Work Text:
As I'd known he would be, Corran is still bent over his desk when I return from the pharmacy. He probably hadn't even noticed I was gone.
The flickering lights of his datapad only emphasize the dark shadows under his eyes as I approach. He's been like this since he came back from Lusankya, obsessing over what happened there, trying to figure out where the ship went and how to rescue the prisoners he left behind. Not sleeping.
“Love?” He startles when I lay a hand on his shoulder, and I tighten my fingers, trying to steady him. “It's the middle of the night. You should get some rest.”
He shakes his head. “I'm fine.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
He pauses, staring off into space as if trying to remember. He doesn't answer.
I sigh. “It wasn't last night, and I don't think you ever actually closed your eyes the night before, either.”
“I said I'm fine, Mirax.” He sticks his lip out and turns back to the datapad, but I snag it from him and click it off, dropping the bag I'm holding in front of him instead.
“I brought you these.”
He frowns at me, then at the bag, the expression growing darker when he recognizes the medical symbol on it. “Sleeping pills?” he asks, and apparently he's at least a micron more aware than I thought.
“Yes. It's seeming more and more like you need them.”
He pushes the bag aside and rubs a hand over his eyes. “I don't need pills.”
I let a little bit of my frustration slip out. “You need sleep, Corran. If you don't get it, you're going to go out on a mission one of these days, and you're not going to come back to me. Don't put me through that again.” A thought occurs to me, something that might make him listen. “Don't give my father the satisfaction.”
Corran sighs heavily, seeming to droop in the chair. “How are you always right?”
“You know me,” I say gently, teasingly, touching his arm again, rubbing his shoulders lightly. “If you think you can sleep without the pills, that's great, but if you need them, they're there. Now come to bed.”
“Okay.”
It's what I wanted, but it still makes my heart twist to see him give in like that. He seems so broken down. The things Isard did to him in her prison, those memories he now carries with him, have really done a number on him.
“Okay.” I give him a smile and help him out of the chair. “Should I get you a glass of water?”
“Sure.”
When I come back, he's changed into his pajamas and is sitting on the edge of the bed. He accepts the water and one of the pills, swallowing it with a grimace. “How long's it supposed to take?”
“You'll be sleeping like a baby within half an hour,” I promise him. “And they're non-habit-forming, so you can use them as often as you need to.”
“Great.” He lays down, and I change, too. He doesn't watch, which is another way I can tell how bad off he is.
I turn off the overhead lights, but switch my bedside lamp to the dimmest setting as I come back to the bed. I want to be able to see him, to know he's okay.
We lay facing each other, the look on Corran's face distant and pained. I touch his cheek, drawing his attention back to me. “Hey. Tell me what you're thinking about.”
“I'd rather not.” It's not the first time I've tried to get him to talk about it or the first time he's refused. I think he will eventually, but there are things he has to work through himself first.
“I'm here when you're ready,” I tell him, and he nods, twining his fingers with mine, quiet reassurance for both of us.
I keep watching him, silent and protective. I can see the sleeping pill starting to work, the way his body relaxes a little, losing some of the ever-present tension and melting into the bed. He starts blinking more, slower. I can see him fighting it.
“It's all right,” I tell him softly, stroking his cheek again. “Go to sleep. You're safe here, Corran, with me.”
For a second, he looks as if he doesn't quite believe it. His green eyes are clouded with emotion, with exhaustion. Then, finally, he gives a minuscule nod and lets his heavy lids slide shut. Moments later, I know he's succumbed to sleep at last.
I breathe out in relief, grateful he'll now get some of the rest he so desperately needs. With any luck, the medicine will keep him unconscious until morning, deep and without dreams.
I stay awake watching him for a long time, making sure he's truly at peace. Finally, I move as little as I can to switch off the lamp without disturbing him, then I turn back, take him in my arms, and follow him into sleep.