. Tears welled up in my eyes again as I thought about him confined to a cell and wondered when he gave up on begging to be rescued by me and had decided to take matters into his own hands and save himself. I hadn't even heard his cries for help, I hadn't even done any research to figure out if he was really gone or not, just blindly accepted the report Rebel had given me and wallowed in my grief. Now I was tempted to do the very same thing, only this time with regret instead of mourning. I refused to make the same mistake twice and instead really listened and paid attention to him this time as I shook my head to free the tears from my eyes and focused on my breathing so closely I almost missed what he said next. "I've been in a coma for the past three years and woke up a few days ago at the palace on Naboo." I fought the urge to puff out a sigh of relief as I discovered he had not been a captive of the empire this whole time, at least not a live one. "And you escaped?" I asked enthusiastically, proud of him for his success as I had already assumed his answer would be yes. "Something like that," he mumbled vaguely as he drilled a nail in the hull of the ship. Even though he hadn't had experiences as a hostage, I wondered what his experiences had been like while he was unconscious. "Wow, a coma?" I sought confirmation that I'd heard him correctly as I looked over at him and he nodded. "What was that like?" I asked. "Boring," he responded uninterestedly and blew a raspberry. "I don't really remember anything," he said, shrugging. I couldn't imagine waking up and not having a single memory of the past three years, having your mind simply reset to the day it shut off. However, I supposed it could be compared to sleep, but even after I'd awoken from sleep, I still had memories of my dreams. Perhaps Sawyer did remember certain things, his dreams, for example, but had omitted the details, thinking it would be uninteresting to me, but nothing he could say would bore me. I wanted to know everything that had happened in his life these past few years, just like I would've if we'd been together. "Nothing?" I prodded, prompting him to share any recollection no matter how insignificant, but he simply shook his head. I realized I needed to ask a more specific question to access the precise area of his memory I wanted to unlock. "No wild dreams?" I inquired and he shook his head again. Thankfully, during dreamless sleep I couldn't sense the passage of time. Hopefully it was the same for Sawyer while he was unconscious, otherwise he would've had to withstand a degree of boredom I'm not sure I would've been able to bear. "Did it feel like three years were passing or had passed when you woke up or did it feel like a short amount of time?" I felt as if I were conducting an interview for a research project on comas with all of the questions I was asking him. "It felt short, honestly," he replied, finally giving me a verbal response. "I was shocked to find out it had been three years," he informed me and I thought about how confusing it must've been for him to wake up in the future as I entertainedly imagined him asking about trends that were popular three years ago only to find they were old fashioned now. I tried to conceal my amused smile from him by continuing to repair the ship, but I was forced to pause when I felt something tickling my forehead. I crossed my eyes to look up at it and saw a blurry strand of black that must've been one of my curls, so I puffed out a breath with my bottom lip to brush it out of my face since my hands were occupied, but my hair stubbornly refused to cooperate. I sighed heavily, deciding to ignore it when I noticed Sawyer's pale hand from my peripheral vision reach over and slowly, gently lift it off my forehead and satisfyingly brush my hairline back from my face with his fingers and I smiled over at him appreciatively. He grinned back at me, just happy to oblige and I realized how comforting it was just to have a companion at my side as I worked that didn't play loud music or steal my radio all together or who criticized every move I was making or who made me want to play music in the first place. There was something so serene about just having someone to talk to as you worked, someone who always seemed to know exactly what tool you needed at the exact moment you needed it and would hand it to you without even being asked, someone to brush your hair out of your face when it got annoying. Sawyer and I worked side by side with such effortless flow, seamlessly exchanging tools without missing a beat as we jumped right back into our usual rhythm as if no amount of time had passed at all. I didn't realize exactly how much I missed him until this exact moment. "I missed you," I said affectionately. "I missed you too," he said with a soft smile. Oh boy, here come the tears again. I don't think I even cried this much when he "died", maybe I did though. That's when I remembered something else. If he didn't remember anything while he was unconscious, how could he remember missing me? "Pfft," I blew a doubtful raspberry to prevent my tears from spilling down my cheeks and scoffed. "You were in a coma," I reminded him. "How could you?" I asked rhetorically and he rolled his eyes, avoiding eye contact to prepare a retort. "One might beg to differ that I missed you even more because I had nothing to remind me of you," he cockily one upped me, obviously proud of the excuse he'd conjured up. "Just utter blackness." He looked up and panned his hand across the sky, his palm facing upward. I glared at him teasingly, waiting for him to look back down at me. He had some clever replies, after all, he had learned from the best, me. Unfortunately, that also meant that I was able to beat him, every time. Once he looked back down at me, eagerly awaiting my reaction to his brilliant comeback, I lifted a strand of my hair that was also black, waving it back and forth between my index finger and thumb so that it was clearly visible to him. That, coupled with the arrogant smirk on my face I assume, made him crack up with laughter, which of course infected me, making me belt out a laugh as well. Sawyer had an awkward, unique, undeniably ugly laugh. There was no courteous way to say it, but it was certainly contagious since it was most definitely his true laugh. "You're always able to make me laugh," he said, his laughter finally dying down enough for him to speak. "I really missed that," he said wistfully, timidly looking back up at the hole in the ship and clearing his throat. I scooted closer to him, as close as I could get without encroaching on his workspace and let him know I regretted missing out on the past three years of laughs we could've shared just as much as he did. "I missed hearing you laugh." I tapped the side of my foot against his and he looked down at our feet, then back up at me with a smile and reciprocated the action by tapping his shoe against mine. "So," he began stiffly after a brief period of silence, his voice sounding strained. "Did you make any new friends while I was out?" He asked tentatively, glancing at me from the corner of his eye and I dropped my arms to my sides, letting the metal of the screwdriver in my hand clank against the pavement we were laying on, which caused Sawyer to flinch, but insuring my best friend understood what I meant when I told him he was my best friend was my top priority at the moment and I couldn't be bothered much with anything else. "Soy, come on," I looked over at him and was met by his ignorant stare. I'd never had a best friend before Sawyer, I haven't replaced him so far, and I don't plan on it. I've never met anyone like him, so how could he even think I'd consider calling anyone else my friend? "How can you ask that?" I questioned disappointedly. "What?" He asked defensively while chuckling nervously. "I'm just curious." He shrugged and looked back up at the ship. He still wasn't getting it, he thought I was upset he had asked such a question when that couldn't be farther from the case. In truth, I was grateful he'd asked me. It showed my friendship was important to him, but what he didn't understand was that his friendship was just as important to me as mine was to him. "No, it's not that." I shook my head. "It's-" I paused, trying to think of a way to reword my question so I didn't seem as if I were trying to keep the answer private and chastise him for trying to get the answer out of me, rather, to make him come to the realization on his own that he was my one and only friend, always. "How can you possibly think I'd even try to replace you?" I asked compassionately, but his facial expression remained the same as he blinked at me. I sighed and hung my head, recognizing that I'd have to explain it myself. "Sawyer," I rolled over onto my stomach to finally turn my head to the left for once while talking to Sawyer since he'd been on my right side this entire time and my neck was becoming sore from looking one way for so long. "Nobody compares to you," I explained earnestly, placing my hand on his arm. "You're my best friend for life," I said emphatically before realizing that still didn't quite encompass the point I was attempting to make since the reason he was asking was because his life had "ended". "And I mean for all my life, not yours." I pointed at myself with a taunting smile and he rolled his eyes jokingly. "Too soon?" I asked, cringing. "Maybe a little." He squinted at me and held his index finger and thumb up only an inch apart as I rolled back over onto my back to continue working. He jabbed me in the ribs with his boney elbow once I was beside him again and I winced, giggling since I knew he was only play fighting and I gave his shoulder a light shove. This was sort of like how I imagined mine and Cole's relationship would be, I realized with a pang of sadness. I suddenly thought about all of the things I'd not been able to teach him and never would be able to, such as how to shave, how to fly, how to use a hydrospanner, and gulped down a thick mass crawling up my throat. I vaguely remembered having a conversation with Rue about whether or not we preferred the baby she was pregnant with now to be a boy and I distinctly recall the two of us agreeing on the hope that it was a boy. Hopefully, I could teach him all the things I'd prepared to teach his brother, not that he could ever replace Cole, no one could, just as no one could replace Sawyer, but he would be able to honor his brother. I looked over at Sawyer, hoping he hadn't noticed my sudden silence. Thankfully, he hadn't. The only reason I hadn't wanted him to ask me what was wrong was because I knew I wouldn't be able to lie to him by merely brushing off his concern and I certainly hadn't wanted to bring down the mood with the truth. I'd tell him eventually, but for now, this was a happy moment and I didn't want to ruin it, so I thought of more happy news I could share. "Rue's pregnant," I announced, glancing over at Sawyer. He gasped excitedly and dropped the tools in both of his hands, making them scatter across the ground. "Congratulations, buddy!" He squealed, tossing his hands in the air and his enthusiasm invigorated me. "When is she due?" He asked. "About 8 months," I answered, realizing he was the first person I'd spread the news to. "We just found out," I said and he nodded, feeling privileged to be one of the first people to know about it. A hazy memory of a discussion with Rue on what to name the baby suddenly traversed its way to the forefront of my brain. "We, um," I strove to recall how the conversation went as I rubbed my forehead, hoping to trigger another memory. "Well," I chuckled at my struggle to remember as I pinched the bridge of my nose. Finally, I remembered at least what the outcome of the conversation had been and excitement made me stutter my words. "If-if it's a boy, we were going to name him Sawyer," I gestured at my best friend and he grinned, flattered. "But now I think that might get a little confusing if there's two of you." I giggled while explaining my reservations to him. "Well, you can still name him Sawyer, I'll just go by my middle name," he jokingly offered a solution and I snorted with laughter, smacking the underbelly of the ship with my palm and shaking my head since, as his best friend, I was the only person outside of his family granted with the privilege of knowing his middle name. His father had been in charge of choosing it, so obviously he chose the most embarrassing one possible. "No!" I shrieked, covering my mouth as I laughed. "Sawyer!" I scolded teasingly while he simply grinned at me, proud he'd been able to crack me up that hard. Eventually, after many distractions, we were able to seal the bottom of the ship's cracks airtight with tape after welding various strips of metal to it we found lying around to patch it up. "Well, she's all better," I declared, running my finger down the same line the carbon scoring that had been present previously, but had since been scraped and buffed off, then I patted the ship lovingly and looked over at my partner who'd made it possible. "I'd say we did a pretty good job," he said, satisfied as he put his hands on his hips. "All because I had the help of the best partner in the universe," I praised him with the same compliment he'd given me earlier as I playfully punched his shoulder. "We do make a pretty great team, don't we?" He asked rhetorically and held out his hand for me to shake. I reached for it, holding my breath, attempting to curb my hopes that he'd remember our secret handshake. I reminded myself we'd invented it a long time ago and hadn't done it in ages, even before that mission to Ahch-To it had been a long time, I barely remembered it myself. As soon as our hands touched though, I found both of us proceeding with the rehearsed sequence and I remembered it as I went as I'm sure he did too. "You remember," I commented, impressed. "Of course I do," he said obviously through a giggle and rolled out from underneath the ship. "How could I forget?" He asked, appalled and bent down toward me, reaching out to grab my wrists and help pull me up, to which I smiled. "Good to see the coma hasn't changed you," I said as I allowed myself to be pulled up by him, but what I'd really meant was that I was glad to see the time apart hadn't changed us. "Hands up, rebel," a voice that sounded muffled by a helmet and sounded like Rex's ordered me as I felt the barrel of a gun dig into my back and my eyes widened as my hands shot up, immediately compliant. I centered my focus wholly on Sawyer, wanting to protect him from being shot more than myself, but the smile had been wiped from his face and he looked at me with eyes full of regret, not a trace of fear or surprise to be seen. "Be careful with him, please," he beseeched the person behind me as he leaned to the side to look at them. "Sawyer," I furrowed my brow and shook my head, confused as the pressure against my back was relieved. He looked down, unable to maintain eye contact and fidgeted with his hands. "What's going on?" I asked and looked up at my wrists as two white gloved hands seized them and pinned them behind my back, latching handcuffs around them. "Everything's gonna be okay, buddy, alright?" Sawyer took a step toward me and cupped my face in his hands as tears pooled in his eyes when he smiled unconvincingly and he stroked my cheeks with his thumbs. "No, Sawyer, please," I whimpered, struggling against the restraint of the cuffs while trying to keep my head still so as not to jerk it out of his hands. "Tell me what's happening," I pleaded. "I'm not losing you again," he said seriously, taking a step back from me and letting his hands drop down to his sides. I cocked my head, realizing he had that backward, I was the one who'd lost him, but I knew if we could talk this out rationally, I could understand his perspective. The only way we could talk rationally was if I was out of these handcuffs though because I couldn't be calm and logical while I was bound and if the only way I was getting out of these handcuffs was to make a promise to him, I was going to. It was a promise I was willing to make also, one I'd practically already made in my heart anyway. "You won't, I promise," I assured him. "I want the same thing." He disagreed with me though, shaking his head. "Rebel destroyed my trust and now I'm going to destroy everything she loves," he growled, his eyes glowing a blazing sith yellow as his fingers curled up into fists. He was right, I did not want the same thing he wanted. Everything Rebel loved was everything I loved, my wife, my daughter, my nieces, my nephew, my sister, my brothers-in-law, my tooka, my anooba, my second family, me, I hope. Well, okay then, it wasn't everything I loved, it wasn't my best friend. Unless…No, I couldn't allow him to do this to himself. Even if he wasn't going to destroy himself along with us, he'd involuntarily be doing so because the weight of the mistake alone would crush him. I have to put a stop to this. "Sawyer." I swallowed hard as the person behind me began dragging me away. "Sawyer, I love you," I called out to him, trying to dissuade him from committing this horrible error. I saw him wince and turn away from me as I could tell what this decision was doing to him. "I want the very best for you," I reminded him of my pure intentions, how I would never encourage him to make a decision that would harm him. "You know that." That was a fact that was made well known throughout our relationship and if he couldn't see that, he was blind. "But this is not healthy." I gestured at the base he was planning to destroy by jutting my chin out toward it instead of pointing at it with my finger as I would've done since I realized my hands were still chained behind my back. "I love you too, Ash," he murmured, looking back at me over his shoulder. "You're the only person I still care about that hasn't betrayed me and I want to save you." He turned to face me fully and I again tilted my head, utterly clueless. I finally realized he had been serious about Rebel remarrying and that was how she'd "betrayed" him, but he was being ridiculous. If he really loved her, wouldn't he want her to be happy? Although, if I'm being honest, if Rue even thought about remarrying when she specifically promised not to, I would most likely react the exact same way. However, I didn't see how the rest of the rebellion had betrayed him and if he was sparing me, but was going to force me to do nothing while my friends, my family were murdered, I would rather be killed alongside them. "That's why I'm doing this," he concluded, seeming as though he thought himself to be completely reasonable. "Please understand, my friend," he implored, pressing his palms together in a prayerful motion and I knew where I'd heard that very phrase before, his father. I struggled harder against the handcuffs as the unidentified person continued shoving me up the ramp to the ship. "Ash!" Just as they placed their heavy, imposing hand on my shoulder as an indication for me to duck in order to fit through the entryway, I heard my favorite voice in the universe call out my name. "Rue!" I spun around, yelling out her name before I even saw her. "Put him in the cargo hold," Sawyer commanded with his back facing me and gestured toward the person behind me with a careless flick of his wrist. I finally spotted Rue with her hands tied behind her back being lined up in a row of rebels to be executed as she was shoved to the ground and landed on her knees with a yelp. I felt more anger than I ever have in my entire life as I was forced to turn around again and face the inside of the ship, it was a fury that made my insides feel like they were on fire. "Sawyer," I glanced at him as I was given one final push to enter the ship and he turned around, looking up at me. "I was wrong about you. You have changed."