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It was quiet, here in the Bogano neighborhood.
Quiet was something that Cal Kestis had come to appreciate. His life was usually the opposite of quiet, as both his job and his home life were chaotic at best. He’d always appreciated a moment of silence, but tonight, that moment was even more appreciated, even more hard-won, than it ever had been before.
A heavy sigh, made heavier still by the knowledge that the night was not quite done, escaped his lips as he finally pulled into his driveway, and parked his car. Cal’s car was the only one there; his wife, Merrin, hadn’t gotten home yet. She had texted him earlier to say she’d be home in about thirty minutes. It was after 10pm; they both should’ve been home hours ago. And they would’ve been, if not for the events that had overtaken the country’s capital city mere hours earlier.
Cal was no stranger to violence. Neither was Merrin. Both of them had grown up in homes not their own after their respective families had been killed (murdered). Both had experienced abuse in said system, and Cal had even sought refuge on the streets for a few months. Both of them were police officers of Coruscant, the Nation’s capital; Merrin for ten years and Cal for eight. He’d spent the four years preceding his entry to the police academy as a Marine with multiple deployments to the Braccah region, while Merrin had worked long hours in shady bars to make ends meet and earn money for her Criminal Justice Degree. Now, as veteran cops with years of experience under their belts, him in Anti-Crime and her in Narcotics, both husband and wife knew violence like the backs of their hands.
And yet nothing, nothing, had prepared them for the chaos and the violence they had experienced today.
A small squeak from the back seat pulled Cal from his thoughts, and he turned around to look over his shoulder. There, nestled safely in their car seats, were his and Merrin’s pride and joys: Katina, Alisa, and Ana, their four-year-old, two-year-old, and four-month-old daughters. They were sleeping peacefully, totally unaware of the chaos that had taken place today. Greez Dritus, an old family friend, had surprisingly (though with no small amount of grumbling) agreed to watch them long after their regular daycare closed. All three girls had been asleep when their exhausted father had arrived to pick them up, and Greez had taken the opportunity to quietly reassure Cal that none of the girls had seen any TV news footage of the events that had unfolded in the Core.
Cal was beyond grateful for that; he had no idea how he was going to address the topic with Katina (Alisa and Ana being far too young to comprehend anything he had to say on the matter). It was something he would have to talk to Merrin about, and soon. But first, he had to get all three children into the house.
It took two trips–Cal might’ve been strong, but even he couldn’t carry three small children plus a duffel bag into the house and up the stairs without dropping something precious. Alisa whined slightly as he carried her through the cold winter air, and Cal hastened his steps, wanting to get her inside before she woke up. He cursed softly when he fumbled with his keys, nearly dropping them into the infant car seat that was hanging off his elbow before regaining his grip and opening the door.
Cal was immediately greeted by a small missile that only just slowed to a stop before it could slam into his knees. BD-1, the family’s small mutt, skidded to a halt as the little dog remembered his training at the last possible second. His half-bark was cut short by Cal’s frantic, “Shhh! Not yet, BD.”
The dog whined, hungry for dinner and probably snuggles after being home alone all day. Alisa shifted again, beginning to stir, but quieted once Cal moved away from the door. The baby, he left in her carrier in the living room, knowing she’d be fine there until he could get the older girls settled. Thankfully, the toddler didn’t stir again when he placed her in her bed upstairs, avoiding the pile of toys they’d been in too much of a rush to pick up that morning. He planted a quick kiss on her forehead before he tiptoed back down to get his oldest daughter.
Katina slept through almost the whole thing, right up until he stumbled over a stray toy on his way to her bed. Cal immediately rubbed her back when she startled, hoping she wouldn’t wake up, but it was useless. He knew he’d failed when a very sleepy voice murmured, “Daddy, home?”
“Yeah, we’re home. Time for sleep.”
That confirmation either didn’t register, or it just didn’t work, and Cal suppressed a sigh as she lifted her head, rubbing her eyes. He was setting her down on her bed when her eyes landed on the toy he’d tripped over.
“Play police?”
Cal’s heart twinged as he thought about how much she wouldn’t want to play that if she actually knew what happened today. But he wasn’t about to go into detail about that, though, not to a four-year-old, so he pressed a kiss to her forehead and reassured her, “We can play tomorrow. But it’s time for bed right now.”
“M’kay.”
Blessedly, Katina’s late-night wake-up proved to be a minor event. Cal laid her down on her bed and she was asleep again as soon as her head hit the pillow. Ana, being a baby, proved to be far easier to move, as she was still sleeping in her parents’ room without a minefield of toys to navigate before reaching the crib. He stayed for a moment, watching her sleep, before he shook himself out of it. The girls were in bed, but he still needed to eat dinner before going to bed himself.
It was after 10pm, and there was no way in hell he was going to cook anything at this hour. Instead, Cal pulled out a small frozen pizza. It wouldn’t take long to heat, and there would be just enough to share with Merrin when she got home. There wasn’t much to do while the oven was heating, and Cal couldn’t help it as his thoughts overtook him.
Given all the press coverage from the preceding few months, and the tension that had been steadily rising ever since the November elections, Cal had known that today was not going to be an ordinary day. He had hoped against hope, however, that none of the craziness was going to involve him or his wife. The Core itself, the capital block where much of the federal government resided, wasn’t somewhere either he or Merrin would ordinarily be. His shift had started off ordinarily enough, and continued in that fashion for several hours. Cal and his Lieutenant, Cere Junda, had been pursuing a tip from an informant, utterly unrelated to anything political, when the call had come in.
Both of them had had a feeling that such a thing might happen, given the rising crowd levels they’d witnessed earlier. The fact that they had crowd control experience had only made that call more likely. So they’d responded, and arrived just as the chaos in the Core was officially declared a riot. So instead of pursuing their tip, Cal and Cere had spent the next however many hours fighting their way through the worst riot Cal had ever seen. The fact that it was happening inside the Core, on the grounds of their nation’s capital, made it so much worse. Cal was pretty sure that the beating he’d taken today was the worst one he’d had in years. Once things began to die down, and the Core was starting to clear, Cal had stayed on duty far past his original end time, helping clear the streets and then putting in several more hours, attempting to identify and arrest whichever rioters they could find.
It had been close to 9pm when Lt. Junda had finally taken pity on him. “Go home, Sergeant,” she’d ordered. “You’ve done all you can tonight. Get some rest.” Cal hadn’t even bothered to argue. He’d just nodded and headed for the showers, since he’d had far, far too many strangers screaming in, and in some cases spitting on, his face today. Then he’d done exactly what he was told to do and headed for home.
The sound of the front door opening jolted Cal from his thoughts. Merrin finally appeared, looking worse for wear.
“How are you?” Her voice sounded rough, gravelly. Cal understood why; they’d both just spent the day choking on smoke, tear gas, mace, and God only knew what else. There were a million things he could’ve said in response to her question, but he didn’t bother. He knew from experience that this was just a quick check-in, to see if there was anything that needed immediate attention.
“Okay, I think. You?”
Merrin lifted a shoulder in response. “The same, I believe. I am going to take a shower first.”
“Can’t blame you. Pizza’ll be done soon.”
Merrin nodded, then turned to go up the stairs. It was then that Cal noticed that she was limping, favoring her right leg, though it didn’t appear to be severe. They had both promised each other that they would never hide injury or illness, and Cal resolved to check on it later, once his wife had had time to wash the day off and decompress in the shower.
******
Just like her husband, Merrin Night-Kestis was no stranger to violence. As a child, she’d witnessed her family’s murders. As a teenager, she’d grown up under the abuse of an addicted foster father. As a bartender, she’d fended off rowdy drunks at some of the worst bars the city had to offer. And as a police officer for the past ten years, she’d chased down, wrestled with, and on a few occasions, been shot at by the scum of the Earth.
In short, her life had been no walk in the park. Neither had her husband’s. But unlike her husband, Merrin actually had ample experience not too dissimilar to what she’d experienced today. And it was today’s events that were bringing all of those long-buried memories back to the forefront.
Merrin could see it clearly in her mind’s eye, as if the events that orphaned her had happened only yesterday, instead of twenty-one years ago. Her hometown of Dathomir, located in Eastern Quelli, had always been a place that was fraught with danger. Resources had been scarce, and poverty was high. People had found ways to make a living, though, and continued to raise families there. Her family had been among the elite, with her mother as the long-time mayor. From a privileged 9-year-old child’s standards, they’d done their best with what they had, sharing what they could with their extended family and neighbors. But from an adult 30-year-old police officer’s perspective, though, Merrin knew they’d made mistakes. Considered themselves above the people they’d lived among. And most critically, they’d made allegiances they should never have made.
And that was what had gotten them killed.
Merrin would never forget the terror of the night she was woken by her oldest sister, and dragged down the darkened hallway of their family’s house. Screams had sounded from outside, complete with the echoes of gunfire, objects being swung against and connecting with bare flesh, and the gurgling sounds of death. The figures outside, not native to their town, had come to do battle with, and get their revenge against, the ones they thought had double-crossed them. Merrin’s family, along with several others, had been the primary targets. The defenses mounted by the ones closest to her family had not saved them; instead, those people had been overrun by hulking, merciless, brutal figures who had massed far more strength and numbers than the stunned protectors had ever planned on having to counter.
Of her household–which comprised her mother, grandmother, and four sisters–Merrin had been the only survivor. Others had died that night as well–sixteen neighbors, including several of her aunts, uncles and cousins. But it was the terror that accompanied the intruders tearing through her house that would stalk the young girl’s nightmares for years to come.
And the brutality she’d seen unleashed in the Core today, despite less gunfire and fewer deaths, was bringing all of that right back to the forefront. That crowd, she was absolutely certain, had been determined to carry out the same act, a takeover that had actually succeeded and that had left her orphaned at the age of nine. It was only by the skin of their teeth that they’d averted disaster.
Her chest tightened abominably, and Merrin did not even bother to fight it. She didn’t have the energy to do so. In the privacy of the shower, she finally allowed herself to let go. She didn’t allow herself to scream out loud, to avoid waking the children who had no part in this. But they came quietly, causing her shoulders to shake as tears rolled down her face.
Time passed. Merrin had no idea how much. Eventually, her tear ducts ran dry, right around the time that the water temperature began to drop. So she washed her face, turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. Drying her hair took only a few minutes, then she changed into the warmest pajamas she owned before finally emerging from the bathroom, feeling much cleaner but only a tad less vulnerable than she had been when she first went into it.
The master bedroom was mostly quiet, with the silence disturbed only by the faint sounds of her daughter’s rhythmic breathing. Merrin peeked into the crib; Ana was still sound asleep. The baby had eaten right before coming home, so Merrin felt only slightly guilty about the adult beverage she already planned to consume with dinner. She had frozen enough breastmilk that pumping and dumping for the next feeding would not be a problem, and that was exactly what she planned to do.
The delicious aroma of a hot, if not entirely home-cooked, meal wafted up, and drew Merrin out of the bedroom, towards the stairs. She stopped, though, at the door to her older girls’ shared room. She knew that both Katina and Alisa were asleep within, but she couldn’t resist. The door creaked slightly as she opened it, but it made no difference. Both girls were soundly asleep, unaware of their mother’s approach, and of the events that preceded it. Merrin envied them for their innocence…but she also despaired for them. She knew what it was like to grow up knowing fear, and she was afraid that that was a problem they were going to inherit.
She didn’t want that. They were her children, they were innocent, and she didn’t want that.
But, there was nothing that could be done about that, hovering over them as they slept safely in their beds. So Merrin departed silently, the door creaking once more as she shut it again. Dinner was likely ready, and Cal was waiting for her.
******
The pizza was ready, and Cal was famished. He didn’t think he’d eaten anything since breakfast that morning. The small pizza was divided up between two plates–there wouldn’t be any leftovers tonight. He also grabbed a large bottle of beer to split between them, because why the hell not? Today, they had more than earned it. The last things he grabbed were two bottles of water because they busted their asses today and they didn’t need to add dehydration to their existing aches and pains. With food, beer, and water in hand, Cal bypassed the dining room table and headed straight for the living room couch. Pizza was something to be eaten in comfort, especially tonight.
Merrin finally appeared as he was bringing in drinking glasses, having forgotten them on his first trip to the couch. She frowned. He was favoring his left wrist, the one he shattered during a deployment as a Marine, and that still gave him grief even years later. He’d donned the brace he used whenever the old injury flared. She hoped he hadn’t reinjured it, but she couldn’t exactly blame him for pushing it in the midst of an insurrection.
Cal looked up at that moment and saw where she was directing her attention–at his aching wrist. He promised her, “Don’t worry, it’s minor, just sore.”
“You are certain?”
He nodded. “I’ll get it checked out if it’s not fine in the next day or so. What about you? I saw you were limping earlier.”
Merrin glanced down, for all that she wouldn’t be able to see the massive bruises on her thigh. “I was struck repeatedly with a barrier. It is just a bruise, with no real damage.”
Her husband nodded, looking relieved as he settled down on the couch and popped the cap on the beer, pouring it into the two glasses he’d been carrying. Merrin moved to join him, and Cal readily repositioned himself so they could curl up together without aggravating their injuries. They were both more battered and bruised than they’d been in years. Cal had been knocked down and stomped repeatedly, as well as taken an untold number of kicks and punches; Merrin had been battered with the barricades she’d been trying to hold up, and left with burns and abrasions under her chin from one of the rioters attempting to rip her helmet off her head. Both had been hit with bear-spray more than once; really, it was a miracle that the worst injuries they’d suffered were relatively minor cuts and bruises.
Their first few minutes were spent without conversation, as they focused instead on nourishing their bodies and simply enjoying each other’s presence–something they had feared at times that they would never get to do again.
“Where were you?”
The question startled Cal, pulling him from his thoughts. The sarcastic part of him, the part that was so, so angry over the day’s events, wanted to respond, “The Core, same as you,” but he shut that down. There was no need to take it out on his wife, who had been through hell just like he had been, even if they hadn’t been able to stay side-by-side. They hadn’t even seen each other since he left for work that morning. So instead, Cal just answered the question.
“I started out fighting my way through the front steps, to help with the skirmish line. Not sure how long I was there. Headed inside when we lost the line, then I ended up in a corridor holding…I don’t know how many thousands of people out, with maybe 20 of us in total. At some point I got pulled out and into the rotunda, trying to push out rioters there. Think I was there until the guard units arrived, we cleared the grounds, then I stayed behind. Figured maybe I could ID and arrest whoever was left, but didn’t get too far with that. You?”
Merrin bit her lip, then immediately regretted it. She’d forgotten she had a cut there–she honestly wasn’t sure what had caused it, but it hadn’t been there this morning. She was reasonably certain it was a man’s fist, but it could just as easily have been someone’s elbow, their foot, a pole, or any number of other weapons the insurrectionists had armed themselves with–hell, they’d even turned her own bike against her at one point. Her brow furrowed in thought, attempting to cast out the most negative memories while searching back to see where she’d actually spent her day in hell.
“Our primary job was to ‘provide security’ and watch the crowd for signs of violence at Palpatine’s speech.” Merrin didn’t even bother to hide her disgust, lips curling around the man’s name and spitting it out like a curse. Cal agreed; Satan incarnate was what that man was. “And were only called to the Core itself after the crowd began to move. We were called as back-up once the violence began, near one of the Eastern walkways. We too were part of a line that eventually collapsed and were enveloped by the crowd. I do not know how many hours I spent pulling officers who had been dragged away by these people, back to safety. We were inside at one point, but were called away back outside to block another of the entrances. I am not certain of how long I was there, but I was there when the National Guard arrived. My unit retrieved our bikes–the ones that had not been stolen or destroyed–and assisted with perimeter control once the ground were clear.”
“I knew I saw some of the bike unit in the crowd at one point,” Cal mused. His heart twisted at the danger Merrin had faced, surrounded on all sides by enemies at some points, and simultaneously warmed with pride at the actions she had undertaken to ensure the safety of their comrades. “I guess that was you?”
“Possibly. I do not know how many other bike units were present, if any at all.” Merrin drew her knees up to her chest, pizza temporarily forgotten as she tried very hard not to look like a frightened child attempting to hide away in a corner. “I know that there were many other officers there, but there were points when I could barely see any of them. In comparison to the size of the crowd…there were times when I felt very alone.”
Cal swallowed. He knew what it was like to be alone, and he had never, ever wanted his wife to feel that way again. And he couldn’t help but agree with her. “I heard one of the guys saying he thought there were at least 20,000 people out there. There were probably more. I know it sounds stupid to say it now, but I never thought any of this would happen here.”
Merrin huffed derisively. “I too was in denial. I should not have been, given that I have heard of Palpatine referring to himself as ‘Emperor’ on more than one occasion. I suppose it was only a matter of time before something more serious than ordinary protests happened. Even so, I thought the violence we would face would be on the streets, not within the Core itself. There were so many.”
And based on all the news reports that had inundated them over the past four years, there were more still–this was a large country, after all, and not all of Palpatine’s supporters had come to the Capitol. That thought was even more terrifying because…
“What we did today…it was the job of the military. We did a job meant for soldiers in battle. But we are not soldiers.”
At that, Cal huffed, showing her a slightly crooked grin. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Speak for yourself–Marine here! Well, former, anyway.” He sobered again, very quickly. “Can’t say I ever faced those odds on the battlefield though. Insurrectionists, yeah, but…not like that.”
Merrin’s heart skipped a beat. Her husband’s deployments had been a source of stress for her, even when he’d been safely tucked away in bed at a base somewhere, while she’d been out facing her own danger on the streets of this very city. She reached for his left hand, partially encased in the black brace that supported his once-shattered wrist, along with the pins, screws, rods, and plates that had been used to put it back together. Cal had made a full recovery, but the marks would always be there, as well as all over the rest of his body. Merrin cast her eyes up to his face, drinking in the sight of his handsome features, which also carried the scars of his time in the military. The divot in his lower lip, the tiny groove in his right eyebrow, and of course, the longer, deeper lines that slashed across his nose, over his right cheek, and down the right side of his neck, terrifyingly close to his jugular and carotid. All from shrapnel thrown by an explosion which Cal had only just survived (and others had not). The scars weren’t so prominent as to be terrifying to the children he encountered on the job, but they were there. And they were part of the reason his earlier grin had been a little crooked; a full smile was one of the few things Cal could not manage, not with the way the scar tissue tugged uncomfortably at his features, and the accompanying nerve damage underneath.
And Merrin, foolishly, had thought that her husband would never face that kind of danger again, even working the streets of this city. Unfortunately, she had been wrong.
Cal cleared his throat; he recognized her actions and the look on his wife’s face. “Hey,” he called softly, using his right hand to cup her cheek and draw her attention back to the present. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”
“But my family–my first family–is not.”
At that, Cal frowned. He wasn’t sure of the connection. “Huh?”
Merrin took a deep breath, another bite of her rapidly-cooling pizza, and another sip of beer, before she continued. “The sounds the other officers made when they were dragged into the crowd…the sounds the crowd made when they dragged someone away, and everything I saw…I heard and saw similar things the night my village was overrun and my family, killed. I was afraid I would see those things again today.”
And with that, Cal’s heart broke. He hadn’t even thought of it, but that completely made sense. Merrin’s childhood had been destroyed by a crowd not too dissimilar to the one they’d faced today. His own world had been ripped apart by the thugs that killed his own father right in front of him. Those people? Those people had succeeded. But these ones? This crowd had failed. And today, that failure had been a good thing.
Suddenly, and without warning, Cal leaned forward and pulled his partner into a hug, bruises be damned; they both needed it. “It didn’t work,” he whispered fiercely, and felt more than heard Merrin repeating after him. “It didn’t work, they failed, and now people know about how bad they can get. The country’s not gonna forget this, things are gonna change.”
“These people will not change quickly.” Merrin knew this to be an absolute fact. Still, Cal’s actions had the desired effect, and she felt something settle in her. Today had gone differently; they had actually won. And on a day like this, that win had counted for something more than she suspected she or her husband would ever fully understand. They had won, and their home and their country and the people they cared about were still standing, or at the very least still alive. “But you are right. Things will change.”
With that, she leaned forward to capture her husband’s lips in her own. Pizza and drinks be damned, the kids were asleep, and mom and dad had been through hell today. Cal was momentarily startled, then he too surrendered to the emotions of the moment, though he was careful of the cut on her lip. There was no rush–the movies would’ve had one believing that their near-death encounters and subsequent victory were supposed to be celebrated with a frantic coupling, as part of a desire to remind themselves that they were still alive, but nothing could be further from the truth. This was something meant to be savored.
And savor it, they did, up until the moment they couldn’t. Merrin pulled back as a yawn fought its way past her defenses, just as Cal did the same with a groan as one of his many bruises flared with pain. They looked at each other again, sheepish smiles gracing their faces.
“Later?” Merrin asked. It was more of a demand than a question.
“Later.” Cal agreed. And that was a promise.
With that, they finished off their pizza, downed their drinks, and took everything into back into the kitchen. With how exhausted they were, clean-up would have to wait until morning, and neither of them cared as they turned off the downstairs lights and trudged up the stairs, bodies aching all the way. The act of getting ready for bed was largely a silent affair, each partner happy just to be in the presence of the other as Cal changed and they both brushed their teeth before they finally, finally, turned off the bedroom lights and collapsed into bed. Ana would wake up for her night feed in less than three hours, and the older children would doubtless wake them both up again before 6am. They needed to squeeze in their sleep while they still could.
As they curled around each other as much as they comfortably could, both Cal and Merrin knew that this peaceful reprieve would not last. The nightmares of everything they’d faced that day would come, that was guaranteed, but tonight, their exhaustion won out, and each drifted off, tucked safely into their soulmate’s arms.