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Everything was packed and in order, the checklists quadruple-scrutinized and all roles well established. Hundreds of contingency plans cushioned them in layer upon layer of extra security. They had prepared for this for months. They were ready. They had done this before. They would do this again—many times, Cassian knew, until the Rebellion was either stamped out or victorious. He knew. But base evacuations always unsettled him deeply.
He gave up on pretending to try to sleep and mentally reviewed their morning flight plan as he rode the lift to the top level of the Great Temple. Might as well get one last look from above before heading off to some other rock.
He slowly strode through the expansive throne room and toward the far window slits, feeling in the humid night air the weight of the celebrations and solemn memorials that had taken place in this space. He softly climbed the steps (fourteen of them, he noted—some details just felt important) to the dais where the Princess had decorated the Battle of Yavin survivors and intoned the names of the beloved dead. He sighed at the top and continued to the windows, deftly hopping through to the exterior platform below.
“Hello,” Bodhi chirped with a wave and a bright smile from the wall a few meters away.
“Hi,” Cassian answered, startled but not surprised that someone else had come to this secluded lookout.
“Come here often?” Bodhi teased. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take your spot. I can leave if you want to be alone.”
Cassian sat next to him, resting his back on the cool stone of the temple. “No, no, it’s fine. Stay.”
“I take it you couldn’t sleep?” the pilot asked and settled back in against the wall.
Cassian shook his head. “Evacuations make me nervous.”
“Not to be rude, but evacuations of all things make you nervous?” he prodded playfully. “Not, you know, assassins or spice spiders or public speaking?”
Cassian laughed louder than he had intended, but Bodhi often had that effect on him. “You know what I mean. It just…” he sobered, “it’s an extended period of weakness. Not like a quick in-and-out extraction mission. And it’s not just me and Kay—it’s the whole organization at risk, it’s the High Command, it’s families, it’s you.” He was glad Bodhi chose to nod sympathetically rather than ask if the “you” was meant to be singular or plural. For once he was thankful for Basic’s vague pronouns.
“High stakes,” Bodhi concluded with a gulp. They settled into a brief silence.
“I’ll miss this view,” Cassian finally murmured.
“Yeah, it’s brilliant,” the pilot agreed, looking up from the jungle canopy below to Yavin looming overhead. “I hope wherever we go next is nice.”
“I just hope it’s not snowy.”
“You’re from Fest,” Bodhi giggled incredulously.
“Which means I got my fill of the cold as a child,” Cassian batted back with a grin.
“Fair enough,” Bodhi conceded. “But yeah, this moon is something special. The sky is just so lovely. It’s funny, this here looks a lot like my favorite Jedhan constellation.” He gestured toward an upturned semicircle of seven bright stars glimmering against the soft pink glow of the night. “It was—is?—called the Prince’s Crown, but my mother always told me it was named ‘Bodhi’s Smile,’” he beamed.
Cassian was intellectually aware that he was gawking at Bodhi, that he should stop staring at the damned stars in his eyes and the rosy glow on his skin, that Chirrut had mentioned something relevant to this a few weeks ago, that maybe he should say something suave and pull the man into a kiss. “Oh,” he croaked.
“So I always thought of them as my stars. I remember telling my sister that one day I’d be a pilot and visit them all. Maybe someday.”
“You’ll get there,” Cassian managed. “One day, when the Empire is gone and this karking war is over, we’ll get you a ship of your own and you’ll find your stars.”
Bodhi’s smile was full of hope, and this time Cassian couldn’t stop himself from leaning in to press their lips together.