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frankcastlescumslut · 8 months

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A House in Nebraska

pairing: frank castle x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: gore, violence, minor character death, amy bendix (lol), language, angst!!, eventual smut

summary: He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.

a/n: hey! I’ve been sitting on this idea for months and finally ready to work on it :) this will definitely be a two-parter(maybe more), but I’m selfishly enjoying this little AU loosely following season 2!!!!

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comments/reblogs/likes are so appreciated, I love to hear your thoughts <3

“So… how did you guys meet?” “Stay still.” The strong stench of rubbing alcohol burned your nostrils as you leaned over, her foot tapping mindlessly beneath her crossed legs. “You didn’t answer my question.” “Amy,” you interrupted, her blue eyes baring right back into yours. “If you want me to paint your nails, sit still.” She huffed at that. You were used to it by now, never taking her attitude personally because being sixteen was hard enough, so you paid no mind. It was almost reminiscent, a painful familiarity with the way she embodied your sister, but you chose to forget the feeling like your life depended on it. In a way, it did.

Her nail disappeared beneath a glossy black polish, the surrounding skin also falling victim to an unsteady hand. She let out a sigh and continued to count the number of stripes on her socks.

“We met in Nebraska.” “Nebraska?” She sounded disgusted, and the small room filled with laughter. “What the hell is in Nebraska?” “Absolutely nothing.”

Ghosts. Distant memories. Everything was in Nebraska.

It’s where he found you, hiding as some housekeeper in a shitty motel. You were both running from things neither of you cared to talk about while sober, so you didn’t, but he kept looking for reasons to come back.

He blamed it on the esteemed breakfast, a vending machine honeybun, but you saw through him like he was an apparition haunting your strained heartstrings.

Come with me, he asked. Where to? You didn’t really care.

You were in too deep by the time you made it to Michigan—you both were, and yet neither one of you would admit it. There was something sacred about the secrecy and inability to label what you both knew was love, or something like that; it was too precious, and you avoided any chance at jinxing it.

“But you two are together, though, right?” Amy was obsessed with knowing everything. You think it’s her way of pretending that everything was fine. Fine.

“No.” “Oh.” She straightened a bit, and you didn’t miss the way her brows furrowed. “That disappoint you?” “A little.” “Good,” you smirked. “You’re too nosey.” “I call it a healthy amount of curious.” Her back hunched again, and she watched the way your eyebrows scrunched over her fingers. “You guys are shit at hiding it, anyway.” You chuckled at that, manually manipulating her hand to inspect your work. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh come on,” she says matter-of-factly. “You guys fuck.” “Amy!” You could feel your eyes bulging from their sockets. “I knew it!” She clapped her hands before jumping from the mattress. “You don’t know anything.” “Oh come on,” she searched your face, expecting to find any confirmation to her assumptions, instead finding your lack of eye contact disappointing. “Not even once?” “No,” you lied. “Happy?” “Not really.”

The mattress failed to hide the sound of her disappointment as she threw her body onto the spare bed. You allowed yourself to find amusement in her attitude long enough to sift through a dirty duffel bag, keeping your mind occupied with something other than Frank’s absence.

Gaining Amy meant losing Frank. Hour by hour, piece by piece, chunk of flesh by chunk of flesh. The waiting never grew easier, but you adjusted, just like you always do, ending up in motels that smelled like damp polyester and cigarettes.

“I’m starving,” she groaned, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’ll get something soon.” Your stomach gurgled in agreement.

Static crackled throughout the room, momentarily stunning you, before being replaced by a weather report.

High of 89 today with an 80 percent chance of rain, folks! Grab an umbrella and stay dry!

You laughed to yourself at that—stay dry—like you ever left those shitty rooms.

It was bittersweet with Amy. You missed the sun. You missed the late night diner runs. You missed waking up to forehead kisses and soft touches. You missed the easiness of it all, pretending to be two normal people that had two normal lives, and now you were confined to a room that reeked of nail polish and gunpowder. A prisoner and caretaker.

“What do you want for dinner?” you asked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Huh?” “Dinner,” you stated. “I’ll go when—“ A knock at the door ended your conversation. “Amy,” you locked eyes with her, “get in the closet.” Your voice dropped to a whisper as you pointed the gun towards the door. “No, it’s fine!“ She practically leapt from the cheap mattress. “Closet. Now.” Your arm aches almost as much as your stomach as Amy reaches for the door handle. She was so far away, it seemed, and your legs felt cemented to the floor. “I ordered food,” she smiled, opening the door to reveal a woman holding a box. “See?”

It felt like you were staring at one of your polaroids; Amy looked pleased, beaming at you with a sense of accomplishment that she got dinner. That she could do things. That she didn’t need your help—Frank’s help. Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for her.

“You can keep the change,” Amy offered the woman a handful of cash before turning to you with that same naivety.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You knew it was coming, and yet your stomach still dropped when her smile faded and her eyes bulged from their sockets. Amy’s lips moved frantically, but you were too focused on the way the woman’s gun left imprints against her temple.

Stupid, stupid girl.

The woman looked satisfied, puffing out her broad chest while Amy tried to talk her way out of it. “Kid,” you commanded her attention, ignoring the way you could hear Frank’s voice in the back of your head. She stared back at you, tears welling in her eyes, and you hoped to God that she would understand what you meant as you meticulously cocked your head towards the closet.

The stranger wasn’t an idiot, and she shuffled backwards, somehow digging the gun further into Amy’s head. “If you try anything funny—“

Point. Shoot. Kill.

Amy flinched as warm blood decorated her cheeks like a crimson blush.

You wish you could embrace her and muster out a lie—that it’s all over, that everything is okay now, that things can go back to normal, but you can’t, so you pull her into the room. “Closet, now.”

She listened, for once, ducking her head and hurrying to the small space Frank had designated as hers. A part of you selfishly wished she had fought back against your order. Maybe then things would feel normal, and you could pretend that the brain matter surrounding the door frame was some maximalist’s creative direction. Maybe then you could imagine that the body below you was just a rolled up carpet that was being discarded because it was too much of an eyesore for the motel regulars.

You pretended, ignoring the corpse’s vacant gaze as you patted its body, shoving any remaining bits of your humanity down as you pocketed a wallet and fully loaded gun.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

It was one of the first lessons you had learned while on your own, and one that Frank never let you forget. He was right, unfortunately, and heavy footsteps reiterated the importance of the mantra as they approached your temporary home.

There weren’t many places for you to hide, but you made it work, you had to. The bathroom was small and smelled like mildew, but you couldn’t care about the dangers of black mold when you had a target on your back. The gun felt lighter in your hand this time, and your posture felt natural as you crouched against the bathroom wall.

Time didn’t exist in moments like this. The moments where the world sounded like warm, rushing blood and high pitched screeching. Moments where you become reduced to your primal state, clenching jaw and eyes blown wide as they study the mirrored motel room. Moments where you held your breath, watching and waiting in anticipation of who would barge into your temporary sanctuary, noting the constant footsteps..

The footsteps never stopped, not even as they stepped over the limp body and pooled blood. You foolishly hoped you would have been met with the familiar darkened gaze, that he would lift you by your shoulders and tell you that you did good, but the man that barged into the room was ruthless. Cold-blooded.

His gun was already drawn, spraying the mattresses and walls with bullets and fury, sending drywall crumbling and flaking onto your head and shoulders.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

You inhaled, not even considering it could be the last time your lungs expanded to its full capacity, before glancing in the mirror a final time.

You looked like a version of yourself you had buried long ago—a version that hadn’t emerged since you had left home. It was reminiscent of something you fought to avoid, but you couldn’t run this time, not as the pang of gunshots echoed throughout the motel room.

He moved quickly, and you wondered if he was trained on the same basis: shoot first, ask later. He wasn’t the first one you had encountered, trigger-happy and determined, and you knew they always ran out of bullets quicker than they should.

Your golden opportunity sounded like a few seconds of silence followed by a huff of air leaving your lips before you reached around the corner, catching the man off guard as you unleashed three rounds towards his rigid frame.

“God damnit!” he shouted as a bullet ripped through the meat of his thigh.

His eyes were black, rolling into the sockets like a blood hungry shark, and you genuinely thought his teeth would crumble under the pressure of his clenched jaw.

The bathroom was no solace; you were cornered, backed into a cage like an animal waiting for its turn to be brought to the slaughterhouse. Surrendering wasn’t an option. It didn’t exist for people like the one hunting you—for people like Frank.

The thought of Frank coming back to your makeshift home, littered with blood and bodies, made your stomach churn. It meant you failed, that you weren’t capable of keeping up with him, and it was embarrassing. You failed him; you failed Amy, and you failed yourself once again, though that mattered little anymore.

Your golden moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of grunting and a continuous stream of popping inching towards your hiding place. The wall exploded and ceramic tile flew towards your face before you realized what was happening, and you instinctively receded towards the small spot between the toilet and cabinet.

“Come on out, honey,” he called. “Can’t hide forever!”

You could tell he was hovering outside the remnants of the doorframe, probably waiting for you to crawl out so he could pretend to be merciful by putting a bullet in your head, but his labored breathing told you everything he wasn’t. Your guess was a severed artery, and although he should be down by now, you learned to never underestimate a man with nothing left to lose and steadied your gun on the edge of the counter.

“Just tell me where the girl is and we can figure this out like adults!” “Like adults?” You called out, scanning the bathroom for anything that could help your situation. “Sure,” he huffed out. “We can play house after this. What do you say?”

The toe of his boot peeked around the corner, and your body moved before your mind could catch up.

The man let out a guttural scream and folded in half, instinctively grabbing his bleeding foot. You wasted no time yanking the cheap plastic shower curtain from its holdings before leaping towards the assailant.

He looked like a beached shark, thrashing beneath the fogging curtain, but felt more like a mechanical bull as you held onto him with your thighs, tightening your grip around the curtain.

It happened quickly. So quickly that you hadn’t registered the throbbing pain in the base of your skull as you crashed into the already crumbling drywall. You weren’t sure how he stood, how he gained enough momentum to fling you off of him, but your mind and body remained disconnected as he towered over you.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” the man coughed, failing to cover his mouth. “Where’s the girl?”

This wasn’t supposed to be the end. This was humiliating, and yet there you were, blinking away stars and choking on dust. You attempted to sit up straight, regaining your dignity, before your knuckles hit the familiar carbon steel.

There was only one shot, and you prayed Amy had made it out and ran as far away from you as she could—this wasn’t a place for young girls, yet you felt small enough in that moment. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

He fell with a great thud, nearly landing on top of you. His mouth and eyes were still open, completely unsuspecting of his demise, and you were hypnotized by the crimson dripping from the bullet-sized hole in his forehead.

It was seamless, and you think Frank would have been proud had he walked in through the blown out door, but he doesn’t. Nobody was coming.

“He talked too much.” Her voice startled you, and you instinctively reached for the gun. “Whoa,” she warned, “it’s okay, it’s just me.” She showed her palms, emerging fully from the small closet.

“Amy,” you whispered, afraid that she was just an apparition.

“You okay?” She knew it was a stupid question the second it left her mouth, but she asked anyway—she at least meant it.

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing yourself to your feet. “We have to leave.”

“Leave? What about Frank?”

You had already limped across the room, adding the new guns and wallets to the duffel bag, and didn’t need to see the confusion on her face to know she was skeptical of your plan. “He’ll find us,” you tried to believe yourself, but you knew he would understand.

You’d had this conversation before; if anything were to happen to him, you and Amy were to find a Madani somewhere in New York. It was a 10 hour drive, but you were confident you could make it in six if you left now.

The room felt smaller with two bodies and crumbled drywall littering the floor. You could ignore the claustrophobic feel, but Amy stood frozen in place, studying the tread marked puddle of blood beneath her feet.

“Hey,” you started, “look at me. Look at me, Amy.”

She was pale, her eyes sunken into their sockets. It was impossible to make sense of how she looked so young, yet so hardened at that moment, but there wasn’t enough time to wonder. “Amy, we have to go, okay?” Her cheeks were soft beneath your palms. You tried to pull her from her trance, begging her to come back to the shitty motel room of death, but she stayed tucked away in the safest corner of her mind.

“You’re bleeding,” she muttered. “What?” “Bleeding. You’re bleeding.”

Her eyes led a trail to the soft curve of your waist. Your shirt stuck to your skin with an uncomfortable warmth, and you pretended it didn’t ache when you placed a few fingers over the gash.

You wanted to laugh at the irony, deluding yourself with a false sense of accomplishment. It was always too good to be true, and you were reminded of the cruel fact that things could always be worse as the sound of heavy footsteps pulled you from the pain. Amy ran towards the familiar hiding spot without being told, and your heart broke into smaller pieces.

It was getting old, the pointing and shooting and killing. It was getting old, and you were tired of calling the shots—you were tired of waiting for Frank to come back.

Fuck him. Fuck him for leaving you. Fuck him for leaving Amy. Fuck him for making you add two more heads to your roster.

Your arm ached as you leveled the gun, and you let out a sharp cry as your skin pulled in separate directions, the cotton of your shirt peeling from the wet wound. It was a matter of seconds before you would claim your next victim, but all you felt was the burning rage towards the man that left you in this position. It was automatic at this point; all you saw was a threat, so you acted, unloading rounds until all that remained was a busted door frame and tear stains against your grimy cheeks.

“Shit,” he whispered, not even acknowledging the body that he stepped over. “No no no, what happened?” He strung a hand behind your neck, forcing you to watch the way his eyes scanned your face. He meant well, you think, but you couldn’t look at him, especially as he thumbed through the tears that escaped your waterline. “Where’s the kid?”

God damn him. “Closet,” you choked out.

He was gone as quickly as he came, and your knees took the brute of the fall with a thud, masking the sound of the closet doors falling as Frank ripped them from the hinges. The stars in your eyes glistened, your peripheral shrinking, and you weren’t even sure if he was real. If he had actually come back, if he had actually left you on the floor, face to face with your bloody work.

“You okay, kid?” He crouched to her level, but she quickly uncurled herself, practically jumping from the small space to push past Frank and joined you on the damp carpet. “Are you okay?” she asked, her brows furrowing as she studied your face. “I’m fine," you whispered, bracing yourself against the mattress to hoist yourself to your feet. Frank hovered, like he usually did, unsure of his place between the two of you. His anger was palpable, and you made yourself as small as possible, limping towards the disheveled duffle bags. He watched you, noting the way you winced with each step. It killed him, knowing that his shit would eventually catch up to you, too, but he gulped it down, turning his attention towards Amy.

“I’m sorry,” Frank started, grabbing Amy’s shoulders before bending to her level. “I’m sorry this happened. I shouldn’t have left.” “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Seriously. It could’ve been worse.” “Yeah, you coulda been killed. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.

Alone. The bile rose from your stomach and burned the lining of your throat at the indirect insult.

“I wasn’t alone,” Amy snapped at Frank before sinking into the mattress. “Look, this is all my fault. I was the one that ordered food, she didn’t know.” It was humiliating having Amy come to your defense like that, even though she was right. Frank’s stare burned, and your feet involuntarily took you to the destroyed bathroom to escape his attention. “What?” He spat. “I mean, really. I probably would have died but she handled them.” She crossed her arms against her chest. “It was actually kinda cool.” “There’s nothin’ cool about this,” Frank hissed. “C’est la vie, I guess.” “C’mon,” he ordered. “Pack up.” “Everything’s already ready.” She motioned towards the perfectly lined duffle bags that you had assembled.

He didn’t have much to say. He was almost relieved at the fact that you were ready to leave him. You could make it on your own, he knew that much. You were strong enough, but a part of him wished you didn’t have to be—that you didn’t have to deal with his shit.

Amy watched as he shifted his weight outside the bathroom door, his fingers flexing and clenching in anticipation.

His heart broke as he caught a glimpse of your reflection in the busted mirror, your head hanging low as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.

He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.

“Time to go,” he finally knocked against the remaining wall. You were quick to listen, pretending that you hadn’t been crying, and you pushed past him. The carpet squelched beneath your stride, and you ignored it long enough to pull Amy into your chest, focusing on the sweet smell of her shampoo. She stayed there for what seemed like forever until she became cognizant of her flickering facade. “You okay?” you whispered, nodding your head as if you could somehow convince her she was. She followed suit, swallowing down any trace of emotion that threatened to spill over, but her eyes betrayed her. Frank had seen enough.

It was too much—too much of a reminder that he had failed again, that his perpetual failings would always result in the loss of a life. Your commitment to Amy’s safety was evident; it was a continuation of what you couldn’t give your sister, and he was ashamed that he brought you back to the place where he met you. “Let’s go,” he cleared his throat. You listened, as you always do, breaking your moment of respite with Amy to shove two heavy duffle bugs over your shoulder, not caring to look behind you as you head towards a bulky van. Amy watched you disappear, shuffling her feet in frustration. “You really should take it easy on her.” Frank said nothing, instead sifting through the empty pockets of corpses. “Hey,” she kicked the limp hand, forcing Frank to stop his search. “I mean it. Lighten up.” “You done?” He stood, completely towering over Amy. His jaw clenched against his will, yet she held his gaze. “Be nice.”

“Time to go.” He didn’t wait for her, so she watched her footing as she tiptoed over the broken bodies.

She lingered in the doorframe, committing the bloodbath to memory. It was fucked that she had to—that the motel room reeked of blood and guts instead nail polish remover and pizza. But that’s how these things went, and you watched from the safety of the van as she slammed the door shut on that dirty fucking room.

You pretended that her clumpy mascara was still intact as she climbed in the van's backseat. She pretended you didn’t jump at the sound of Frank slamming his door closed as he slid into his seat. He pretended that this wasn’t his karmic debt catching up to him.

A caravan of fucking liars.

“Where are we going?” Amy broke the uncomfortable silence, and you held your breath. “New York,” he said with a sigh.

New York, a Madani, and a caravan of liars.

There was a poetic moment of silence and anticipation, and then the engine roared to life.

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#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle angst #frank castle series #frank castle hurt/comfort #the punisher #the punisher x female reader #the punisher series #the punisher angst #amy bendix

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wild-karrde · 4 months

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One Step at a Time - Part 15

Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: I have been SO EXCITED for this chapter, and also INCREDIBLY NERVOUS, but HERE IT IS! As always, thank you to the stupendous @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta reading this for me!

Chapter Rating: M

Warnings: language, mention of suicide, mention of character death, grief

Word Count: 8.4k words

Chuckles didn’t go back to the Starlight.

He didn’t have any idea where his feet were carrying him until he slid onto a stool in the tiny excuse of a cantina the settlement had. As far as he knew, the place had at least three different names, and he’d never been certain which one was the official one. It always seemed to reek of death sticks and sweat, and it attracted mostly miners, leaving smears of dust from their boots across the floor. It wasn’t much, but the camaraderie and feel of the place reminded him of 79s, although the clone bar had definitely been cleaner, even on its worst days.

He wasn’t sure why he’d come here. Throughout his training and the war, he’d had more than enough medical droids warn him against drinking with a concussion, and he’d been stupid enough to ignore that advice only once. The worst hangover of his life combined with the exceptionally loud ass-chewing Crater had given him were enough to ensure he never would make that mistake again. His captain hadn’t normally been one to raise his voice, but he suspected the volume of the reprimand had been part of the punishment.

Maybe he wanted to be around people, to blend into a crowd.

Unfortunately, the place was mostly empty.

Should have guessed that. Could have if my head wasn’t throbbing.

Only two other patrons were there, tucked into corner booths. Normally, you couldn’t hear the music coming from the rundown player in the corner, but tonight, the notes easily carried across the cantina, cutting through the silence even at their low volume.

Chuck chose a seat at the far end of the bar, away from the other patrons. He hadn’t gotten a good enough look to determine who they were, but he didn’t want to sit close enough to encourage conversation. Just because he wanted to be around people didn’t mean he actually wanted to interact with them.

He just didn’t want to feel alone.

Even with the concussion, he was thinking clearly enough to know he wasn’t ready to go back to the Starlight, to the kids he didn’t have answers for, to the sheets that still smelled like the woman that had just told him killing those kids and the use of inhibitor chips were justified.

Did she actually say that though?

Chuckles folded his hands and stabbed his thumbs into the crease between his brows, his eyes squeezed shut.

Stop trying to give her an out.

He’d always been one to try and justify, to rationalize someone’s bad intentions away in favor of some less malicious reasoning. Crater had teased him about his optimism, but if he was honest, the majority of that optimism had died with Crater and most of his squad.

But this was Endi. She loved kids, or she at least seemed to tolerate them better than most. She loved to teach. She baked the best desserts he’d ever had. Sunlight sparkled in her eyes and her laugh sounded like music. She was gentle and kind and soft and sweet, and the person he believed her to be simply did not match the woman he’d sat next to tonight. The two women were incompatible in every way, and yet they were the same, and no amount of spin or mental contortions would change the fact that she was a danger to Arni and Nita, a danger to him.

How did I not see it?

His mind was still churning when he felt someone sit down next to him heavily. He ignored them for a moment before he felt a nudge in his shoulder.

“I expected a better welcome,” Anj croaked. “You’d think I hadn’t almost died today.”

He huffed mirthlessly as he tried not to stare. Anj’s head was wrapped in a wad of bandages that hid one eye. The other eye still glittered brightly but sported a massive bruise around the socket, and the cut on her cheek had been bandaged. The arm she had injured was in a sling, and he could see that two of her fingers were splinted. Every movement she made felt slow and carefully calculated, and he’d seen enough injured brothers to be able to see what body parts she was favoring or trying to keep away from scrutiny. In his estimate, she had at least a few injured ribs as well, an ankle that was giving her trouble, and she had all of the same muscle soreness he did.

If she noticed him tallying her injuries, she didn’t comment. Instead, with her good hand, she slid him an unlabeled green bottle across the worn wooden bartop.

“It was Lu’s. He kept the strongest stuff in town.” She sighed, her voice breaking slightly. “‘S not strong enough for this, though.”

Chuckles rolled the bottle between his hands, examining the amber liquid inside. He wasn’t certain she wanted him to ask how she got it. So he didn’t.

“I can’t drink this right now.” He tapped his temple. “Concussed.”

She scoffed, taking the bottle back. “More for me then, I suppose.”

A glass of water brushed Chuckles’s knuckles, and he glanced up to see the barkeep standing on the other side of the counter, watching him carefully. He’d never been certain what species they were and figured it would be rude to guess, but they were at least visibly humanoid, a handful of centimeters taller than Chuck with dark skin and even darker eyes. Their shock of pink hair was woven into tight braids that hung down their back to their waist, and silver piercings sparkled from their nose and ears. They went by Mona and normally, they met their patrons with a smile and joke, but tonight, he could see sadness and sympathy in their eyes.

Word’s gotten around about what happened.

“Thanks Mona,” he rasped.

“Let me know if you need more. Anything for you, Anj?”

The Nautolan raised the bottle she was drinking from wordlessly, and Mona took it, sniffing before wrinkling their nose.

“I’d normally tell you to take outside shit back outside, but that’s Lu’s isn’t it?”

Anj nodded, her eyes falling to the wooden bartop.

“His stuff always could take the lining off your stomach,” Mona said softly, their deep voice suddenly more gravelly. “I’m sorry.”

Anj just nodded again, and Chuckles could see her swallow hard, her teeth digging into her lower lip as her thumb rubbed over the bottle. Mona met Chuck’s eyes one more time before slipping out of view.

“How’s Hells?” Chuckles asked, hoping the news would be good enough to bring Anj up a little.

“She’ll live. Lost a lot of blood, but we… we got her there in time. A few more minutes, and we’d be having a very different conversation.”

Chuckles fought off a shudder at the possibility that they’d eluded.

She’s alive. She’s ok.

“She may never walk unaided again though.” The statement was forced out through gritted teeth, and Anj’s voice broke on the end of the last word.

“But she’ll walk,” Chuckles said softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, she will.” Anj rasped with a soft, pained laugh. “Once she woke up, she was already chattering about what sort of cane she’d want, and how I shouldn’t worry because it will make her that much more interesting.” She took a swig from the bottle, hardly flinching at the harshness of the liquor inside. “Her first thought was to comfort me, as if I was the one that almost lost her leg today. As if I was the one that almost bled out in her arms.” She sniffed. “Like I always say, she’s a kindness I never accounted for in my life.”

“Petal?” Chuckles prompted after a moment.

Anj sighed, dropping her voice low as if someone might hear. “The first time she… she touched my face, it was so gentle. I flinched because of my previous partner, but Helly was slow and patient with me. She never pushed me, but it made me want to let her have more of me.” She paused. “There was a tree on one of the small islands near where I grew up on Glee Anselm. I can’t even remember if the island had a name now, but I remember the tree. It would bloom every spring with these pale pink blossoms, and towards summer, it would drop the petals when the wind would pick up. My sister and I loved to run and dance in them when it happened, and that sensation of the petals grazing my cheek, that’s what Helly made me think of the first time she touched my face. So, she’s Petal to me.”

“Execute Order 66.”

The memory of the tree in the Jedi temple gardens slammed into Chuckles, and tears leapt into his eyes. He swallowed hard, burying that moment of peace and the violence that had followed.

“That’s… that’s really beautiful, Anj,” he croaked out.

“So is she,” the Nautolan replied, seemingly not noticing his turmoil or chalking it up to the day they’d both had.

They sat in silence for a while. Chuckles had a million questions he wanted to ask Anj, but he wasn’t sure if now was the time. She was clearly grieving, and the day’s events had taken a toll on them both.

But I need to know. I need to know so I can protect the kids.

“Why’d he do it?”

The question was out of his mouth before he could overthink it. The Nautolan didn’t meet his gaze, locking her dark eye on the shelves at the back of the bar as if the half-empty bottles were suddenly the most interesting thing in the universe.

“What makes you think I know?” Her tone was slow, deliberate, just like his had been when he’d been trying to disentangle himself from Endi an hour before.

“Hells said something in the mine. That she didn’t think he’d do something. That you both didn’t think it.”

Anj shrugged, taking a drink before answering.

“Helly was delirious with pain. She didn’t know what she was saying. Surprised she could even get a coherent sentence strung together.”

“Anjii.” Annoyance flared within Chuckles. He leaned closer, dropping his voice low. “I need you to tell me what you know. I need to keep my kids safe, and I can’t do that if I don’t have all the information. I need to know what you know, otherwise you’re putting Arni and Nita in danger.”

Anj said nothing for a moment, but a muscle in her jaw ticked in anger. Her eye darted around the bar one last time, ensuring no one was listening to them before she lowered her voice.

“I’ve done a hell of a lot to keep your kids safe, Chuckles. More than you’ll ever know.” Her unbandaged eye finally met his, piercing even in the dim lighting. “And I did it without you having to tell me anything you didn’t want to. Even though you didn’t trust me fully.”

Chuckles shrank back in his seat, his heart thundering in his chest. Anj’s expression softened as she took his reaction in. His mind raced, rapid thoughts bouncing off the pounding throb behind his eyes.

She knows. We have to get out of here.

He stood. Anj’s good hand clamped around his forearm.

“Sit,” she hissed. “If you run now, you’ll only make this worse. There’ll be questions. Now, sit.”

Chuckles stood still, his mind scrambling to pull a stream of logical thoughts together, but panic overwhelmed him.

What does she know? Who else knows? How long do we have?

“Sit. Down.”

He sat.

Anj watched him for a moment before casting another cautious glance around. She leaned in closer, her voice slightly above a whisper.

“The day we helped move the kids down to the hold, Arni ran back up to get one more thing out of the bunk. Now, I was holding the last armful of knick-knacks, so that struck me as odd, but kids sometimes have things stashed, so I thought nothing of it. They came back a few minutes later with something shoved up under their shirt. I didn’t press, but they stumbled on the last step, and that metallic something clattered out onto the floor. I turned, and they were hurriedly shoving it back out of view.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I’ve seen many weapons in my time, Chuck. Several of the variety they were carrying, although never up close.”

Their lightsaber. She saw their lightsaber.

Chuckles felt like the bottom of his stomach was going to drop out. His mind frantically raced, trying and failing to come up with a believable explanation as to why an eleven-year-old would have a Jedi weapon.

“Anj-”

She raised her hand to cut him off. “I turned away, and as far as they know and as far as I’m concerned, I never saw it. Got it?”

He nodded, unable to formulate words.

Her eye was flicking over every centimeter of his face, taking in his reaction, watching him process the new information. Finally, she spoke again.

“I need you to understand that you can trust me. That there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you and your kids safe. Hells knows too. I couldn’t keep it from her. She knows me too well. But there are people that you’re close to that wouldn’t do the same.”

“I know about Endi,” he said quietly.

Anj’s mouth drew into a thin line.

“Ah,” was all she said.

“I mean, I didn’t know, not until tonight,” he stumbled. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t that. I just… that’s why I’m here. And not at home. I don’t understand what happened, and I don’t have answers.” He scrubbed his hands over his face before tugging gently on his mohawk. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

A look of guilt clouded Anj’s features. She rolled her shoulders, rolling the bottle between her hands. “Thought you’d see it on your own eventually. And I wasn’t sure how to intervene without telling you what I knew. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to me knowing something you didn’t want me to.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, Anj,” he rasped, his throat suddenly tightening on him. “I wanted to. The kids love you and Hells. I just… the last place we were at, I told people. And then those people had to lie for us, and that put them in danger. And I… I didn’t want to do that to you.”

“You wanted to tell her.”

“I did,” he gritted out. “Almost did tonight. Thank the Maker she told me where she stood first.”

Anj was quiet for a moment. “There wasn’t much about the war that made it out here. Lots of folks have to just believe what they see on the feeds. That’s all we get out here.”

“You know better.”

“I do. But I wasn’t always on Lothal.”

Chuckles paused. “You said you saw… a weapon like Arni’s before.”

Anj nodded, taking another deep pull from the bottle, drawing her lips back from her teeth in a grimace as the liquor burned her insides. “I did. Was in Chaleydonia on Christophsis when the war broke out. The Separatists moved in quick, and then there was a siege and a battle, and I decided I wanted no part of it, so I headed for Lothal. Seemed like it wouldn’t see much action, and my bet paid off. Well, until now, I suppose.”

“And that was enough? To make you see things differently about the Jedi?”

Anj shrugged again. “I don’t claim to understand the ins and outs of everything that happened politically at that time. But I do know what the Jedi meant to people. Growing up, we were taught that they were peacekeepers. The stuff of legends, really. And regardless of how much of that was true or not, I don’t see how killing off all of them did anyone a lick of good.” She shivered slightly, and her grip tightened around the bottle, now only about half full. Her voice dropped even lower.

“I’m no fan of the Empire. Wasn’t that big on the Republic either, but they at least felt like they tried at times. The Empire just seems keen to get as much power as they can and quash any naysayers. And all that about the Jedi? I don’t know everything, but I cannot imagine a galaxy that would be better off without Arni and Nita existing.”

Chuckles’s vision blurred, and his voice cracked. He sniffed hard. “Me either.”

He felt Anj’s eye on him and turned to meet her gaze. More questions were looming in her expression, and he could guess what they were.

You can trust her. You know you can.

He took a deep breath.

“My chip didn’t work,” he said softly. “I was still in service at the end of the war. I’d gone to the temple to see someone, and that’s when all hell broke loose. I-I saw them, my brothers, killing Jedi, killing children.” His hands were shaking, and he folded them together, clasping tightly to keep the tremors in check. “I found the kids and got them out. At first I thought… I thought it had to be Seppies. That they’d gotten ahold of clone armor and snuck in. There was no universe in which I could fathom them doing that.”

“So the chips were real?”

“I think so. Never got any official confirmation, but when the order was given, there was a sharp pain in my head, like something trying to activate, crazy as that may sound.” His fingers drifted up to graze the place on his scalp where he’d felt that stabbing pressure that day. “I just… they’d never have done that, Anj. Not without something making them.”

“Why didn’t yours work?”

He huffed a laugh. “The only thing I can figure is too many concussions. I’ve come down on that place on my head at least twice. Best guess is I’ve damaged it. So I kept my wits about me by sheer dumb luck.”

Anj chuckled quietly. “So your concussions saved your life. And theirs.” She extended the lip of the bottle towards the rim of his water glass.

“It’s bad luck to toast with water,” he mumbled.

“You think we haven’t used up all the bad luck today?”

Chuckles huffed at that, clinking his glass of water against her bottle. “Luck didn’t have much to do with it.”

“Oh, I think we’re luckier than you know,” Anj said softly.

The Nautolan sighed deeply, clearly still wrestling with how much to tell him. Finally, she gingerly turned, fishing a piece of folded flimsi out of her back pocket and placing it on the bar top. She drummed her fingers on it, still thinking until finally, she let out a long, slow exhale.

“Judging by the fact that you’re still sitting here and not halfway to hyperspace, I’m going to assume you’ve decided to trust me with your secret. At least, I’m hoping you’re not going to kill me after we leave here.” Her lip was curled into a nervous smirk.

“Thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Plus, I think I still like your odds, even with one arm in a sling,” he joked with a pained wink.

Anj relaxed slightly. “Right. Well, then it’s only fair I put my trust in you.” She tapped the paper. “This was in the breast pocket of the shirt you had on. Hells was still clutching it when they brought her into the med tent.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t have anything in that pocket.”

“It’s from Lu.”

Chuckles’s blood pounded in his ears as his brain raced back to the moments just before the explosion. He remembered Lu’s expression, the way he’d awkwardly patted Chuck’s chest, just above the pocket.

“Karking hells,” he swore quietly.

“I’m going to tell you what I know about Lu,” Anj continued, as if she hadn’t heard him. “And then you and I are gonna read this together. I tried. I couldn’t do it. It’s addressed to you. And I just can’t do it.”

Chuckles nodded slowly. “Alright.”

Anj studied the bottle between her hands, and he could see she was steeling herself for what she was about to share. He propped his feet on the bar stool and faced forward, occasionally glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He knew she’d speak when she was ready, and he didn’t want to stare at her or the folded note sitting next to her elbow. Finally, she spoke, her voice gravelly and grief-stricken.

“Lu was like you and I,” she rasped tightly. “Has a past he’s running from. His homeworld was one of the first to have the Empire clamp a manacle on it. Entire cities occupied with patrols in the streets, picking people up for silly things like being out past curfew. Lu and a few others didn’t take kindly to that and raised a bit of hell about it. Most of his friends got locked up, but Lu had his twin sister Cilli and her family depending on him, so he managed to get out and ran here. He’s been lying low, sending money home to Cilli and her kids. They were close. Real close. Their parents died young, so they’ve been looking out for one another ever since. Cilli’s second pregnancy was so hard, and her man cut and ran when things got tough, so Lu stepped up.” Anj paused to take another swig from the bottle, wincing slightly. “Someone got a message to Lu yesterday. The Empire found out Cilli was getting credits from him. Not sure how. He was so careful, running the credits through all sorts of different places to make sure it didn’t trace back to him. But someone figured it out, and the Imperials classified that as conspiring with a traitor to the Empire. Apparently they take their treason quite seriously, and they raided the house. With detonators.”

She paused to let out a shuddering breath.

“The kids were inside, and they didn’t care. Kids. Gone in an instant. They were closest to the door. As you can imagine, Cilli didn’t take it lying down, not after seeing her babies die. From what it sounds like, she went out with a blaster in her hand and a curse on her lips.”

Anj’s head was down, her tendrils hiding her face. Chuckles could still hear her quivering exhales. The blood was drained from her knuckles, and it was a wonder the bottle in her hand hadn’t shattered in her grip.

“I commed Lu to give him a heads up about the inspectors yesterday, and when he didn’t answer, I went over to check on him. He’s normally pretty responsive, so it struck me as odd. When I got there, I could tell right away something was wrong. He was quiet, more quiet than usual, but there was a tremor in his hands and an anger I could just feel rolling off of him. I finally pressed enough for him to tell me, and when he started talking, it was like he couldn’t stop the words. I told him to take the week off, to not do anything rash. But the minute I saw him today, I knew he hadn’t listened.”

Chuckles chewed the inside of his cheek as he turned the information over in his head. He certainly understood that anger that Lu had felt. There had absolutely been days where he’d felt the losses so deeply that he’d considered burning everything down.

The difference is you didn’t. Because your remaining brothers would have faced the consequences.

“Anger and grief are a deadly combination,” he murmured bitterly. “Keeps you from thinking clearly. And that’s when you put the other people you care about in danger.”

Anj’s head snapped up, and her eye pierced into him fiercely.

“Watch your tongue.”

He glared back at her, taking a sip of his water. “He brought the damn shaft down on us, Anj. He almost killed us too. I get his anger, trust me, I do. But I would never have done something that could have gotten others I cared about hurt.”

“And Lu didn’t either,” she snarled under her breath.

“How do you figure?”

She sighed, picking at the edge of one of her bandages.

“I didn’t know the reason for the inspection until this morning. The new shaft was pushed for by the Empire in order to meet their quotas, so they provided small mining corporations with some of the construction materials as incentives to expand. Every screw and strut and gear in that shaft comes from Imperial factories, and apparently, that means they’re built by the lowest bidder.” She scoffed angrily. “Jerrno got notice from some of his partners that the inspectors were coming to look at the construction of the shaft. Apparently, they’ve been making the rounds, claiming shafts aren’t being constructed properly, but they’re just covering their own asses. The beams we were supplied with can’t hold what they’re spec’ed to. Another mine saw a collapse last month, and the inspectors came out and blamed the corp and their construction processes. But when they tested out a few of the extra beams they had leftover, they found the struts didn’t even come close to being as durable as they were supposed to be.”

Chuckles nodded slowly as she met his gaze once more, her voice quieter.

“Lu was the best damn demolitions expert I’ve ever seen. He could blow a mite off a massiff without waking it up. He had no way of knowing about the fucking beams. Teef was filling me in right when Lu walked in.” Her voice broke. “You think what you want, but I believe Lu just wanted to take out the shaft and inspectors, not bring the entire cliff down on us. That collapse was far too uncontrolled for one of his explosions.”

Her fist tightened around the neck of the bottle, and the muscle in her jaw twitched angrily again.

“They weren’t even going to tell us about the beams. The inspectors just strolled in this morning without so much as a ‘hello’ or ‘fuck you’. They were just gonna tell us it was our fault. Probably still will.”

She drained the bottle, tossing it into a bin at the back of the bar before she turned to face Chuckles again.

“Lu didn’t almost kill us, but the Empire sure did.”

Chuckles let out a long, shuddering breath. All of the anger and resentment he felt leaked out of him, and grief swiftly settled into its place. Of course Lu hadn’t meant to hurt them, not the Lu that had held Nita’s hand or listened to Arni babble on for hours, not the Lu that had quietly showed up with furniture for the kids’ room and watched with a quiet smile as they squealed over it. There was almost a relief for Chuckles, to let the pieces fall into place and find that the Nikto he’d known was the same person he’d always thought he was, the confirmation that Lu was the Lu he’d seemed to be.

It still felt as though he’d lost two people today, Lu and the Endi he thought he’d known, and he grieved them both. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he wiped at them hurriedly, sniffling hard.

“I’m so sorry, Anj.”

“You had no way of knowing,” she croaked. “I just… I know he’s going to get branded as a terrorist, an unhinged and dangerous and cruel man.”

It’s already happening, Chuckles thought, Endi’s words echoing in his mind.

“But we know better,” Anj continued. “We knew him.”

“We did,” Chuckles agreed. Quietly, he reached over for the note. Anj didn’t move. Taking a deep breath, he unfolded the paper.

Chuck,

I can’t give this to Anj or Hells. They’ll know immediately and stop me. So I’m sorry, but it has to be you. I know you may not get my reasoning, and that’s fine, but I know you’ll understand wanting to keep loved ones safe, and the anger that comes with failing at that. Tell Anj I’m sorry, but I can’t let it stand. I’m sure she’ll tell you why, about my sister. All that I had in this galaxy was spilled on Cilli’s front stoop. I can’t stand for it, but I can damn sure fall making my point.

I don’t know how Arni and Nita came to be yours, but keep them safe at all costs. I’ve taken your name off the roster for today and for the rest of the week. Left a note for Jerrno that I didn’t want your name involved, especially being a clone. I’m confident that’ll be enough, and Anj’ll see that it is.

You and your kids are special, a symbol of hope in a galaxy turned on its head. I hope they have the future I wanted for my kin. See that they do. And see that Arni keeps that laser sword better hidden.

It’s better this way. I know too many names and too many places, and I can’t have any more blood on my soul. Tell Anj and Hells I’m sorry. I hope they’ll forgive me and know that they were the family I chose. You all were.

“That shithead did see,” Anj breathed over Chuckles’s shoulder. “He was right behind me, that day on the ship, but I stepped in front of Arni, trying to hide it better.” She choked out a laugh. “Never reacted, and had a perfect sabacc face about it when I probed later. Karking asshole.”

“The roster?” Chuckles managed to grit out around the emotions that were overwhelming him.

“I’ll see that it’s handled,” Anj said quietly. “And I’ll testify to whoever that will listen that Lu acted alone, that he’d been nursing anti-Imperial sentiment for a long time, but we never thought it’d get this far.”

“Anj, I can’t ask that-”

“You’re not askin’. I’m telling you how it’s going to be. Maker alive, Lu wasn’t stupid, but this was impulsive and short-sighted and driven by grief. He planned all these contingencies, but he didn’t really think this through. And now, here we are, picking up the pieces and trying to stay safe while he fucks off into whatever afterlife he believed in.” Chuckles could see her moving through her grief, allowing some anger at her friend to finally show.

“It won’t even take them long to fix that shaft,” she snorted. “A few months at most, even if we replace all the struts, and we’ll be right back down there. I know I told him to not do anything rash, but if he’d… I’d have…” She took a deep, steadying breath. “I’d have at least helped him make sure it counted for something.”

It was then that Chuckles saw it. Anj sat back, her unbandaged eye glistening with unshed tears, and yes, there was grief there, but more than that, there was betrayal. She’d thought Lu would reach out to her, would allow her to help him when he needed her most, and instead, he’d gone alone.

“He kept you safe by keeping you out of it,” Chuckles rasped, reaching over and gripping her hand. She tried to yank it away, but he held on tightly. “And for that, I’m grateful, Anj. Because I’d have done the same.”

“I doubt that,” she snorted, wiping at her eye with her good hand. “Even as reckless as you are.”

Chuckles was quiet for a beat before he folded his hands in front of him. “When I was a pilot, I lost a lot of brothers. Pretty much my entire squad once. I got out by the skin of my teeth. A pilot’s death isn’t like a normal soldier. We don’t bleed out slowly on some battlefield. It’s rare we even get a shot at a medic. If a ship’s done, it’s done, and in the middle of a fight, it’s not like you can take it to a hangar for maintenance.”

He felt Anj watching him, and he pressed on slowly.

“Sometimes, when your ship’s damaged and there’s no hope of you making it home, you do something reckless. You do what you can to steer your fighter and take out as many of the bad guys as you can. It’s not an official thing we’re trained to do, but many of my brothers did. Of course they knew it wasn’t always guaranteed to do much. Sometimes, you’re just a spec of flame on the side of a much bigger battle station. But the thing is, you hope that at a minimum, someone will see it happen, will see you doing everything you can with the moments that you have left, and you hope that galvanizes them.” He ran his thumb along the edge of his water glass. “I think Lu knew as well as you do that it wouldn’t take them long to rebuild, but I think what he hoped is that we’ll be galvanized by what he did. We’ll see what the Empire did to him and his family, and we’ll see his final act of defiance, and we’ll carry that spirit with us and spread it.” He tugged lightly at his mohawk. “I’ve been hiding for the last year, worried that if I stepped into the fight again, I’d put my kids and those around us at risk. But now… I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either,” Anj said quietly. “But what I do know is I’m not sure I can let it all stand. Same as Lu. But I haven’t an inkling of where to start.”

Chuckles took another sip of his water. “Right now, I think the best thing we can do is keep Lu’s memory and message alive,” Chuckles whispered. “Let the anger and the grief pass so that you think clearly. And then you wait.”

“Wait?”

He nodded. “The opportunities will come. We start small. Maybe someone like Lu or me needs a job, and we help them get one and cover their tracks. Maybe some expensive equipment goes missing.”

Anj chewed her lip, and he could see her thinking. “Maybe someone with a lot of pull finds out about the construction materials in the mines.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. Grief was still the main emotion in his system, but Chuckles could feel something sparking in his chest, like a nearly-dead ember being blown upon. He hadn’t felt that spark in over a year, but it felt good, right even.

Maybe I’m finally on the right path.

He could feel a similar energy radiating off of Anj. The slump in her shoulders had disappeared, and a hint of her usual smirk was tugging at the corner of her mouth. “For Lu,” she said quietly, holding out her pinky finger on her uninjured hand towards Chuckles.

He grinned.

“For Lu,” he promised, locking his pinky with hers.

“But tonight, we rest.”

“Some of us do,” he corrected her. “I’m not supposed to sleep much.”

“I don’t know that either of us will do much of that,” Anj said quietly, some of the sadness seeping back in. “But we can still try.”

“We can.” Chuckles pushed his stool back from the bar, standing carefully. He folded the flimsi back up and slid it back to Anj. “You keep this.”

She nodded wordlessly, taking the note between her calloused fingers and rubbing it gently. “Don’t come ‘round the mine until I tell you it’s safe, got it?” she whispered.

“Yes ma’am.” He gently clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Take care of yourself. And give Hells my love. Let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

“When she’s better, can you bring the kids around?” Anj asked quietly. Chuckles could hear the emotion she was holding back. “They always make her light up.”

“You got it,” he said quietly.

She nodded.

“‘Night Mona!” Chuckles called over his shoulder. He thought he heard them call a soft response, but he was already out the door.

He wasn’t sure if it was the water or the conversation or his headache finally fading a bit, but a determination had settled into his chest, one that he hadn’t realized had been lying dormant in the year since the war. He wanted to do something, even if he wasn’t sure what that was yet.

But we’ve got to be safe. I can’t put the kids in danger.

But what am I teaching them if we just keep running and hiding?

How to survive.

But what if they want more than that?

His mind was still wrestling with itself, even as he made his way home, his feet carrying him back to the Starlight as if on autopilot. The interior of the ship was dark and quiet, and he could still smell the dinner he’d shared with Arni and Nita hours ago. The familiarity of it all brought a sense of relief, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. He kicked off his boots with a sigh, shutting the hatch behind him.

Home. But maybe not settled.

His eyes burned, and he ground the heel of his hand into them, huffing a quiet laugh.

One step at a time.

A soft shuffling sound broke him out of his haze, an incongruence from his expectations that jarred him just enough to draw his attention. His eyes snapped to the co-pilot seat.

Arni was sitting in it, wrapped in the heavy blanket from his bunk. They clearly hadn’t anticipated him coming home, but their sharp brown eyes quickly scanned his face, absorbing everything as usual. He was too tired and overwhelmed to try and hide his feelings anymore tonight.

“Why are you up, kid?” he asked.

They shrugged. “Woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Nita?”

“Out. She was pretty tired.”

Chuckles nodded, trudging over to the pilot seat and plopping into it. He let his gaze drift out the front viewport to the stars, taking in the mountains and the soft glow of the town, suddenly less welcoming than it had seemed when he’d woken up this morning.

Maker alive, morning feels like a lifetime ago. When Lu was still here.

It wasn’t all threatening. There was good in the little town still, but there were also threats he’d let slide past his defenses, and now more than ever, he needed to be cautious.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Arni said softly, interrupting his thoughts.

He sighed heavily. “Me too, kid. I’m sorry I scared you like that.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” they replied, hugging the blanket closer around them.

“Is that why you can’t sleep?”

They nodded. “When… when we first heard about the explosion, I knew there was a chance you were gone. So I started trying to think of what we’d do, Nita and me.”

Chuckles’s heart shattered.

“I figured I could probably keep doing repairs, and maybe Grinz would let me help out at the store for some credits,” they continued. “I just needed to find a way to keep us fed until I was old enough to go into the mines. I think we could have made it work.” They turned to look at him, their eyes shining with tears. They gave him a small smile. “I’m glad we don’t have to though.”

Chuckles slid out of his chair, kneeling in front of Arni and pulling them into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, Arni. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His chest swelled with awe at the young Twi’lek and their selflessness, but the fact that they thought they were alone again, that they’d have to take care of Nita on their own tore at him. He bit back a shuddering sob, rocking Arni back and forth. He felt a damp spot form on his shirt where their face was pressed against his chest, and their fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m right here, kid. I’m alright.”

“I know. I was just scared.”

“That’s allowed.”

After a few minutes, they released him, wiping at their nose and eyes. Chuckles shifted back in the pilot’s seat, sniffling back his own emotions.

“Why didn’t you stay at Endi’s?” Arni asked quietly after a few moments.

Chuckles turned his head to look at them. They were watching him intently, gathering data from his reaction to the question. And that’s when it dawned on him.

The wariness. The hesitation. It all makes sense.

He sighed deeply.

“You knew, didn’t you? About her and how she felt about… about it all?”

Arni’s eyes dropped to their lap. They nodded.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Another shrug. “You seemed happy. And you deserve to be happy.” They met his gaze. “I thought you knew.”

Chuckles stared at them for a moment before scrubbing his hands over his face, tugging lightly at his mohawk.

“Arni, there is no universe where I’d want to be with someone like that. That thinks like that.” He sighed again. “Whoever I’m with, I want it to be someone that I could eventually trust with our secrets. Endi and people that see the galaxy the same way will never fit that category, understand?” His voice cracked, and he did his best to keep the anger and grief he felt at bay.

They thought I’d put someone like that above them.

Arni nodded again, meeting his eyes. “Maybe you can convince her.”

Chuckles huffed at the suggestion. “Nah. I don’t want to be with someone that I have to convince that killing children was a bad idea,” he joked dryly. “Or that putting chips in me and my brothers’ heads was wrong.” He shook his head, releasing a mirthless laugh. “I just can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I’m such a kriffing idiot.”

“You’re not,” Arni said quietly. “You wanted to see the good in her. And I can’t fault you for that.” They pulled their skinny legs up to their chest, wrapping their arms around their knees. “Being alone is hard. I don’t want you to feel alone, Chuckles.”

“I’ve got you and Nita. I’ll never be alone.”

“That’s different and you know it,” they countered. “I saw how you looked at Teacher Endi. I’ve never seen you look at anyone else like that.”

Chuckles blew out a long breath through his mouth.

Dark curls. Sharp eyes. A twist of a smirk.

“There was someone else that I looked at like that. A long time ago,” he said quietly.

“What were they like?”

He glanced over at Arni. They were watching him intently with wide eyes.

“Only if you want to talk about them. I’d like to hear,” they added.

Chuckles nodded, letting his mind drift back to the garages of Coruscant.

“Her name was Brienna. We called her Bri for short. Well, Bolts mostly. She was a mechanic that worked on our ships. Deep, brown eyes that felt like she knew everything about you from just one glance, dark, wild curls that she always was blowing out of her face. A smile that could light your whole day up just before she ripped you a new asshole. Maker, she was so smart and quick. She was short, but she acted like she was ten meters tall. Took no shit from anyone.” He realized his cheeks were hurting from how big he was smiling. He hadn’t let himself think about Bri in a long time. Not really. But it felt good.

Arni was smiling too, as if Chuckles’s joy was infectious. “What happened to her?”

The smile on Chuck’s face faded.

“Not sure. I was going to see her on the day the war ended. We’d been seeing each other in secret, keeping it casual. She didn’t want the other pilots to think I was getting special treatment, so we didn’t tell many people. I’d promised to take her to dinner when the war was over and court her properly. And then… well, you know the rest of that story.”

“Did you love her?”

Chuckles chewed the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. Yeah I did. Was thinking of telling her that night.”

“I’m sorry.”

Chuckles met Arni’s eyes again. “I’m not. I got you and Nita out of the deal.”

“But you never got to tell her.”

He sighed again, shrugging one shoulder. “That’s true. But I’d like to think she knew. And I almost hope she thinks I died. Better that than her thinking I was a child killer or a mindless drone that offered the Republic up on a silver platter.”

“That’s still sad.”

Chuckles tucked his hands behind his head, carefully propping his boots up on the flight console of the ship.

“It is, but I was lucky that I got to experience love like that, kid. Not many of my brothers did. There were some that tried to make things work, but it was hard. You knew tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, and if you found someone to share your life with, there was a good chance you might leave them behind. Not to mention a good portion of the galaxy didn’t see us as people in the first place. I was lucky to have Bri, even if it was brief and didn’t end the way I wanted it to.”

“Do you miss her?”

Heat crept up to Chuckle’s cheeks, and his eyes stung slightly. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “When I think about her.” He looked over at Arni. “I think you would have liked her.”

“What if we tried to find her?”

He forced a smile, touched by Arni’s hopefulness and desire to find someone that meant so much to him. But he didn’t share their optimism.

“It’s a nice thought, but I wouldn’t even know where to start, kiddo.” He reached over and squeezed their shoulder.

“I’m alright. I’m sure she’s moved on already. And I want her to be happy, you know?”

Arni appeared to contemplate this for a few moments.

“You should be happy too.”

Chuckles’s smile came more naturally this time. “I will be, kid. It hurts a bit right now, but I will be happy. Don’t you worry.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, watching the stars together. Finally, Chuckles could hear Arni’s breathing deepen, punctuated by the occasional soft snore. As carefully as he could, he gathered the Twi’lek in his arms and made his way down to the hold, doing his best not to trip over the toys that were scattered around. Nita was still dozing quietly, her trooper doll tucked close to her side. Chuckles tucked Arni back into bed gently, waiting a few minutes for the confirmation that they were still asleep, and when he heard another snore escape them, he smiled, sneaking back to the cockpit.

It had been a while since he’d slept in the pilot’s chair, but it felt fitting tonight. He considered what he’d do with the sheets that still smelled like Endi as he retrieved the brown bottle of mystery liquor from its hiding place and sat back down heavily in the weathered seat.

Maybe just a little. There isn’t that much of it left anyway.

Sorry, Crate.

The burn of the booze felt nice and familiar, warming his insides and taking some of the edge off of his feelings. He knew he had to come up with a reason to end things with Endi, one that didn’t create suspicion or out him as an enemy of the Empire. He also knew he’d likely have to carry on the charade for a while longer. He’d acted strangely enough tonight that ending things immediately may make her suspicious.

He hated this.

“Now’s just not a good time for the kids. Work’s getting to be too much, especially with what just happened, and I don’t think that’s fair to you.”

No, that lets her counter it.

“I’m not over the last person I was with. I’m not ready to move on yet. I thought I was, but I’m not.”

That could work.

It wasn’t exactly untrue now that he thought about it. How many times had flashes of Brienna invaded his mind while he was with Endi? How many times had he almost called her the wrong name?

Maybe I was just trying to find someone to fill that space for me. But no one was ever going to be her.

Chuck glanced over at the now-empty co-pilot chair and noticed Arni had left their sketching supplies in it. Leaning over, he picked up a loose piece of flimsi and placed it on the top of their journal before reaching for a pencil.

He started with her eyes. Those were her most striking feature, in his opinion. He could get the shape right after a few rough attempts, but never could seem to capture the light in them or the sharpness, the way they’d always felt like they were pinning him down. He moved on to her nose, which proved easier, and then her lips. He couldn’t quite get their fullness right or the permanent skeptical quirk her mouth always seemed to have, but what he finally came up with felt somewhat acceptable. The curve of her jaw was easy enough from memory; he’d touched that place on her enough to never forget it, cradling her face when he’d kissed her, running his fingers along it as she slept.

Her ears were impossible, and he eventually compromised by deciding to cover them with her hair, but even that wasn’t right. The curls were mostly the right shape, but he couldn’t get them to sit right against her face, nor could he add the shine they always seemed to have. As his frustration grew, so did his level of inebriation, and at some point he tossed the paper and pencil aside with a huff, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and grumbling to himself before eventually drifting off to sleep.

Brienna’s loud cackle and brown eyes haunted his dreams. He could almost feel the rough fabric over her coveralls beneath his fingers, smell the oil and grease on her skin.

Bri.

Even with the concussion, Chuckles slept through the night, too overcome by exhaustion to worry about protocol. When he awoke in the morning, the paper and pencils had all been cleared away along with the empty liquor bottle.

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#karrde writes #one step at a time #osaat #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #clone oc #twilek oc #pantoran oc #jedi oc #OC Chuckles #OC Chuckles Ayyshu #OC Arni #OC Arni Ayyshu #OC Nita #OC Nita Ayyshu #found family #angst #whump

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