"Life as a Dyad"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 25

D-O rolled into the living room, where his friend Ben was lying on the couch, staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling, his arm hanging limp over the side of the cushion, as still as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. "Friend?" the droid asked, nudging Ben's arm with his head, but Ben gave no response, no indication that he had even heard.

Maybe he was sleeping with his eyes open. Was that something humans could do? D-O didn't think they did it often and he'd certainly never seen Ben do it. "Friend?" he asked again. "A-are you okay?"

"No," Ben mumbled, still staring at the ceiling as if trying to find meaning in it.

"Wh-what's wrong?"

"Everything," said Ben. "I can't hold a job for more than a day, I can't go out in public without getting scorned, I'm in danger of being arrested again, my son's angry at me, everything."

D-O nuzzled Ben's hand again, though it was still limp. "I-I'm sorry. Can I help?"

"I wish you could, buddy." Finally his hand moved to stroke the droid's head. "But I fucked everything up years ago and I can't fix it. Even prison time didn't fix anything."

D-O wondered what would be the appropriate response to that. Confirming what Ben said would likely make him feel worse, but denying it might also make him feel worse. What did humans do when anything said could make the other human feel worse?

"I-I'm sorry." He'd heard humans say that when other humans were sad, though it seemed inadequate.

Still Ben wouldn't look down from the ceiling. "I'm fifty-two. Fifty-two. My mom died when she was fifty-four. In three years I'll be older than she ever got to be." An abrupt breath through his nose, as if he were trying to keep himself from crying. "The murderous son lives longer than the heroic mother – how the hell is that fair?"

"Sh-she gave her life for you," D-O said hesitantly.

"Yeah, I know. She gladly did it." Another one of those abrupt nose-breaths. "At fifty-two, people expect you to be stable, not . . . whatever the hell I am."

D-O was pretty sure this was what humans called depression and he was also pretty sure that his programming wasn't equipped to fix it. "C-counseling?"

Ben let out a long sigh. "Counseling. People talk about counseling as if it magically fixes everything. It doesn't."

D-O wished Ben would look at him. "Th-then what can help?"

Once more Ben ran his hand over the droid's head, though his eyes were still fixed on the ceiling. "I don't think anything can."

. . .

For the next few days, Ben practically lived on the couch. As soon as Rey went to work, he'd flop down on the couch and stay there until she got home, only leaving to use the refresher. His muscles felt stiff and unused, but he lacked any energy to exercise. Sometimes he turned the holovid on, sometimes he didn't – not that it mattered much since he never paid attention to what was on. Sometimes he dozed off, sometimes he didn't. Waking, sleeping, what was the difference?

When the Force linked him with his wife, she tried to talk to him, she begged him to say something, anything, but what was there to say? How could he respond when they both knew it was pointless to believe that his life could go anywhere?

Monster, murderer. Those labels would always follow him no matter what he did. Maybe he should just face the truth.

It was pointless to do anything.

. . .

"Ben? Ben? Please, Ben, talk to me! Talk to me!"

Rose tried to concentrate on the speeder she was fixing, but it was hard to ignore Rey's cries to her husband. Usually Rey didn't want anyone to bother her when the Force linked her with her husband, and Rose generally tried to respect that, but should she respect that now, when Rey was sobbing so hard that it was shaking her body?

Finally Rose put down her wrench, wiped her hands with a rag, and headed over to Rey, who was sobbing over a table, gripping at an invisible hand. "Ben, please. Don't sink into despair. We can find a way, it's not too late, please just let me help you."

Suddenly her hands fell, which Rose took to mean that Ben had vanished. Rey stared at her empty hands as another sob pushed its way out.

"Rey?" Rose asked in a small voice.

Rey slowly turned around to face her, eyes red and puffy. "He's shutting me out," she said in a shaky voice. "Ever since he got fired he's refusing to do anything, including go to his therapy appointments."

"Well can't his parole officer make him go to appointments?"

"I don't know," said Rey. "Maybe she thinks making him go to appointments would be counterproductive, I don't know, but he can't keep living like this!"

Rose opened her arms and Rey fell into them, squeezing her friend like a frightened child squeezing a toy. "I don't know what to do," she cried, her body shaking in Rose's arms.

"You'll figure something out."

"It doesn't matter if I figure something out – he's not letting me in!"

Rose ran her hands up and down Rey's back, but the tension in her muscles wouldn't relax.

"I think he's given up," Rey continued.

"Don't say that."

Rey pulled out of the embrace, grabbing a handful of tissues from the table and blowing her nose into them. "Why not? What if it's the truth?"

"Even if it is, that doesn't mean you should give up on him."

Rey sniffled. "What would you do if Jannah or the girls gave up and shut you out? If you had to watch someone you love fade away like this?"

What would Rose do? She tried to imagine Jannah lying on the couch like Rey said Ben always was, staring at the ceiling with lifeless eyes, being unwilling to do anything. What would she do if her wife who was always so full of life became like that? Would she too be crying in hopelessness like Rey was?

"I don't know," Rose admitted, "but I know I wouldn't give up on her." She patted Rey's shoulder. "So don't you give up on him."

"Who said I'm giving up on him?" Rey exclaimed, flinching away and wrapping her arms around herself.

"No one," said Rose, "but if you declare that he's given up, then you're in danger of giving up yourself." Again she put her hand on Rey's shoulder. "You're smart, you can come up with something to help him snap out of it."

"I don't think this is something you just snap out of."

"Then you can at least think of something to help him in general."

Rey gazed down at the table, picking up a wrench and turning it around in her hands as if that would give her the answers. Around and around the wrench went in an almost hypnotic manner.

"Yes Rey," Rose whispered, "you can think of something."

Another turn, two turns, three turns, then finally Rey put the wrench down. "I thought of something," she said in a hesitant voice. "I don't know if it will do any good, but I guess it's worth a try."