Work Text:
Living with the Memory
Her dreams are always worse the week leading up to that day.
She dreams of her childhood, a hazy golden time of laughter and learning, art, and music. She dreams of the snow-capped mountain peaks, the lush meadows. She dreams of visiting Cloudshape Falls, and the wonder she felt upon seeing the billowing spray thunder down for the first time. She dreams of walking through the market, running her fingers over an intricately woven blanket, of listening to a nearby street musician play a lively melody. But most of all she dreams of her family. Of her father, sitting by the fire in the evening, sipping from a glass of emerald wine as he read aloud to her and her brothers. She dreams of her mother, running a comb through her long, black hair in the morning, Cara sitting on her lap. “I want hair like yours, Mama.” “Patience, my darling. One day it will be.” Cara thought about cutting her own hair in the aftermath, when she looked in the mirror and saw her mother’s face staring back, but she couldn’t bear to lose this last piece of her family. She dreams of their faces, turned towards the sun, as a shadow draws over its surface—she dreams of fire, of screams, of burning.
She wakes those nights with a strangled gasp. Sometimes it is Din, sometimes it is Cobb, who gathers her into their arms and holds her tight. They don’t ask her to explain—they know. They just hold her.
* * * * *
She stays in bed on the actual day itself. She has no energy for anything. She worries briefly what the others will think of her but decides she doesn’t care. This is the first time she hasn’t spent the Disaster by herself. Din woke before all of them in his usual way, and was up in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest to their next destination. He told them they should be there by nightfall. Cobb stayed with her, stroking her hair, as she lay curled up next to him, trying desperately not to think about her parents, her brothers, her friends, her neighbors, her town, her people, her planet. She squeezes her eyes shut. Did they suffer? Was it painful? Did her parents know what was about to happen? Or did they die instantly, killed before they could feel any fear?
She falls asleep at some point—when she wakes, Cobb is still there. He is reading a book, as he soothingly traces her shoulder with his fingertips. Grogu is cuddled up next to her, cooing. She isn’t sure how much time has passed, but it doesn’t matter, not today.
“Do you need anything?” Cobb asks, as he notices she’s awake.
“Just stay with me,” she says. She feels hollow, empty.
“I’m not going anywhere, love.” He continues to run his fingers softly over her skin, tracing little circles.
She burrows into his side and eventually she falls asleep again to the sound of turning pages and Grogu babbling.
* * * * *
“Cara?”
She wakes with a gasp from a dream—her parents, crying out as the sky burns. For a moment she is disoriented, but then she sees the familiar helm. Din is beside her where Cobb was earlier—she is not alone. “Din?” she hates how her voice rasps. She should be stronger than this, she was a Rebel shock trooper for kriff’s sake. It’s been 10 years now since her home was lost. She should be stronger.
Din holds out a hand to her, “I have something I’d like to show you.”
She stares stupidly at his outstretched hand, and blurts out, “Today?”
“Yes. I thought…” Din’s voice is uncharacteristically hesitant, “…I thought it might…offer you a small bit of comfort.”
She continues to stare at his hand. She doesn’t understand. Her thoughts feel sluggish.
Din pulls back a little, “Of course, I understand if you’d rather not go anywhere,” he says.
She decides that anything is better than laying here trying not to think of everything she’s lost. “No,” she says, rubbing her palms across her face, “I think I’d like a change of scenery.” She takes Din’s hand and lets him help her out of bed. She dresses simply, black pants and shirt, a dark red jacket. Din tells her there is no need for heavy clothing. She leaves her hair down.
Cobb is in the cargo area, next to the open ramp, holding Grogu. His silver hair is shining in moonlight spilling through the open hatch. He gives her a gentle side hug as she and Din approach and Grogu turns his head towards her, reaching his arms out for her to take him. But Cobb adjusts his hold, and gently shushes him, “Not now, kid.” Grogu seems to understand and he settles, wide eyes blinking up at her.
“What’s all this?” Cara asks, taken aback. She’s a little confused. “Where are we?”
Din answers, “We’re on a planet called Elamir.” He takes her hand and leads her off the ship.
She steps out into a grassy plain, that stretches as far as her eyes can see. She pauses, taking in the sight. Golden glowing flowers are scattered throughout the field like fireflies, rustling beneath a warm breeze. It is quiet—the only sound the soft chirp of insects. There is nothing in the distance, no buildings, only the endless sway of the grass and the glow from the flowers, under the clear night sky. She turns to look at Din beside her, the man a dark silhouette in his Beskar armor, and says, “This is lovely, but I don’t understand.”
“This way,” he says. He leads her up a small nearby slope, Cobb walking beside them quietly. The stars shimmer down upon them, sparkling—The stars…
Din stops beside her, sensing her sudden tension. She clutches at his arm, as her eyes frantically scan the sky. She can’t speak, her heart is in her throat. She lets out a strangled gasp as she spots it—it’s there, shining…Alderaan. “Din,” she whispers. She feels that aching, ever present hole in her heart, and her vision blurs.
“Elamir is far enough away that the light from the explosion hasn’t reached here. I thought…you might want to see it again.” Din’s voice is gentle, unsure. It undoes her.
She crumples into his chest, as a series of harsh, clawing sobs rip from her. She misses her home, so much. Her chest aches, how does she mourn for her entire planet? She feels like she’s drowning; the rage and pain she’s been holding in so tightly finally spills out of her, and she gasps for air. She’s barely aware of Din’s arms around her, of Cobb at her side. She clutches at Din’s chest as she cries and cries for everything she’s lost.
Gradually, her grief calms. She can feel Din still holding her, he is murmuring “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Cobb is beside her, his presence solid and reassuring. She feels exhausted. She sniffles, pulling back from Din’s shoulder, awkwardly wiping at her nose. “I think I’ve ruined your cloak.” She feels unsure of herself all of a sudden. She’s never cried like this in front of them before.
Din gives her a brief squeeze, “It doesn’t matter. There are other cloaks.”
She closes her eyes and leans into his embrace. She focuses on breathing. In…out…Din’s chest is solid beneath her, Cobb’s warmth against her back. She’s a bit surprised to find that she feels…better. The grief is still there, it will always be, but with Din and Cobb at her side it is more bearable than before.
Din tilts his head down at her, “Would you like to go back to the ship?”
She thinks about it. Then she looks back up at where the light from Alderaan is still shining. “No,” she says. “I’d like to stay out here a while, with both of you.” She releases her grip on Din, and they sit in the grass.
Cobb sets Grogu down and settles on her other side. The kid totters around, exploring, and they all watch him as he chases down a bug and eats it. “What was it like?” Cobb asks, his voice soft. There’s no pity, only love and understanding. “Your home?”
She gazes up at where Alderaan is shining, and blinks back fresh tears. She’s surprised to discover that she does want to talk. “It was…beautiful,” she says. “I grew up in a city called New Juranno—it was in a valley in the Juran mountain range. It was like it had been carved out of the mountainside. I remember hiking paths in the foothills as a kid, with my mother—she was a geologist, it was why we lived there. She used to go on and on about the rock formations. My brothers and I, we thought—” she chokes on another small sob, “—we always thought it was so boring, you know? Who cares about rocks?”
She sees Cobb smile out of the corner of her eye. She realizes that she has never spoken to him or Din about her home. Why would she? Everyone in the galaxy knows about Alderaan, about the Disaster. About her lost culture. Sometimes when people see her Tear they walk up to her and tell her about how lovely her planet was, how sophisticated, “Such art…” or “Such beauty…” and the inevitable pity, “Such a shame it’s gone.” She can barely stand these people—sometimes she doesn’t and lets her fists talk for her.
But with Din and Cobb—it’s different. This is the first time she’s spent the Disaster with people who genuinely care about her, and she finds that she wants to talk about her home in a way that she hasn’t in a long time. She’s always been tough, had to be, but now in this moment, she realizes that with these two, she can also be a complete and total mess. She doesn’t have to explain or hide her grief. She thinks back on the week leading up to this horrible day, and their ever-present support and feels the quiet, steady warmth of their love spread through her. She wishes she could take them to Alderaan, show them where she grew up, introduce them to her parents. Those things will never be. But she can share her home with them in this way.
So, she talks. She tells them of her childhood—of that hazy golden time. She tells them about the art, the music, her favorite books that her father would read her. She talks about growing up in the city, the bustling markets, the food, her school. She talks about the mountains, the meadows. Visiting Cloudshape Falls. And she tells them how much she misses her family, her mother’s smile, her father’s voice, her brothers’ laughter, the devastation she felt when she found out they were gone, and they hold her as she weeps.
Later, she falls asleep, nestled between them under the stars, and when she dreams, they are, for once, peaceful.