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wild-karrde · 2 years

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One Step at a Time - Part 7

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A/N: After a long (and somewhat unplanned) hiatus, WE'RE BACK. I have seriously missed writing these guys. As always, thank you to the absolutely phenomenal @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this chapter for me!

Chapter Rating: M

Warnings: language, graphic description of injury

Word Count: 7.7k words

The months bled together at such a blissful speed that life prior to the end of the war almost seemed to be something Chuckles had dreamed rather than experienced firsthand. Every once in a while, there was a reminder of their previous lives: Arni’s gaze growing distant when talking about something they’d learned, undoubtedly at the temple’s archives, the way Nita’s eyes occasionally flicked to the compartment her kyber crystal was stashed in, as though she could still hear it calling to her, or a glimpse of Chuck’s armor when he needed to retrieve something from the storage locker he’d stuffed it in. The magenta paint on the plastoid was beginning to become more obscured by a thick layer of dust as time progressed. Unconsciously, he always brushed the stars on his helmet clear before tucking everything back into place and closing the door to it.

The ship became more of a home as well. The bunk the younglings shared was now lit with strings of lights that Arni had salvaged and arranged in certain constellations to teach Nita about the different star maps. Dried flowers and some of Arni’s drawings were stuck to the interior walls, and a magenta painted trooper doll with stars on its helmet rested against the new pillows Oksann had made for them. Chuck and Ry had installed a crude pull-down bunk for him against one of the main walls of the hold, but Chuckles found that he actually had grown accustomed to sleeping in the pilot’s seat. He claimed it was for comfort, but deep down, he was certain that it was that he slept too deeply on the bunk. There wasn’t a night that went by where he hadn’t been afraid Broog’s brethren would come hunting him, even with the months that separated the incident. He hoped that one day, he’d feel safe enough to sleep on the bunk regularly, but for right now, he wasn’t done looking over his shoulder.

The kitchenette of the ship was now well-stocked with three wooden bowls that sat near the sink, two of them smaller than the third with matching cups. A vase sat in the middle of the small table, frequently filled with whatever flowers Nita had picked that day. The trees around the ship had larger lights woven in among their branches as well, and the path to and from the ship’s main hatch had become worn with footprints, tamping down the grass until it gave way to dark dirt that would turn to mud in Sorgan’s occasional rains.

It’s another rain that woke Chuck, the droplets softly pattering against the transparisteel of the ship’s forward viewport. The pilot shifted in his seat for a moment before a low grumble of thunder sounded in the distance, finally bringing his consciousness fully to bear. His amber eyes fluttered open, taking in the dark clouds looming above, swirling in the planet’s upper atmospheric winds. Inhaling deeply, Chuck breathed in the smell of rain and damp earth as he stretched his limbs above his head. His shoulders popped satisfyingly, and he sighed, rolling his head on his neck before running his hands through his dark curls. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had his hair this long, but it was beginning to bother him slightly.

Maybe today’s the day I’ll finally take Ry up on that haircut she’s been offering.

About the fifth time he’d brushed his sweaty curls out of his eyes the week before, Ry had offered him a piece of fabric to tie around his forehead, keeping his bangs out of his face.

“I know you’re trying to look less like a soldier, but you might be taking it one step too far with that mop,” she teased quietly. “Why don’t you let me trim it a bit?”

“I think I’d rather have Oks do it,” he joked.

“Togrutas don’t have hair. What makes you think she’s qualified?”

“I’d take my chances.”

Ry had rolled her eyes before getting flagged down by a patron. The topic hadn’t come up again, but now as he noted his dark curls hanging over his eyebrows, he blew at them huffily, seriously reconsidering the offer.

The sound of the bunk door sliding open made him turn, and he suppressed a smile as Nita’s sleepy form emerged. She shut the door to allow Arni to keep sleeping before toddling over to him, rubbing her eyes. She shook her head, and that’s when he noticed her bangs were hanging in her eyes as well, her silver curls dangling slightly lower than his darker ones. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

Definitely might need to take Ry up on that haircut. And see if she’ll do one for Nita as well.

He’d made a ham-fisted attempt at trimming Nita’s hair early on and wound up with her silver locks looking more like an abstract art installation than a haircut fit for a child. Nita had giggled uncontrollably at the way her bangs had zig-zagged like a rocky mountain range across her forehead while Arni promised they could probably fix it. Chuckles hadn’t stopped apologizing until Arni had rectified the damage as much as they could.

Yeah. Gonna have to comm Ry later.

He grinned at the little Pantoran. “Morning, kiddo. You’re up early.”

Nita blearily returned the smile before leaning against the arm of his seat. “The thunder woke me up.”

Another bolt of lightning flashed in the sky, close enough to be followed by a loud growl of thunder seconds later. Nita jumped a little, reflexively stepping a little closer to Chuckles.

“You’re not scared are you?” he asked, glancing down at her.

“No,” she said, but he didn’t miss the way she chewed nervously at a fingernail. Leaning over, he scooped her into his lap, pulling the blanket he’d used the night before up over them both. Another bright flash of lightning erupted outside of the viewport, the thunder chasing it with an even louder roar this time that rattled the freighter. Chuck could feel the rumbling in the floor of the ship beneath his feet as Nita gripped his shirt, snuggling more into his chest.

Every now and then, Chuckles thought about how naturally he’d felt affection for the two younglings and how easily the hugs and snuggles had been when they were needed. He wasn’t certain if it came from constantly being surrounded by his brothers growing up, which often resulted in being tackled to the ground as a sign of affection or holding one another when things got tough. Either way, he’d never felt hesitant holding Nita or hugging Arni when it seemed that it would help, and they’d never appeared to feel uncomfortable around him, and he was grateful at least that much had been easy as they figured out how to be a family. He wrapped his arms around Nita a little tighter.

“I’ve got you, honey. It’s alright.” He rested his chin on top of her head, and he felt her shudder slightly.

“Why is it so loud?” she muttered with a hint of annoyance that made Chuckles grin, as if the fear was an inconvenience for her. He chewed the inside of his cheek to try and quell the laughter at her furrowed brows and exasperated expression as she glared at the storm clouds.

“You know, when I was a cadet, I used to be afraid of the thunder too,” he said quietly. “You know what one of my trainers told me?”

Nita��s large golden eyes turned upwards to meet his. “What?”

“You know how everyone has their own set of gods or deities that they worship?”

She nodded.

“Well, the trainer told me that thunder and lightning were just them having a petty squabble. When the thunder comes, it’s because they’re really mad and are yelling at one another. My brothers and I used to try and decide what they might be arguing about. It was always silly stuff, like who had the most stylish outfit or whose turn it was to spin the galaxy on its axis.”

Nita giggled in his lap, turning to face the viewport and letting her head gently rest against him. “What do you think they’re arguing about today?” she asked.

Chuckles stroked his chin contemplatively as another flash of lightning and low rumble of thunder erupted outside. Nita jumped at the sound again, pressing back against Chuckles. He wrapped his arms around her a little tighter, and he felt her hands grip his forearms through the blanket.

“Oh, that definitely sounds like Kunik today,” he concluded.

“What’s a Kunik?”

“Kunik is the name of a Trianni goddess, and she’s all about bitter retribution and swift death. She’s not a lot of fun and really can’t take a joke.”

Nita huffed a quiet laugh, pulling the blanket up under her chin. “Who do you think she’s mad at?”

Chuckles shrugged. “Probably Nododo. He’s a Gungan god that is quite the prankster. I imagine he probably did something that got under her skin, and she’s letting us know all about it.”

“What do you think he did?” Nita asked.

“Maybe swapped her sugar for salt. Perhaps he dyed her hair in her sleep. Moved the stars in her constellations around. I hear she’s very particular about those.”

Nita giggled softly, facing forward and letting her head rest back against Chuckles as the lightning flashed again and the rain slapped against the viewport with a renewed fervor. When the thunder roared again, louder than before, Nita leaned forward on his lap.

“KNOCK IT OFF, NODODO!” she shouted, and this time, Chuckles couldn’t contain his giggle. He tipped his head back and laughed, loud and joyful from deep within his chest. He’d been having more of those moments lately, where he laughed from amusement rather than nerves or fear. His shoulders were relaxed, his chest warm as he grinned down at the young Pantoran.

“You tell ‘em, honey.”

Nita smiled, pushing herself off of his lap and coming to stand at the flight console, raising herself up on her toes as another bolt of lightning streaked past. “THAT’S ENOUGH, KUNIK!” The thunder ignored her scolding, but this time, she didn’t withdraw.

“JUST APOLOGIZE ALREADY!”

Chuckles leaned forward. “YEAH! APOLOGIZE!”

“YEAH!”

“What’s all the shouting about?” Arni asked, poking their head out of the bunk. Their lekku draped over the edge of the mattress, dangling towards the floor as they sleepily stared at Nita and Chuckles. The birthmark on their cheek stretched as they yawned before rolling out of the bunk and slowly making their way over to stand next to Chuckles’s chair.

“Kunik and Nododo are fighting, and I want them to just make up already,” Nita said matter-of-factly before turning back to the viewport, watching for more signs of the godly squabble. Arni shot Chuckles a questioning look.

“Tell you later,” he whispered. Arni nodded.

---

“Alright, kiddo, out of the water!”

“Oh, come on! Five more minutes!”

“Nope, I promised Ry we’d be over before supper so she could trim our mops. Now come on,” Chuckles teased, waving the towel he’d brought at Nita. She huffed a sigh before diving under the surface of the pond once more and swimming towards where he and Arni stood in the shallows. Arni had their pants rolled to their knees and was crouching in the water, sifting through the mud.

“Find anything?” Nita asked as she surfaced, clambering towards Chuckles, who wrapped her up in a towel, scooping her out of the water and carrying her towards the shore. The little Pantoran squealed as Chuckles rubbed a corner of the towel over her hair, ruffling it playfully. Her damp silver hair stood on end, and she giggled as she tried to smooth it down, only driving Chuckles to ruffle it more before blowing a raspberry against her cheek.

“Nothing interesting today,” Arni replied, tossing the stone they’d been examining and skipping it across the surface.

“That’s alright, kid. Less to carry with you. It’s a longer walk anyway,” Chuck said as he continued wading towards the shore.

The pond had become a frequent stop for the three of them when traveling into the settlement together. Arni had discovered it during one of their treks into the common house, wandering a little off the main path to find the clear little pond that seemed to be teeming with rocks and shells that the Twi’lek wanted to study. Fed by the rainwater, the pond was as clear as transparisteel in its shallows, revealing a treasure trove of items, and on the deeper end, it faded to a deep blue where you could still see a good distance into its depths. The first time they’d stopped, both of the younglings had stripped down to their underthings and waded in while Chuckles stood nervously on the shore.

He had never told the two younglings about the accident that had left the large scar across his face, but it was what kept him from wading into the crystal blue water. The fighter he’d been flying that day had a cascading failure that started with an electrical short in the system and completely fried all of his flight hardware.

“MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!”

There was no response as the cockpit filled with the smell of burnt electronics and the craft began to lose altitude. Chuckles frantically tried to activate the control surfaces to slow his descent, but the fighter began to dive in an uncontrolled spin. The sky blurred past, and then the ocean, and then the sky again. It had been one of Kamino’s rare sunny days, the perfect day for flying. Until it wasn’t.

Kriff. Not like this.

His heart leapt into his throat, quickly followed by his stomach as the cockpit flipped over again. He swallowed bile as his pulse hammered in his ears. Every emergency alert was screaming at him, the red and yellow alarm lights beginning to blur as his vision wavered. He fought against the urge to black out.

Handle. Find the eject handle. Under the left side of your seat.

The fingers of his left hand fumbled for the handle, his right hand braced against the side of the fighter. He felt the smooth metal rod with the grip on the end and almost giggled with relief. He tried to time it right, to where he was pointing towards the sky so he wouldn’t be shot into the sea.

He really tried.

He pulled the handle. He waited.

Nothing happened.

He tugged again.

Nothing.

Chuckles let loose a roar of a curse, his eyes welling with tears of frustration.

Not like this.

He gripped the handle and pulled with all of his might as the fighter swung upright once more.

The cockpit began to open. The charges blew. Chuckles felt his seat lurch before his body was slammed into the canopy, his helmet flying off and his face connecting with the shattered transparisteel. He felt warmth on his cheek as his body connected with the surface with a sickening thud. Blood ran in his eyes. The clear, razor-sharp shards rained down on around him, glinting in the sunlight as they sliced through his black undersuit and any exposed skin.

And then he was falling.

It felt like an eternity before his chute deployed, and when it did, the sharp tug of it made him yelp in pain. Every inch of his body ached and several places felt like they were on fire, but none of his flesh was burning. He reached up with a trembling hand and touched his face. His cheek seared, and his fingers came back covered in blood. He screamed in agony.

The water should have been a welcome embrace, but it was just a new threat to his survival. The salt in the water felt like it was embedding itself in his wounds, stinging the raw and bloodied flesh and adding to his pain so much he turned his head and vomited. He fumbled to try and feel for the flotation pack he had on his seat. His body barely functioned, and his frustration and fear grew. The seat was already underwater. The first wave rolled over him.

He was underwater, trying to keep his mouth closed, and yet his mouth was still filling with water. One of his arms wasn’t working, and it took forever to unlatch his flight harness and orient himself upwards.

Follow the bubbles. Remember your training. Focus. Survive.

Every kick against the water shot pain up his leg to his hip. He fought the urge to scream as he flailed towards the surface. His head broke the water, and he gasped for air, but just as soon as his lungs filled with air, another wave plunged him under once more.

He wasn’t certain how long he’d spent in the water, fighting death less and less with every passing wave. He had wondered what drowning would feel like, if he would hurt more than he already was, or if it would be a welcome relief. Just as he’d almost decided to let the next wave take him, the rescue ships had arrived. Ungentle hands had yanked him aboard as he screamed. The medic leaning over him had sworn under his breath, his helmet’s modulator doing little to mute it. Chuckles tried to take in his injuries, but every time he turned his head, he found broken limbs and bloodied flesh that he didn’t recognize. A slight pinch in his neck brought him the mercy of unconsciousness.

The recovery had been long, leaving permanent pain in some joints that would haunt him when the weather changed. His scar was the most visible reminder, but the dreams of black, cold waves pulling him under while water poured in through his cheek was what haunted him the most.

The first time Arni had waded out into the water, beckoning him, Chuckles had hesitated. His heart was hammering in his chest as his fingers drifted absently to the scar on his face. He had shuddered.

But he’d watched the two children squeal and splash in the water, their joy softening some of the fear he still harbored. Nita had waded out to a deeper part, paddling clumsily, her head occasionally slipping under the surface. She spluttered.

“Do you know how to swim, honey?” Chuckles had asked, his chest tightening with concern.

“I’m fine,” she called back before splashing awkwardly back to the shallows.

In that moment, Chuckles decided his fear was worth overcoming to ensure Nita would never flounder in the water the way he had that day.

You’re their pilot. Their protector. This is how you keep her safe.

Taking a deep breath, he had stripped off his shirt and boots and waded in.

Visiting the pond had become a regular occurrence after that. Chuckles would teach Nita to swim and float while Arni dug around in the shallows for various treasures for them to catalog in their journal or bring home to decorate the ship. They found shells, beautifully worn stones, and even a few fossils. Other days, they joined Chuckles and Nita swimming, giving some pointers when Nita struggled and cheering her on when she mastered certain skills.

With time, Chuckles’s memory of the water changed, replaced with the memory of Nita squealing triumphantly as she made it across the pond’s depths and into his arms and Arni gleefully showing him their latest discovery. Soon, the water became a place he looked forward to visiting, a place that brought joy instead of fear.

Now, as he waded to the shoreline, the feel of the warm mud between his toes made him smile as he looked down at the tiny Pantoran he cradled, who was squirming in the towel he had wrapped around her. Arni was close behind, heading for where they’d placed their boots and socks. Chuckles set Nita on the grass before clambering up next to her, picking her outer clothing up off the grass and handing it to her. Nita mumbled something about wanting to swim a little more as she pulled her tunic over her head, and Chuckles smirked at her indignance.

“I know, I know, but we both really need haircuts, and we all know I’m no good at that.”

Nita gave him one last glare before she sat down to pull her boots on. Chuckles smiled at her, unphased. He’d seen what her real anger looked like, and he knew this wasn’t it.

Maker help anyone that crosses her when she’s a teenager.

He picked up the rucksack he’d carried, eyeing the mid-afternoon sun as he stuffed the towel back into the bottom of it. The days were lengthening as Sorgan’s northern atmosphere entered its summer season, and he was grateful that they weren’t likely to be walking home in the dark. Nita and Arni both pushed themselves to their feet, and the three of them headed back towards the main path that led to the settlement.

After another half an hour, they arrived at Ry and Oksann’s dwelling. It was a simple mortar and thatch building with a single front window that faced what served as a street. A few boxes of flowers hung from the window’s ledge, vines trailing down to the ground that were dotted with purple blooms. Arni stopped to examine them as Chuckles rapped his knuckles on the door. It opened and Oksann stood there, smiling at the three of them. She signed a greeting that Chuck returned before standing aside and welcoming them in.

Chuckles had been in the dwelling a few times, but he never tired of it. While their freighter had certainly turned into a more comforting place to reside, there was something to be said about a dwelling that was set firmly on the ground, one that was well-lived in and full of evidence of the people and the love that was housed within. It always smelled of earth, herbs, and whatever Oksann was cooking that day. The walls were covered in herbs and vegetables hanging to dry along with some paintings Ry had done and a few holos. The dwelling only had a main living area, a kitchen, a fresher, and a small side room that served as a bedroom. The main area centered a large wooden table that always seemed to be covered in projects that were clearly delineated between the two women. Ry’s side always had datapads and flimsi notes scattered across it while Oksann’s end had her embroidery or some other project laid out neatly, oddly complementing Ry’s chaos.

The outside light still trickled in through the windows, casting long shadows and highlighting dust that swirled in the late afternoon light. Oks took the rucksack off Chuck’s shoulder as he removed his goggles and face mask. Setting the bag on the table, she peered inside and signed a quick thank you before carefully removing some of the items he and Arni had repaired for them. Arni stood to the side, signing to explain the fixes that had been made as the Togruta smiled patiently at them, letting them explain every facet of the repair. Her hand drifted over to some of the embroidery on the table, passing it down to Nita.

What do you think? she asked.

Nita smiled as she signed back with one of the words Arni had taught her. Pretty.

Oksann ran her fingers through Nita’s curls, playfully pushing some of them into her eyes as the little Pantoran giggled.

“Definitely time for a trim,” Ry observed from behind them, coming from the kitchen and wiping her hands on a towel. Coming to stand next to her wife, her eyes roved over the items Chuck and Arni had repaired for them. “Thanks for taking care of these so quickly.”

“Not an issue,” Chuckles replied. “Especially since you’re helping out with the haircuts.”

“Alright, don’t build me up too much,” Ry teased. She squatted down in front of Nita. “You want to go first, sweet girl?”

Nita nodded, and Ry lifted her up onto the table, sitting her on just the edge. “Just the bangs and a bit of a trim then?”

Nita looked over at Chuckles, and he nodded at her. “Tell her what you want, kiddo. It’s all up to you.”

The little Pantoran grinned. “Yeah, I want to keep it long enough to tie up in the ribbons if that’s alright.”

Ry walked over to where a clean stack of laundry was sitting folded in a well-worn chair, pulling a towel from the pile and wrapping it around Nita’s shoulders. “Alright? That sounds perfect to me.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a pair of scissors and a comb and immediately went to work on Nita’s silver tresses. Chuckles pulled out a chair next to the table and sat down to watch as Nita’s feet swung while Ry worked, occasionally pausing and tilting the little girl’s chin so that she could inspect her work. Arni had pulled Oksann over to the corner and was signing at her while pointing at some of the vegetables and herbs that were hanging up to dry. Arni had been teaching Chuckles how to sign, and he had learned enough words to at least gather that Arni was asking Oksann what each bundle was and the drying process. The Togruta explained everything in depth, and he couldn’t help but smile at how Arni’s eyes lit up with each new bit of knowledge that was imparted upon them.

The kid loves to learn about anything and everything. And even more impressive, they remember it all.

“Alright, I think that’ll do it,” Ry said after a while, brushing the last trimmings of hair out of the way and stepping back to see the final result. Helping Nita down, she guided her over to a floor length mirror that was leaned up against one wall. “What do you think?”

Nita stepped closer to the mirror, turning her head and carefully inspecting the haircut from every angle before nodding firmly. “It’s good. Thank you.”

Ry smiled at her. “Glad to help.” She turned to Chuckles. “Alright, your turn, Pops.” She removed the towel from Nita’s shoulders, shaking the clippings into the floor, and draping it over Chuck. She strode to the refresher, returning a few seconds later with a pair of powered clippers. Leaning down, she ruffled his curls experimentally. “So just a trim or you want me to buzz it all?”

“A mohawk!” Nita exclaimed. Chuckles turned and raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged. “You had one when you found us, and I liked it. I was sad when you shaved it off.”

“A mohawk huh?” Ry asked teasingly. “Somehow not surprising in the least.”

“It was dyed a funny color too,” Nita added, coming to stand directly in front of Chuckles, her chin resting in her hand as she appraised him. “You should dye it again.”

Chuckles tipped his head back and laughed loudly at the tiny Pantoran before him. Nita furrowed her brow as Chuck leaned forward in the chair, his smile threatening to split open his face.

“And what color do you think I should dye it, honey?”

Nita’s eyes widened at the burden of the choice. She glanced over to Arni, who was watching the entire exchange with quiet interest. “Just a second,” Nita said quickly before walking over to Arni, whispering loudly. “What color do you think?”

Arni leaned over, whispering into her ear, and her eyes lit up before she became quite serious, nodding to Arni as if to confirm her agreement. She turned back to Chuckles and Ry. “Blue,” she stated with a note of finality.

Ry chuckled before turning to her wife and signing something. Oksann laughed quietly, tapping her finger on her chin before she nodded, signing something back. “Seems as though she might have the flowers we need to make a blue dye. No promises about how well it’ll work, but we’ll see what we can do. She’s done clothing dye before. Surely hair can’t be that hard.”

“You’ll have to bleach it first.”

Ry shrugged. “Easy enough. Believe it or not, I used to bleach some parts of my hair, but gave up when the common house got busy.”

Chuck’s eyes widened. “Now that is surprising.”

Ry nudged him in the shoulder. “Watch it, or I’ll shave something weird into the sides.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened,” he joked.

Nita squealed with delight. “YOU’RE GONNA HAVE BLUE HAIR! YOU’LL BE BLUE TOO!”

Chuckles’s smile widened at the realization as to why they’d chosen that color.

I’ll match the kids.

Ry rested her hand on his shoulder as she addressed the younglings. “Alright, why don’t you two go help Oks get dinner started and then go see if you can find those flowers out in the garden? It’ll take a while for the broth to simmer, and the bread needs an hour or two to bake, so better to start sooner than later. Think you can handle that?”

Both of the younglings nodded eagerly, scuttling off towards the kitchen with Oksann in tow, giggling loudly. Chuckles stared after them, his smile wide until he felt Ry watching him.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Just the first time I think I’ve heard you genuinely laugh in all the time that I’ve known you. It’s a nice sound.” She ran her fingers through his hair again before her hands trailed down the stubble on his face that he’d allowed to grow out in a short haphazard beard. “You could use a shave too.”

“What, you don’t like the beard?”

“That’s less of a beard and more of a womp rat’s nest, Chuckles.”

He smirked. “Doesn’t exactly grow in even around the scar, but I don’t have anything to shave with on the ship. At least, nothing I’d trust around it after my first attempt with the clippers. Almost wound up with even more of a scar.”

“Well lucky for you, I’d hoped to coerce you into a shave today, so I bought supplies. Also, next time a trader comes through, I’ll see if I can grab you a real razor. Seems like there’s a little bit of everything nowadays. And I can’t have my employees looking like Wookiees. Well, unless they’re actually a Wookiee. Now stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Ry strode back to the refresher, returning a few minutes later with a bowl of hot water, a small towel slung over one shoulder, and a box, which she set on the table next to the chair. “Alright, do you trust me?”

“With my life. Most days.”

Ry rolled her eyes. “Good.” She pulled a straight razor from the box next to her along with a smaller towel and other shaving supplies. Taking the small towel, Ry dipped it into the bowl, which was steaming slightly, drenching it completely and wringing it out before gently draping it on his face. “Relax,” she said quietly. “I’ve done this before.”

“When was that?” Chuck asked, his voice slightly muffled by the towel.

Ry paused before exhaling sharply. “My father, a long time ago. He injured his hand on our farm, and he was stubborn and refused to go to the healer, so it never really worked the same. He tried to shave with it despite everything, and wound up bleeding all over the place, so I took over that task. I could at least get him to agree to that much. My mother had a tremor in her hands, so there was no way she could do it.”

“I guess you come by your stubbornness honestly,” Chuckles joked quietly from beneath the towel. When Ry didn’t answer, he pulled the towel off and looked at her. Her gaze was locked on the straight razor in her hand, distant, and her eyes were misty. “Ry, I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to dishonor his memory.”

Ry huffed a laugh, rubbing at her eyes. “No, you’re right. My mother always said I was more like him than anyone.”

“Were they both lost in the attack?”

“No, actually. Dad died the winter before, and Mom followed shortly after. I was fortunately on my own when our settlement was attacked.” She set the razor down, coming over and taking the towel from his hands, flipping it over her shoulder again as she reached for a bottle of oil, rubbing it between her hands before she placed her hands on his face, gently working it in. Chuckles had the sudden realization he couldn’t remember the last time someone touched his face. Ry’s hands were calloused and rough from her work at the common house, but she was unexpectedly gentle. She reached over for a second bottle, working its contents into a lather before carefully smearing it on his face. She rinsed her hands and dried them before picking up the razor. “Alright, now the trick is for you to not move, got it?”

Chuckles looked at the glinting blade before swallowing hard. “Got it.”

Ry firmly gripped his face, tilting him to the angle she needed. His fingers nervously flexed at his side as she brought the blade to his skin. Her eyes darted down to them, and she stepped back. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable, Chuckles.”

He exhaled deeply. “No. It’s ok.” He met her eyes. “I trust you.”

She nodded, approaching again, and he felt himself relax as she pulled his skin taut and the blade made its first stroke near his sideburn.

Ry worked quickly, cleaning the blade in the water as she worked her way down his cheek and across to the other one, moving cautiously around the scar on his cheek. She made certain to narrate everything she did, and slowly, he felt his shoulders release their tension. There was something oddly intimate about it, and Chuckles slowly felt some of the nerves slip away.

You trust her. She won’t hurt you. You can let your guard down here.

Ry shaved away the remnants of his mustache before carefully working the blade over his chin. “And now, the neck. This part’s the trickiest, but I’m good at it. Just don’t fidget.” He swallowed again, and he knew she saw by the way her eyes followed the bob of his Adam’s apple. “You’ve trusted me this far, and you’ll look silly if I quit now.”

“I trust you,” he repeated.

She placed her hand on his face, tilting his head as she ran the blade in short, sure strokes over the skin on his throat. After a few minutes, she stepped back again, rinsing the blade a final time and setting it on the table. She took the towel off of her shoulder, gently wiping at his face. “There. That’s better,” she said softly. “And not a single cut. Told you I was good.”

Chuckles grinned. “Never had a doubt.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “Alright, time to do something about that hair.”

Swimming by @ninjigma

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The dye Oksann had fashioned out of her flowers wasn’t necessarily vibrant, but it definitely held the color for a long time. Even several weeks later, as Chuckles was preparing to walk into town for the morning work at the common house, he grinned at his reflection in the mirror on the freighter. It was a face he hadn’t seen since before the end of the war, one he recognized more, clean-shaven thanks to the razor Ry had procured for him with a short mohawk that wouldn’t get mashed down under a helmet this time. He ran his fingers through the blue strands.

Wonder what other colors Oks can make. Definitely might have to get a little experimental. I bet she can whip up teal. I think I liked that color the best.

Throwing a jacket on, he checked on the younglings in their bunk one last time. They were both fast asleep still, Arni snoring quietly with one of their lekku flung over their eyes while Nita was curled up in a ball, clutching her trooper doll. He slid the freshly greased bunk door closed before opening the hatch and stepping outside.

The days were getting warmer, but the mornings were still comfortably cool. The grass alongside the path was dewy as Chuck made his way into the settlement. His goggles and face mask were in place once more. While he trusted Ry and Oks, he still wasn’t ready to put his faith in strangers yet.

Maybe someday it’ll be safe to be a clone outside of an Imperial uniform, but not yet.

As he approached the common house, loud voices carried to Chuckles’s ears from inside, and he slowed his stride.

Who is Ry terrorizing already? We’re not even open for another hour.

Pushing through the door, he froze at the sight of stormtrooper armor and Imperial grey. An officer stood facing Ry, datapad in hand. Four stormtroopers flanked him, E-11s gripped tightly as they stood at attention. Ry’s hands were on her hips, her eyes blazing and jaw clenched. Oksann stood behind her quietly, hands clasped in front of her.

“This is a private establishment. You have no right to come in here and interrogate me,” Ry snapped.

“I actually have every right, Miss-“

The sound of the door swinging shut behind Chuckles drew everyone’s attention. He stood there, frozen, his pulse hammering in his ears. The Imperial officer that Ry was arguing with turned to appraise him with an entirely disinterested expression, as if Chuckles were a child that had wandered into an adult conversation and rudely interrupted them. Ry met his eyes behind his goggles, her expression shifting slightly before it hardened again.

“We’re still fucking closed,” she snarled. “Come back in an hour.”

Chuck’s heart stuttered in his chest as he realized what Ry was doing. He glanced at Oksann. Her hands were hanging at her side now, and her left one was clenching and unclenching rapidly. On a second look, Chuckles realized she was signing to him.

You have our hearts. Be safe brother. Run.

Chuckles mumbled some apology at Ry. He could have sworn her eyes were glistening, and she gave him the slightest nod, jutting her chin out defiantly.

The clone turned, walking outside as slowly as he would allow himself.

“Hey, wait a minute, mohawk.”

He froze. The voice was the same as his own, a brother. The last time he’d heard a brother’s voice, it had been seconds before he killed him. Now, he resisted the urge to reach for the blaster at his hip.

It’ll only get Ry and Oksann killed too. Just let them take you.

His heart fell.

Please let Ry and Oks take care of the kids. Or at least get them to a safe place.

He turned back to face them. One of the stormtroopers had begun to stride towards him. Ry’s eyes were frantically flicking back and forth, but Oksann was moving towards him quickly. She stepped in between the two of them, signing something angrily at the stormtrooper. The trooper went to shove Oksann out of the way, and that seemed to snap Ry out of her stupor. She charged forward, grabbing him by his shoulder bell and shoving him backwards.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” The venom in her voice was apparent.

“I don’t know what the kriff she’s saying,” he muttered.

“She’s telling you to stop fucking harrasing our patrons.”

“I need to see his identification.”

“He’s a drunkard that stumbles in here every morning. You’ll be lucky if you get a coherent sentence out of him at this hour.”

Chuck’s knees were shaking under him. The stormtrooper stared down Ry for a moment before his commanding officer sighed in exasperation.

“Stand down CT-1793. If he’s a regular, you may inspect his credentials later.” The clone trooper stared at Ry for a few more seconds, who met his visored gaze unwaveringly, before turning and striding back to his squad. Chuck could see some of the tension leave Ry’s shoulders as Oksann turned to him, resting her hand on his chest. Her eyes shone as she gave him a small smile, pushing him towards the door. Ry turned to face him, her voice cracked with anger, but he knew it was more frustration than anything. “I told you to get out. Now go.”

Chuck nodded. He stumbled back outside on unsteady legs, trying to keep his breathing even.

You’ve got to get back to the kids. You’ve got to go.

He turned the corner and broke into a sprint back towards the ship as soon as he was out of sight, swallowing the lump in his throat and ignoring the sting in his eyes as he ripped his commlink from his belt. As soon as he got far enough away from the settlement, he clicked the comm on.

“Arni, you there kid?”

It felt like it took an eternity for the Twi’lek to answer, and Chuck was about to try again when the youngling’s voice crackled through the link.

“Yeah, Nita and I just finished breakfast. We were about-“

“Kid, listen to me.”

Something in his tone must have given it away. Arni fell silent.

Chuck was panting, more from the tightness in his chest than the running.

“Pack up the ship and prep it for takeoff. We’ve got to go.”

Arni didn’t answer for a moment, and Chuckles could practically picture the kid looking around the ship, realizing their home was about to be uprooted, that there would be no goodbyes. He wondered if Nita had been within earshot.

“Alright,” they replied quietly. They didn’t need to ask why.

“I’m jogging back now.” He paused. “We’ll be alright.” He knew the reassurance sounded hollow.

“Ok. I’ll try to get pre-flight done before you get here.”

“Thanks kid.” His voice cracked, and he huffed in frustration as he tucked his commlink back in his belt.

The entire run back, he kept replaying the last moment with Ry and Oksann in his mind. They protected us. They didn’t have to, but they did. His eyes stung again, and he finally ripped off the goggles and face mask, pausing to bend over, his hands gripping his knees tightly as he fought the sob threatening to rip from his chest.

Another home lost.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he clenched his teeth tightly as he unleashed a muted roar, squatting down to pound his fists into the dirt, once, twice, and then burying his face in his hands.

Gotta keep moving.

He inhaled and exhaled sharply, straightened, wiped his eyes, and continued jogging.

When he turned into the grove of trees that the ship sat in, he could hear arguing, and his chest tightened again. Arni was up in the trees, pulling the lights down while Nita stood on the ramp of the ship, one arm clutching her doll while the other pointed accusingly at Arni.

“Nita, please, we have to get going. Can you make sure all of the stuff in the kitchen is stowed?” Arni’s voice was strained, and he could tell they were trying to reason with the tiny Pantoran.

“I told you, you must have heard Chuckles wrong. We can’t be leaving. We should wait until he gets here. Otherwise you’re just messing up everything for no reason.” Her voice was angry, and his heart broke. At the sound of his footsteps, her head whipped around, and the hopeful expression she wore nearly shattered him. “Chuck, you gotta tell Arni to stop taking down the lights.”

He stopped in front of her, squatting down. “Nita, honey, we have to go.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and he watched the last inkling of hope fade from her eyes. “But we can’t. What about Ry and Oksann?”

He rested his hands on her shoulders. “They’re going to be just fine. In fact, they made sure I got away from the Imperials safe. We can’t let that effort go to waste.”

“But what if the Imperials leave? They might! Then we could stay.”

Chuckles sighed, cupping her cheeks that were steadily dampening with tears. “Honey, we can’t stick around and find out. It’s too risky. I have to keep you and Arni safe. It’s what Ry and Oksann want. It’s what I want. We will make another home somewhere.”

Nita was no longer trying to hold back her tears, whimpering quietly. “But I wanted here to be our home.”

Chuckles pulled her into a hug. “I know honey. Me too.” He leaned back, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “But you know what? My home is wherever you and Arni are. As long as we’re together, we have a home. Alright? Pinky promise we’ll make another good one somewhere.”

He held out his pinky. Nita stared at it for a few seconds before turning and walking wordlessly back into the ship, sniffling loudly. Chuckles stayed frozen for another moment, his pinky still extended before he sighed, pushing himself to his feet. Arni hopped to the ground with a thud behind him, winding the lights around their arm. “Pre-flight should be about complete. I’ve got everything else packed.” Their eyes followed Nita’s small form as she disappeared inside the ship. “Will she be alright?”

Chuck rested a hand on their shoulder. “Yeah. She’s upset. She doesn’t understand yet. But she’ll be alright.” He looked down at Arni, meeting their brown eyes. “You did well.”

Arni nodded, but didn’t say anything. The two of them walked up the ramp to the ship.

Chuckles slid into the pilot seat as Arni went and got Nita strapped into one of the rear jump seats. Chuckles peered over his shoulder at the tiny Pantoran. Nita’s gaze was distant, her eyes still red with tears, and she clutched the trooper doll tightly to her chest. Arni was speaking quietly to her, but she wasn’t responding much. The most she did was nod, which Arni seemed to find acceptable. They gave her hand a squeeze before slipping into the co-pilot seat next to Chuckles.

“Where to?” they asked, pulling up the navicomputer display.

“The nebula. We can think of something there. How are we on supplies?”

“Can probably hold up a week, two if we stretch it.”

Chuck nodded, punching on the engine ignition. The engines whined from a few months of no use before roaring to life. He checked their status readouts, satisfied that they were functioning nominally before taking the steering yoke. It felt almost foreign in his hands after the last few months. He sighed.

“Alright. Let’s get out of here.”

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