Archive of Our Own ^beta

  “I'm WORKING on IT!” The ship rocked in the shock wave, thrashing in the sky like a wounded animal as the pilot pivoted a harsh left.

  Blaster fire tailed their every movement, singeing the hull of the Stinger Mantis and rattling it's walls. With every jerk in a new direction, and every bolt that landed, the passengers within were all but thrown across the flight deck, gripping consoles and armrests with their lives just to stay in their seats.

  “Work faster, Greez!” The young redhead occupying the co-pilot seat urged, his hand flying out to catch the small droid on the dash beside him before he had the chance to get launched in the next crashing impact against the ship.

  “Y'know, I'm starting to think none of you have piloted a ship before! This is actually a lot harder than it looks!” Greez began to air his grievances impulsively, reasonably stressed given the situation, emphasizing his points with each action he had to take to navigate the unforgiving storm that enveloped Zeffo, “Why anyone would look at this place and think 'Oh yeah, this would be the perfect place to settle down, build a home, start a family, right smack dab in the MIDDLE of a RAGING TYPHOON!'--If there is a single panel missing from my ship, it's coming out of your pockets!”

  “Less talking, more flying!” Another voice chimed in from behind, her tone austere and urgent.

  Another missile caught up to them, clipping their wing and shoving everyone forward in their seats. Sparks rained down from the controls overhead, bouncing around the cabin and sizzling against their clothes and hair and skin. It took every hand Greez hand to recover from the hit, a growl of effort escaping him through gritted teeth.

  “I need an opening here!” He shouted, rushing to flip switches, attempting to reroute the power they just lost and swiveling the ship up towards the clouded sky.

  “Myles!” The redhead called as he gave his seat a harsh turn, launching up and stumbling for the door, “Take over for me!”

  “What—Why—Where are you going?!” The Myles in question was sat in the guest seat, arms and legs pressed firmly to either side of the small nook of the bridge, dedicating every ounce of his physical strength to stay in place, and every bit of his mental fortitude not to succumb entirely to the panic he quite reasonably felt at this particular moment in time.

  Despite this, however, he hauled himself up and struggled up to the co-pilot seat. On the way, another explosion rocked the ship, the two of them thrown and losing their balance, staggering directly into each other. Arms quickly grasped for balance, steadying themselves on the other, checking to make sure they were both okay. For a brief moment, their eyes met, locked, faces mere inches apart, before they both quickly swerved back towards their destinations, Myles immediately taking station.

  “I have an idea!” The Padawan shouted back, departing the bridge and racing through the Mantis.

  Greez and Myles shared uncertain glances, but didn't have the time to really express their concerns, as a second Imperial gunship broke through the cloud coverage in front of them and obscured their view of the sky, forcing Greez to send the Mantis into a spin. Like a game of chicken, the two raced towards each other, the fin of the Mantis trailing clouds in a spiral as they tumbled upwards through the sky. The engines burned hot with effort, fighting against the gravity of the planet, and against the whipping winds of the storm. They rushed up and up and up, gunship rapidly growing closer and closer, and closer still, until the noses of their ships were mere metres apart. The LAAT flinched first, pulling up just in the nick of time to avoid an all-out collision, allowing the Mantis to swerve and level out. But not without a fight, Greez and Myles working together with great strain to pull the ship out of it's aerobatic twirl.

  As this nauseating maneuver was executed, the scrapper practically crawled his way through the holotable room, gravity shifting and pinning him to the ground as they rose in a spin. He clawed his way across the seats lining the walls, and hefted himself up as he reached one of the boarding hatches. Slamming his hand on the controls, he opened the door and extended the ramp, bracing against the wall as the wind ripped through the interior in a violent burst.

  “What the hell are you doing, Cal?!” Greez called from up front, painfully aware of the gaping hole that was very suddenly in the side of his ship now. His ship, pointed directly for the sky and rocketing quiet frankly disturbingly quickly towards the part of the galaxy that didn't have important things they needed inside the ship, such as AIR or CABIN PRESSURE!

  However, Greez's vexed shouts fell on deaf ears, his voice drowned out by the whipping wind rushing passed Cal at the hatch. Beside him, the wispy and deep greys of the endless storm surged passed the opening, drenching him in the tempestuous rains as they were blown in through the door. He flinched, shielding his face as the second transport fell passed through the sky, bathing him in unexpected darkness, only to blind him in it's absence. The Mantis slowly steadied out from it's ascending roll, the g-forces that had been pinning the Padawan to the floor easing a little too much. He started to slip, pulling down towards the stern end of the starship with the gravitational forces of the volatile planet. Thinking quick, Cal planted his feet on the side of the open hatch, kneeling down to keep his balance against the relentless gale.

  He watched as the second dropship narrowly avoided colliding with their original pursuer, the both of them dipping away from each other to give the new transport room to bank back around, joining in the chase now from behind. From the exposed sides of the second LAAT, Imperial troopers caught sight of Cal and took aim, forcing him to throw himself off balance with a shocked “Whoa!”, only just managing to dodge the incoming blaster fire as it sailed passed his face and ricocheted off the hull beside him.

  Groaning, he strained to right himself on the door frame, rising to a crouch and turning his attention to the gunships on their tail. With an eruption of smoke, the first ship fired off another set of missiles, hurtling at great speeds towards the Mantis' engines. This was exactly what the Padawan was looking for.

  As the honing rockets rushed closer and closer, Cal threw his hand out into the ripping squall and took a slow, steadying breath. Everything, from the thunder that cracked all around, to the whistling of the approaching missiles, to the rickety rattling of the struggling Mantis, faded away from Cal's mind as he focused. He honed in on, and only on, the missiles in front of him, extending something beyond himself and his outstretched hand. Through a power that was more than him, through a living string weaved through the very fabric of the galaxy, he gripped a hold of the explosive projectiles.

  Their smoking trails fizzled out, no longer propelled forward, but instead suspended in place, pulled along at a fixed distance to the ship hurtling skyward. Ginger eyebrows furrowed as he exerted every bit of his concentration to reach out and manipulate the rocket propelled explosives attempting to fire from his unseen grasp. In this moment of quiet, this otherworldly stillness, the missiles began to turn. Cal's hand slowly twisted, and with that motion, the missiles pivoted in place, guided in a new direction.

  With a stilted gasp, Cal released his hold. In a burst, the sound of the raging storm, hectic winds beating his face, blaster bolts charring the body of the Mantis, all came rushing back to him. The missiles ignited back to life and shot through the air, streaking directly for the second LAAT that had joined the fight. The impact was immediate, catching the side of the cockpit and erupting into a massive explosion, knocking the troopers in the hold out into the open skies. The gunship reeled in the air, dark black smoke billowing from the gaping hole in it's nose as the engines sputtered and whirred. The transport began to list in the air, falling to the side and colliding into the first ship with a deafening crash.

  The strike into the side of the gunship was devastating, another explosion chaining through both airships and sending a shock wave into the blustering hurricane, causing the Mantis to jolt and bounce against the turbulence. Cal was thrown off balance once again, desperately gripping the door frame as his legs swung out from underneath him, dangling in parallel to the walls. Below, the Imperial ships hung for a moment, trailing up into the sky only by the residual momentum of their disabled engines, before slowly they began to sink, gripped by gravity and pulled down into a free fall. In one fell swoop, out of commission and out of their hair.

  But there was no reprieve. Not yet. The Mantis sailed higher and higher, breaking through the clouds and into an eerie peace above the raging storm. From greys to light, dull blues, Cal fought the wind and gravity, and the heavy drag of their rocketed ascent, to scale the open hatch. Time was running out, and air was running thin as the Mantis gained altitude rapidly. Hefting himself up, he managed to pull his knees into his chest, allowing him to press them down on the small section of wall that flanked either side of the hatch doors, giving him the stability he needed to reach up and grab hold of the other side of the doorway. Beside him, the sky began to transition. Muted blue slowly and smoothly thinned, giving way to the endless blackness of empty space.

  Leaving the atmosphere, gravity began to lessen. Cal shoved himself upwards, hand reaching out and slamming into the control panel for the hatch. In his mind, he began to count, waiting for the door to close with rising alarm.

  One. The boarding ramp hissed as it slowly retracted on itself. Come on.

  Two. The ramp locked into place with a bassy thunk. Come on!

  Three. The door between him and the vast expanse of space slipped shut with a harsh hiss and slam, sealed and locked in an instant.

  Before there was time for anything else, he shouted as loud as he could towards the bridge. “NOW!”

  Immediately the cabin pressure was automatically reinitialised, causing the teen to drop to the floor with an unceremonious thud as the hyperdrive charged. He scrambled to his feet, making it to the flight deck doors just as they made their jump into hyperspace. The countless pinpricks of light that spanned every inch of the front window of the cockpit all at once warped, stretched into streaks across their view as the ship was launched forward. Everyone lurched with the motion, Cal falling forward and stumbling his way to hang onto the backs of the pilot and co-pilot seats, face bathed in rippling blue light as they entered the swirling vortex of hyperspace.

  For a brief moment, there was silence. Everyone was still, as though they hadn't yet processed their successful escape, hadn't yet realised they were safe. The crew let out a collective sigh of relief, each one of them falling back into their seats and releasing the tension in their shoulders. Cal dipped his head down, allowing himself a moment to breathe, reeling from the magnitude of that daring escape. That was barely seconds away from going very differently and he wasn't quiet ready to address how real failure could have been.

  With a breathless sigh, Greez turned towards his crew, and gestured casually, “See, that wasn't so bad!”

  All heads turned to him, each with their own disproving look, earning a indignant “What?” from the Latero pilot. Cal and Myles glanced to each other, and let out soft breathless laughs, Cal shaking his head as he straitened up, patting the back of Greez's chair a few times. The crew all tuned back to their respective consoles, tacking away at the buttons and leaving Greez without response. He let out a lighthearted, exasperated scoff and ultimately gave up, hissing an airy 'bah' under his breath with a wave of his hands.

  “How are we lookin', Cere?” He asked, reaching up to test the console overhead, flipping switches repeatedly only to find them unresponsive.

  “We're holding together, Captain, but only just,” The former Jedi informed from behind, “Aft shields are barely operational, the hull has taken heavy damage, half the helm controls are dark, and we are hemorrhaging power from the hyperdrive. At this rate, we'll be forced out of hyperspace within the hour, and lose all navigation.”

  From the dash in front of Myles, the small droid raised his head, antennae rotating upright and alert, and he bounced in place, beeping and wooping with enthusiasm. Cal laughed, and Greez jerked head head between them with indignation.

  “What, what's he saying?” He pressed, as always displeased with the exploration droid's antics and opinions.

  “BD says he could fly the Mantis, when we lose the helm,” Cal relayed, well aware how the idea would be received, and smirking in anticipation.

  “Not on my life, you over-glorified datatape!” Greez swatted his hand through the air, nowhere within reach of the BD unit, but still effectively threatening.

  BD jumped back, then quickly scurried across the dash, hopping up onto Myles' shoulder and using him as a springboard to leap onto Cal's back, seeking safety behind his trusted Human companion. Feet gripping the leather strap across Cal's back, the droid let out a quiet string of laughing beeps as he hunkered down, Cal and Myles joining in under their breaths.

  “I think I can keep us limping,” Myles spoke up, though tentative, “At least long enough to get us to Bogano for real repairs. I use to have to work repairs on Imperial ships. Some general stuff, but more than anything electrical issues, rerouting power. The systems are a little bit different, but it shouldn't be too hard to figure out a luxury yacht, these things are pretty standardised.”

  Greez let out a strained noise from his throat, filled with uncertainty as he reached a hand up and rubbed the back of his neck, “I dunno, kid, I don't trust just anybody to get behind the panels of my ship, y'know. She's my baby!” He gestured with his two sets of hands vaguely, hemming and hawing, “I mean I'm not saying I don't think you're capable, that's not it at all! She's just, y'know... Delicate. You need a special touch to really connect with her--”

  “Greez,” Cere interposed with a warning tone, shooting him a staid look.

  “Alright, alright, fine! But don't you go messin' anything up back there!” The Latero threw his hands up in defeat, begrudgingly relenting to the Humans, and droid, surrounding him.

  Myles grinned like a child whose parents agreed to allow him a Keshian spice roll after dinner, and hopped up from the co-pilot seat with gusto. Cal pulled away from his position hanging onto the backs of the two chairs to allow Myles passage, but reversed only just enough, forcing Myles to squeeze passed him. Their chests brushed, and the electrician shot the scrapper a knowing look. As far as appearances were concerned, he looked unamused. But Cal knew better. He could see from the proximity the look in Myles' eyes, the way they fell half-lided as they met his, and the subtle but very-much-present smirk that flashed across his lips in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it tug. Then he was gone, slipped away and practically bounding deeper into the Mantis.

  “She's delicate! Delicate!” Greez shouted after the brunet with urgency, grumbling to himself something about privacy and personal belongings under his breath.

  With a quick turn passing through the doorway beside the galley, Myles navigated his way through the Mantis with ease, hurrying eagerly to engineering at the back of the ship. He actually knew what he was doing! This was his niche, his specialty! He could actually help! And so, he had to deliver!

  This crew took him in when he was hurt, and on the run just like they were. They went out of their way to dress his wounds, they gave him food and shelter. A home. If there was anything he could do, he had to. To even begin to repay them for their kindness.

  Grabbing hold of the railing, Myles hopped up, swinging a leg over and standing on the very edge of the upper floor grating. Once over, he reached behind him and gripped a ladder rung tight, crossing the gap and quickly descending. Halfway, he jumped down with a dull thunk, rising back up with a voracious desire to get to work right away. Examining the hallway, he immediately identified the controls console opposite to the ladder and wasted no time prying the panel beside it off the wall. With a twirling flourish he unholstered his multitool and reached into the mess of circuitry and wiring. He ascertained the problem straightaway, and began the, yes admittedly delicate process of rerouting power without short-circuiting anything or losing anymore energy than they already were.

  While Myles concentrated, toiling away in the bowels of the ship, someone else joined him down in the lower engine room. Gripping either side of the ladder, Cal slid down smoothly and departed into the thin room in one fluid motion. Seeing Myles, he immediately diverted his attention, taking long slow steps as he moved his eyes all around the hallway, though not really looking at anything. His torso twisted with each step, sauntering his way around in a rehearsed nonchalant manner, his thumbs hooked over the straps hanging at his waist off either side of his vest, leaving his hands hanging loose. He very nearly started whistling, but managed to hold himself back at least that much. No, he had to play it cool here. Wouldn't want to draw any unnecessary attention.

  “How can I help you, Kestis?” Myles asked without even sparing the redhead a glance, his delivery playfully sarcastic.

  “Hm?” He pretended to be surprised, to act as though he hadn't expected to be addressed, head practically snapping in Myles' direction, “Oh! Actually, I was thinking I might be able to help you. Y'know, maybe I could... give you a hand?” His slow but steady sauntering drew him closer to the brunet electrician, until he was right up beside him, a hand sneaking it's way forward and fiddling idly with the bottom edge of Myles' jacket, though his eyes were locked on his face as he leaned against the wall beside him.

  “Oh yeah? That so?” Myles' previously sarcastic tone lifted with the additional notes of amusement, incapable of containing the admittedly flustered smirk that played across his lips.

  Cal gave a small hum of affirmation, leaning his head closer, “Hey, c'mon now, have a little faith!~”

  Now was the moment, his chance to move in. All in one smooth, practiced motion, he ducked his head down and moved forward. He twisted his body, fitting himself expertly into the space between Myles and the panel he was focused on, nestling in cosy against his body. His head lifted back up, fitting neatly in the gap of Myles' outstretched arms. His hand fiddling with the hem of the brunet's golden jacket moved up, joined by his other to rest loose and low around Myles' waist, and the redhead smirked as he met those golden-brown eyes.

  “I've been a scrapper for years, I think I know my way around the, uh... inner workings of a starship.~”

  At that, Myles let out a breathy scoff, the flustered smirk he donned only growing, his jaw cocking to the side momentarily as he adverted his eyes from that wonderful, obnoxious face suddenly so so close to his own. This guy! But despite the seemingly exasperated reaction to the scrapper's sheer gall, Myles relaxed easily in Cal's hands. The tension in his shoulders and back unwound the moment he'd moved in, and without any thought involved he naturally pressed closer, his arms resting over the Padawan's shoulders.

  With a roll of the eyes, Myles opted to simply ignore this five foot nine distraction consuming his field of view and tilted his head to the side, peering around and continuing to work on restoring the power to the bridge unabated. Cal chuckled at that, and Myles could feel the vibrations against his chest, causing his skin to prickle in response, and heat to rise into his sun-kissed cheeks. What a lovely thing, this boy that was stood before him.

  “And what would a scrapper know about fixing a ship? Isn't your job to tear starships apart?” He asked idly, voice hushed so to speak gently in this scrapper's ear.

  And so it was Cal's turn for the hair on his arms and neck to stand on end, risen in a ripple across his body. He let out his own scoff now, biting the corner of his lip and releasing it slowly, “Hey now, that knowledge can be applied in reverse, can't it?” He posed, his head tilting ever so slightly as a hand absentmindedly played with the fabric of the electrician's jumper.

  “Uh-huh, okay, yeah,” Myles indulged with a laugh, greeting him with teasing doubt, “I can definitely see that.”

  Cal's cool and cocky smirk quickly grew into a much more genuine smile as he attempted to stifle a laugh, resulting in a quiet outward snort. It was far too much fun to play this little game with Myles. To tease him, play coy, and get a rise out of him, to draw out that adorable dusting of red across his cheeks. To see him smile and laugh. It was so rare they ever had moments like this. Where they could truly be alone together. It was always like this. Hidden away in dark corners, voices hushed. A secret they shared.

  His smile softened. Eyes became half-lidded as he relaxed between two pieces of machinery jutting out from the wall behind him and just watched Myles. Observed the look of concentration on his face as he worked inside the panel behind Cal's head. From the corner of his mouth, the tiniest sliver of tongue was just visible enough for Cal to notice. An unconscious habit, he'd witnessed before, that Myles had when he was truly focused. When he's working. Be it preparing food, honing his aim during lessons with Cere, or tilting his head to see around a particularly audacious redheaded ex-scrapper and Padawan-in-progress so he could reroute power through a starship.

  He could, as well, see small beads of sweat forming on Myles' brow. It was certainly warmer down here, surrounded by the chugging engines of the ship, the hyperdrive whirring away beside them. That and perhaps, as well, the human body wedged up against his own, shamelessly flirting with him. He liked to think, at least, that might contribute.

  Then of course, there were his eyes. It had taken him a long time to figure out what colour they were, exactly. At least, within the category of humanoid shades. Hazel. Mostly brown. A rich, deep brown. But laced within, in streaks that gathered and burst from the centre, the edges of his pupils, was gold. Flecks, like rays from a sun shining behind an eclipse. The most stunning eyes Cal had ever in his life seen. Eyes he could, was in the process of, and would for as long as he was permitted, get entirely, utterly, hopelessly lost in.

  With a slow, dreamy sigh, Cal leaned his head to the side, resting it atop Myles' arm resting atop his own shoulder, once again blocking the brunet's view of the task he was attempting to preform. He just hoped to catch those warm, brilliant golden-brown eyes, if only just one more time.

  “You are so beautiful, Myles Goldenlight,” He breathed out, hardly above a whisper, gazing at Myles with adoration.

  At his feet, Cal heard something clatter and roll across the grating, but he didn't have the time to react. The arms resting on his shoulders pulled away, forcing him to lift his head as hands gripped the collar of his vest, and Myles yanked him forward, and into a kiss. Before Cal had time to think, Myles was moving backwards, dragging the redhead along with him until his back found the opposite wall. Though, Cal was no bystander in this exchange. His hands resting around the brunet's waist immediately gripped tighter, palms pressing flat against his sides. All the better to guide him with, pushing while Myles pulled until they found surface, and Cal pinned him there, wasting no time deepening their incandescent kiss.

  As heads tilted and tongues danced, their arms gripped and pulled at each other with something nearing desperation. Myles' hands released the thick material of Cal's collar, snaking upwards. One hand buried immediately into Cal's beautiful, soft hair, digging in and pulling with ardor. The other found Cal's face. His fingers trailed up his neck, tracing the scar that carved up his jaw, then turned a sharp corner and followed along the scrapper's jawline, the rubbery fingertips of his gloves catching against scruffy stubble before stopping short of his chin and pressing in, using that as purchase to hold him ever closer into the kiss.

  All the while, Cal's hands couldn't seem to settle on any one place, gliding up and down Myles' torso and back, holding him tight and holding him close and never seeming satisfied. Like he couldn't find what he was searching for. Was he even sure he knew what that was? Gripping the off-white jumper Myles had always been especially fond of, Cal tugged. Upward, he pulled on the fabric, acting purely on instinct, and freed the garment from it's place tucked into Myles' trousers. His hands slipped up the electrician's back, up under his jumper and pressed flush against his warm, bare skin, seeking out that heat as though it were the only warmth in the entire galaxy. At that, he pressed himself even closer to the brunet, their heads trading alignment as they allowed themselves to get utterly lost in one another.

  All at once, in a familiar, dizzying rush, they were all over each other, fervent and yearning for these very sequestered moments.

  It was passionate—practically frantic, how they kissed each other. How they seemed to desire occupying the same space, to melt into each other because there was no where else they would rather be than right here, entangled and whole, yet all the same entirely undone.

  It never lasted.

  “Are you sure you know what you're doing, kid?”

  Greez's voice projected through the ship, amplified as it resonated off the steel walls. He called out, and a jolt of something they could only describe as terror shot through the inweaved pair.

  As quickly and frenetic as it had begun, Cal ripped himself away from the kiss just as Myles shoved him off. They both rushed to correct their disheveled appearances, to make themselves presentable, as though this had never happened. Cal combed his hands through his mussed up hair, smoothing it back and into place. Myles quickly tucked his jumper back down with one hand while the other wiped the saliva from his lip. They were both breathless and panting, faces flushed red. From the heat of the engines, from the panic that raced through their veins, and perhaps from the rush of it all. With a glance, they exchanged an all-too-familiar look. Nervous. Aching. Commiserative...

  From there, the sheepish teens stood there on the lower deck of engineering, and they waited. One second... Two seconds... Three seconds... On and on, tension building in their shoulders. At any moment, footsteps would approach. Any moment now and the Captain of the ship would enter the room above, and he would peer down through the gated floor, and he would catch them red faced and red handed.

  Seconds rolled over into minutes, and yet no such confrontation occurred. Time stretched on, and no one appeared overhead. That shout had not been indication of inspection, but rather a call of verbal impatience. A relief swept through the both of them, though their stress did not lessen. They had been startled apart over a false alarm. But they knew it was far too risky to pick up where they had left off. It was always a risk. That they might be discovered. That they would be found out, that these scandalous encounters would be exposed.

  Stooping low, Myles retrieved his discarded multitool from the floor in a fluid scoop and returned to the open panel in the wall, resumed the task he had been assigned.

  Cal stood there, in the middle of the droning engine room, feeling flustered and awkward. He was unsure what to do with himself after that rather intense... exchange, followed by how very jarring it was to be ripped out of it. He needed a moment, to collect his thoughts, to calm his heart rate, to compose himself. At least before he could return topside and face the others, to maintain a convincing façade that nothing was going on between him and the attractive electrical technician he himself had rescued and brought on board. So for the time being, he simply... stood there.

  “Cal, I...” Myles' voice faltered, catching in his throat, “I'm sorry--”
  “No! Hey, no, you don't have anything to be sorry for. I get it,” Cal huffed, bitterly amused by that statement, “'I get it' Of course I get it, I'm the one who said we can't keep doing this! I'm the reason we can't... I just-I... It's just...” Reaching his hands up, Cal pressed them into his face, dragging them downwards as he let out a slow, dispirited sigh, “It sucks. I know we can't be doing this, I know it's too dangerous. With the whole of the Empire--and worse then--Inquisitors constantly on our asses. I can't have this... attachment, because it puts your life in danger, and it leaves me open to manipulation to the dark side but I—I... I can't get you out of my head...” His voice trailed off, becoming nothing more than a breathless whisper.

  To that, though obscured from Cal's view, Myles blushed. Can you imagine that? Going about your life, just being yourself. Living and breathing and merely existing, and that--all by itself!--being powerful enough to sway a Jedi. It was just as much flattering as it was utterly terrifying. To hold that sort of power over someone so unimaginably powerful in ways you still can hardly begin to comprehend. To know just how dangerous it was for him to have that sort of weakness at all. You.

  “But you know that I understand,” He responded in earnest, “Believe me, there is nothing in the galaxy I want more than this. I know you know that. That's exactly why I get it. I care about you, beyond words. That's why I know it's too risky, too dangerous for us to be doing this. It puts your life in danger. You are so outrageous and crazy and wonderful. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt. No matter what we have to be to ensure that.”

  There was a moment of silence between them. Cal looked to the ground with a sigh, feeling dejected and... hopeless. Myles carefully worked his way through the Mantis' circuitry, diligent and focused. But contemplative, as well.

  “Actually, I... I've been thinking about you, and this whole situation for a while now. Started to sort of... make peace with it? Maybe that doesn't make sense...” The brunet hesitated, shaking his head, “I just... I realised recently that what happens to us, or what could happen to us, is entirely outside of our control. I mean, it's factually inevitable, being what—and more so who-- you are, that something will happen to you. Not fifteen minutes ago we were in that exact position! The Empire, Inquisitors, maybe even something worse are after you, after us. There's no other option than to accept that anything could happen to any of us.

  “But even then, I can still care for you alongside that acceptance. Still carry these feelings for you. There's no other way that whatever this is works—That is to say, no other way of existing. I know that, when it comes down to it, I cannot change what happens to us, nor can I fight the overwhelming power of randomness. There is no fight to be had.” Myles blinked, realising abruptly that he had begun rambling, feeling suddenly self-concious, “What we do with this, however? That's up to you. I would not ask anything of you... I couldn't do that to you. And I cannot make that choice for you. But... No matter what your decision would be, I will stand by you. More than anything else, we're friends—Hell, you're my best friend! No matter what, I will always be there for you.”

  Now, it was Cal's turn to blush. Listening to Myles speak, his gaze had been drawn to him, and by the end he was outright staring. His cadmium green eyes widened as he drew in a dilatory and stunned breath. It was as though something clicked into place, back in the subconscious recesses of his mind. A spark shone in his eyes, reflected from the multitool prodding the internal power lines of the spaceship.

  Of course.

  Jedi aren't supposed to have attachments. Like a key turning in a lock, all at once Cal understood. There was a distinction. Attachment was something entirely different to love. Attachment was possessive. It was selfish, it was desperate. He had been raised, taught and trained to be just the opposite. To be selfless. To let go.

  But he had been raised, taught and trained to love. The Jedi were encouraged to love everything. Every living thing throughout the entire galaxy, even their enemies. Even the Sith. To love was key, it was vital to their presence in the galaxy. They were taught to love, but to never form attachments. Never in his life, in his forcibly limited training, had he ever really worked out what that meant. He had never figured out the distinction, had never before known there was any at all. But listening to Myles speak, of his realisation, of this conclusion he had come to all on his own, opened Cal's eyes. He could love him, wholeheartedly, and he could do that without fear. Without attachment. He could accept that the universe was beyond any of their control, that anything, be it good or bad, could happen to them. He could let go, and he could love him.

  People were not possessions, they were not things. They could not be owned. They were free, they were their own individual beings, existing and reacting and making their own choices. In the infinite span of the universe, entirely random events could, were, and would occur to any random individuals, at any random moment. All at once, Cal understood.

  He let out his breath.

  Suddenly, a rising hum washed it's way throughout the Stinger Mantis, systems all across it's confines singing back to life. Myles let out a 'Ah-hah!' of triumph as he withdrew his hands from the exposed components. He stooped, snatching the panel face from where it had been propped up against the wall, and secured it back into place with a satisfying clunk.

  He turned, and began to step towards the ladder, but halted suddenly, paused in place as he passed by Cal in the middle. His eyes cast down to the ground for a moment, wandering closer in the redhead's direction as he tried to find the right words he wanted to say. Slowly, he reached out. He gingerly took hold of Cal's glove-less hand in his own, and brought them both up. With a peaceful sigh he closed his eyes, and lifted Cal's hand, pressing the back against his forehead tenderly. Cal couldn't help the small smile that took his features, eyes squinting with adoration.

  Myles' voice was sweet and gentle as he spoke, there only for Cal's ears, “No matter what happens to us, I'm going to be your friend and I'm going to stick with you. One day, when all of this is behind us, and we have a shot at this being everything it could be and more? I'll be there. Waiting for you, waiting for this.” Raising his head, he pressed his lips to Cal's hand, the brief kiss just as delicate as it was resolute.

  Then, he began to pull away. He smiled, and continued towards the ladder, keeping Cal's hand in his own and allowing their arms to stretch until they could reach no longer. They both allowed their hands to slip apart, arms falling loose to their sides, and Myles departed engineering entirely, shouting ahead to Greez to give the controls a try now.

  Cal remained. He had been... stunned, by that. By the realisation happening in his mind, cogs turning. But then, the small smile across his lips spread, grew into something he couldn't contain, lopsided and joyful and in love. Absentmindedly he held his own hand, thumb brushing circles around the skin Myles had kissed.

  There was hope. For them. For the future.

  That could tide him over.

  Over his head, BD beeped, snapping Cal out of his love-struck daze. The Padawan craned his neck upwards to see the small droid peering his head over the edge of the upper deck's floor and into the room below, standing between the legs of the railing. Merrily, he beeped again now that he had his companions attention, antennae swiveling.

  “Shaddup!” Cal said in a low, throaty, but otherwise playful tone, smiling with feigned rancor as he rushed to get up the ladder and chase the cheeky droid, “Get over here you little womp rat!”

  BD hopped with surprise, his beeping and wooping mimicking laughter as he skittered away for Cal to give chase, playing along with child-like enthusiasm.