Suggested Listening:
Picker's Leave - Rachel Portman (from The Cider House Rules) | ...awake in the night
Fixing Wall-E - Thomas Newman (from WALL-E) | ...the journey to lothal
Katniss Afoot - James Newton Howard (from The Hunger Games) | ...capital city
Somewhere in Time - John Barry (from Somewhere In Time) | ...don't sleep on the floor

"Bring her in!"

Don't bring her in… please…

I squeezed my eyes shut, my mind disconnecting from my body like a fractured bone. I felt my father's hands violently seize my head, his voice like a hammer in my ear.

"Look. LOOK."

My eyes snapped open, my reflexes falling in line, just as they had been trained to do. Before me a sight so horrifying, a body so ripped from humanity that I could actually feel something breaking inside me, some damage so deep I didn't know if it would ever be repaired. A scream escaped me — not a scream, a wail of primal, terrified grief.

"This is what happens, children, to people who betray the Family."

A familiar raspy gulp for air, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. I sprang up in my bed, the blanket damp with sweat. My tiny cabin on the Arrowhead was pitch dark, safe for the glow of the semi-distant lights of Nevarro City emanating through the tiny porthole.

I came back to myself quickly. My irritation with the return of my nightmares was stronger, apparently, than the actual nightmare itself. I put my face in my hands and groaned wearily, slamming my body back down onto my bed. I sobbed a few times, but there were no tears — I was so drained that nothing came but frustration.

I dropped my hands from my face and looked up at the metal grated ceiling. For a moment, I considered getting up and going across the hall to knock on Din's door and beg for comfort — the image of him sweeping open his door and revealing himself stripped of his armor and bleary with sleep, taking in my frightened face and immediately wrapping his arms around me was tempting… but I stamped it out.

After tonight, I was convinced that I had deluded myself — that any affection on his part had been from a general fondness and nothing more. I let out a long, self-soothing sigh as I remembered his voice as he described the plan — we were to travel to the planet Lothal in the morning, park the Arrowhead in a port in Capital City, and take a shuttle to the small, rural settlement of Kothal. There, my aunt would meet me and we would travel back to her farm together. She didn't want us bringing the Arrowhead down near her farm — she lived with her head down and her business private, and a pre-Empire ship appearing out of the sky felt too risky.

"I agree with her," Din had said as we discussed it. "We've got to do this as quietly as possible. The last thing I want is to disrupt."

Not once had he stopped and asked me if I wanted to do this.

And I did! I thought of my aunt's sallow face in the hologram and my heart turned over. I couldn't believe she was alive. I wanted to meet her — I was surprised at how visceral and intense the need to be with her arose within me as soon as I laid eyes on her. I had suddenly felt like I was five years old again, like my little hands were about to reach out, fingers splayed, and ask for her to scoop me up and protect me. I had spent much of the night before sleep wondering, with a sick, cold feeling in my gut, who that woman had been all those years ago. The woman whose desecrated corpse my father had thrown before my brother and I to teach us a lesson. I bet she didn't even matter, as far as he was concerned, I thought with a swell of rage. She could've been anyone.

I did want to meet my aunt again. And the idea of staying with her on her farm was almost unbelievable — opening the vault and commiserating with someone who could genuinely understand, firsthand, everything I had been through. Having a place to call home, with someone who loved me in the way that only kin can love somebody.

But at the same time, the idea of watching Din fly away in our ship made me feel hollow.

"I'm glad you'll be with your family," he had said, in a low, earnest voice. "I know what that means to you."

"But I'll miss you," I had willed him to say, but it didn't come. Instead, he had said through a quiet, small smile, "I can't wait to hear all about it when we meet up again."

He sounded so resolved, so okay with everything. And I felt like a mess.

I didn't sleep again. Instead I watched the light change outside the porthole — amber streetlights to white-blue twilight to soft pink hazy sunrise — and got up with the dawn. To my surprise, when I walked into the cockpit clinging my newly-cleaned jacket around my chilly shoulders, I found Din already in his chair.

"Good morning," he said when he saw me.

"Hi," I replied. "Guess you had the same thought I did."

"Early start?"

I nodded and took my copilots seat, and without a word, we lifted the ship into the air together and began our journey.

Most of the day was spent in quiet cohabitation. There was no stoniness between us, nothing like that — but I got the impression that neither of us had slept well, and we allowed for a tired silence without judgment. After a while, I turned to him, determined to make the best of the bizarre situation.

"So, what do you think you'll do next? After you drop me off, I mean."

He took a long, thoughtful breath.

"For one thing, I'm gonna get the coordinates from Cara Dune, go see the Armorer, get this fixed." He tapped the side of his helmet that sported the dent given by the acid lizard on Tatooine. I was so used to it, I had forgotten it wasn't actually part of the design.

"Oh good," I said wryly. "I didn't want to say anything, but yeah, that's not a good look."

"Hey," he said, his offense marred with an amused chuckle. "I earned it."

"That you did," I smiled. A moment passed. "Do you think you'll check in with Grogu?"

He sighed.

"He's on his path," he said. "I don't want to get in the way."

"You're not in the way, you're in his life. Maybe he would want to see you."

"Ahsoka made it clear — his attachment to me puts him in danger. When you care about something, you step away from it if it's what's right."

I bristled.

"Well maybe you should ask him how he feels about that before you make that decision."

I knew that I wasn't talking about Grogu anymore. He turned to look at me, but didn't respond right away. Instead, he thought for a moment, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"Maybe."

"I'm just saying," I said in a softer, lighter voice after a moment. "I'm not gonna be here to keep an eye on you, I gotta make sure you're in good hands."

He chuckled.

"I think I'll be fine — although I'm gonna have to learn how to flirt my way out of sticky situations, I guess."

"I don't know," I laughed. "You're gonna have to unlearn some grumpiness first."

"I'm not grumpy," he said sincerely, in the grumpiest voice I'd ever heard, and I laughed again.

"Well fine," he continued with a tone of affronted mirth. "You're gonna have to work on your muscle tone then. Farm life is hard work. I won't be there to lift up the heavy stuff."

"How dare you," I deadpanned, and flexed my biceps — which, of course, were pathetically small in comparison. "You're gonna miss these guns."

He chuckled and shook his head, then breathed in like he was going to reply, but nothing was said. My smile faltered for a second as I felt another swell of sadness, pushing down the urge to tell him how much I actually was going to miss. He cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"You hungry?"

By the time we landed on Lothal, the sun was setting. The pink and orange beams glimmered on the imposing, reaching white spires of Capital City. We docked on the outskirts and I mounted a duffel on my back, taking lingering, loving last looks around the cockpit.

"Let me carry that," said Din, but I shook my head.

"I've gotta build up my biceps, remember?"

He forced a small chuckle, but the mood was plummeting. I bit my lip and looked away, fighting tears. I was relieved to feel that reality was setting in for both of us, as was an inescapable sadness.

"You ready?" He asked.

I nodded, touching the back of my copilots chair one last time.

"Hey," he said softly. "It's not like you won't sit there again, someday."

I looked up at him and forced a tight smile as my stomach sank. I wanted to believe him… but all my old walls were rebuilding around me. You can't count on anyone but yourself, I thought. I learned that long ago.

We moved through Capital City discreetly and purposefully. I snuck looks around at my new home planet, and was impressed — the city was beautiful, and the people seemed interesting. I had gathered from Din that the planet used to be under Imperial rule, but had since been liberated. That fact struck me — it seemed odd that my aunt would settle on an Imperial planet of all places, but then I thought about what her options were, realistically, at the time.

We arrived at a transportation hub and boarded a shuttle. My nerves had resurfaced — my eyes flicked around to scan the crowd with hypervigilance, trying to suss out any hint of recognition. Din garnered a few looks but none lingered.

By the time we arrived at Kothal, it was far into the night and a heavy rainfall had descended on the valley. Our fellow travelers disembarked with yawns and open umbrellas before they scattered to their various lives.

"There's an inn down the road," Din said to me, taking my duffel off of the ground before I had a chance to. "We might get a little wet."

We hurried through the rain and the dark until we came upon an old, run-down tavern and inn. As we stepped inside, I pushed my wet hair out of my face and looked around. It was a worn and industrial place, with what looked like a regular patronage of farmers and other agricultural workers. Din led me to the front desk where a Xexto stood, it's many spindly arms reaching around to accomplish various office tasks.

"Any vacancies?" Asked Din gruffly.

"Ahh, yes, you need bath!" said the Xexto in broken Common. I stifled a snicker at the blunt observation.

"Beds, more importantly," answered Din, less amused.

The Xexto laughed and nodded, one of his arms reaching back to retrieve a key card from the rear wall. It held the card out between Din and I.

"Twelve credits. One room left."

Din and I looked at each other, and I felt my face flush.

We walked silently down the shabby hallway, coming to a faded red door with an unrecognizable character on it. Din put in the key card and it whooshed open, revealing a small, utilitarian room with a dresser, a jug of water, and one full bed with a scratchy-looking duvet.

I withheld eye contact as I processed the fact that if we were both going to bunk in here, the sleeping options were pretty singular. I don't know why it felt so different — we had fallen asleep together in the cockpit many times. We had fallen asleep under the stars in the desert. Why did this feel so very, very different? I pointed at the narrow bathroom that jutted off of the room.

"I'm just gonna…" I trailed off, making my way into the bathroom and closing the door with a clunky mechanical noise. Once alone, I splashed some cold water on my face and leaned over the sink, looking myself in the mirror. My eyes traced my face — the tired creases, the tears threatening to brim, the scar above my right eyebrow serving as a reminder of my commitment to our bond.

I wanted to feel happy on the eve of meeting the only family I had that could actually be a part of my life — and part of me did, but a bigger, more present part of me in this moment felt wretched.

I bathed quickly and changed into the nightgown I had bought at the market. When I emerged, it looked at first like Din had left, but then I spied him sitting on the floor propped up against the wall with a borrowed pillow from the bed.

"Din," I said, exhaustedly. "Don't sleep on the floor."

"I didn't…" he cleared his throat, quietly. "I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"I don't," I said, slipping under the covers — the duvet was as scratchy as it looked but the sheets were surprisingly comfortable. I didn't have the energy to shroud my invitation in any niceties. "Just… come up here. It's fine."

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly got to his feet and wandered over. I was careful to stay far on my side, even though the bed was barely big enough for two. With another throat clear, he took off his cloak and put it neatly on the dresser, then sat down on the edge of the bed and removed his boots with effort. Finally, he opened the covers and lay down, stiffly, armor and all.

"Sorry," he said, and I don't think either of us were quite sure exactly what he was apologizing for.

I smiled despite myself.

"Are you comfortable in all that?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"I'm used to it."

We lay in the dark in silence for a while. If I listened very hard, I could make out his breathing.

"She's meeting us here tomorrow morning?"

"On the outskirts of town," he said. "She gave me coordinates."

"Great," I murmured ambiguously. After a moment, I heard him swallow.

"Are you okay with all this?" He asked in a small voice. "I mean… is this what you want?"

Finally. Finally, he had asked. I let out a breath I didn't even realize I had been holding. I thought about saying no. I thought about telling him everything, every feeling swimming in my chest. But we had come this far — and he had done all this for me. Besides, I did want to be reunited with her. Despite the abject pain of parting with Din, a big part of me knew I had to do this.

"Yes," I answered eventually. "I think it's right."

He was silent for a moment.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my nerves buzzing, afraid of what he might say.

"Of course," he replied quickly. "I'm happy for you."

I swallowed and took a deep breath.

"Thank you. For everything."

He didn't answer, and I let the conversation fade.

After what felt like ages, when I was confident he was asleep, I rolled off of my back onto my side to face him.

He was lying on his back, his chest plate gently rising and falling with his breath. My gaze followed the outline of his helmet, silhouetted in the dark against the moonlit window. I felt a tear slide over the bridge of my nose, and I bit my lip when I realized I was crying. He's right there, I thought to myself. All I'd have to do is reach over and touch him. All I'd have to do is say something, right now.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I was too afraid, and it all felt too late. If there had been a chance, I couldn't help feeling like I had missed it. My arms ached with the desire to reach for him, but I kept my hands firmly locked underneath my head, consoling myself with taking in the image of him as much as I could with the limited time I had left. I studied every divot and curve of his helmet, memorizing him until the space behind my eyes began to smart.

I don't know when I fell asleep, but the next thing I knew, I was scrunching my eyes against the beams of morning sunlight. I fluttered my eyes open and fought the impulse to gasp. I was laying as I had been the night before, on my right side facing Din. Sometime in the night, he had rolled onto his side, too, and when I opened my eyes, I saw his T-visor. He was laying, facing me, with his helmet gently touching my forehead. He was clearly deep asleep — his breaths were slow and restful, and his body looked more relaxed than I'd ever seen it. I froze, dreading the inevitable awkwardness that would arise if he woke up — and tempted to keep the moment for as long as I possibly could. After an indulgent moment, I knew I had to move. Holding my breath, I slowly began edging away, trying to keep the sheets from rustling. I swung my feet off the bed and sat up, rubbing my eyes. I heard Din stir behind me, his breath catching in a subtle gasp like he had been dreaming. When I looked over my shoulder, he was propped up on his elbows, looking around the room groggily.

"What time is it?" He mumbled.

"Early," I answered, judging by the slant of the rays. Din looked up at me, and I cast him a small wan smile. He nodded, slowly.

"We better get moving."