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Despite being a desert moon, Jedha is freezing all the time, which Layla had not been expecting the first time she had stepped out of her ship onto the planet’s surface. It’s been six months since then, and every time she’s come back it’s been just as much of a shock — and yet she still finds herself coming back again and again.
Of course, that’s mostly thanks to Marc. Or more specifically, Khonshu demanding that Marc keep coming back. The skeletal avian creature keeps promising just one more contract, and then the bounty hunter will be free, but there’s always something else, and Marc is bound until Khonshu decides to withdraw whatever hold he has on his already-fractured mind.
Layla still feels uneasy around the alien — ever since their first meeting when she had sensed the way the very air around him was almost stained with the dark side, she hasn’t trusted him. She trusts Marc, and Steven, and even Jake now that she’s met him a few more times, but not their…employer. Anyone who uses the dark side to indenture people can’t be trusted, no matter how “beneficial” the work they send them to do is.
And it’s true that Marc’s work is generally for good, it’s why Layla joined him on his travels in the first place. Taking down Imperial cells across the galaxy — especially those operating their own further very illegal and unethical programs within — is what she had already been doing herself, as a way to honour all of her fellow Jedi that had given their lives trying to do the same before the purge took them away.
It’s nice to have someone else to fight alongside again, even if his employer is an untrustworthy bird creature who fell off the Jedi path centuries ago and has been using the dark side to bring people back from near-death and force them to serve him as his own personal bounty hunters until he feels like letting them go.
It’s not like that’s Marc’s fault.
In any case, Layla doesn’t mind coming back to Jedha regularly. It’s one of the few places in the galaxy she feels truly safe as a Jedi these days, and the hum of the Force through her veins when she’s here is always a source of comfort.
She’s trying to focus on it now, sitting on the floor of the small, draughty room she and Marc are staying in this time, but the cold nips at her even through her layers of clothes and makes it hard to keep her mind fixed on her meditation. It’s been hard enough to meditate since Master Taweret was killed — though Layla had been a fully-fledged Jedi Knight for several years before the purge, the loss of her old master had left a hole in her heart that she’s still not sure will ever fully heal, and reaching out with the Force had been almost impossible for weeks after Taweret’s death. She’s still getting used to it now, though it’s been nearly three years.
People always spoke of how hard it could be to reconnect to the Force after the loss of their master, but nothing could have ever prepared her for how hard it would be after the loss of her entire Order. Not only is Taweret gone, but so is anyone else who could have helped her through this.
And then there’s the Marc issue.
Her whole life, Layla had been taught detachment. Never letting her feelings compromise her work as a Jedi. Loving people and being compassionate but never allowing deep attachment to one person to occur. Even her very familial-like relationship with Taweret was on a knife’s edge of being too attached in the Council’s view, which was partly why she had been pushed through her Trials at only nineteen. And romance was absolutely off the cards.
Now though…the Order is gone, and Marc is here. Marc, and Steven, and Jake. But mostly Marc.
Layla’s been drawn to him from the first moment they had crossed paths, and it seems fateful to her that they’ve stayed together this long since then. The Force drew her to him, she’s sure of it, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t still conflict in her mind about it.
She loves him, she has for some time now. She hasn’t admitted it out loud, but she senses that he knows, and it’s clear that he feels the same too. And although she’s made her peace with it, it’s something she’s still unsure of navigating, something that brings…not fear, per se, but an uncertainty that she’s not used to.
The Jedi had tried to keep everything so black and white. Light side and dark side. Since the fall of the Order she’s seen so many ways that it can co-exist and intersect — like in Khonshu even, someone who is so far into the dark side the Jedi would have written him off a long time ago if they’d known he was still alive, and yet he wants the Empire gone as much as anyone Layla would see as more typically light would. Granted, he has very questionable ways of going about his work, and she’s certain it’s more out of self-interest than the greater good, but…he’s still helping, in some strange way.
Layla’s grown less afraid of her feelings in the past months. She knows she’s doing work that the Jedi would be proud of, even if she’s not necessarily doing it the way they would’ve wanted her to. She’s confident, not afraid of igniting her lightsabers and fighting in the name of peace and justice; and not afraid of admitting, at least to herself, that her feelings for Marc are there.
That doesn’t make it any easier to act on them, although her own hesitation is starting to drive her mad. It’s like she just can’t shake the hands of the Council on her shoulders, warning her that acting on her feelings could be a path to the dark side. She knows it won’t be — if losing Master Taweret taught her anything it’s that love has only made her more determined to stay on the path of the light, but…maybe it’s just that this kind of love feels like a violation of rules she’d been directly instructed not to break.
“You’re thinking so loud,” Marc comments from the doorway, where Layla knows he’s been standing for at least a few minutes, “I thought meditating was supposed to stop the thoughts.”
“It’s supposed to clear the mind,” She corrects, not opening her eyes, “But I can’t concentrate when it’s so cold.”
He finally moves toward the makeshift bed they’d set up in the corner when they’d arrived — it’s his turn to sleep on the floor, and thankfully he’s not complained as much as usual this time — and plops down on the pillows. He’s quiet for long enough that Layla finally gives up and peeps open one eye, enough to catch him staring at her.
She sighs and leans back to lay on the cold floor before she can think better of it, and a shiver runs up her spine immediately, “Alright, I give up. How long has it been anyway?”
Marc shrugs and holds up a tracking fob before just as quickly tossing it into his bag. “Long enough to debrief the bird and get my next job. We can go in a few days. Steven wants to get some supplies from the markets, which probably means he wants new clothes—”
His gaze shifts towards the window for a moment, where Layla can sense Steven’s presence and almost picture his indignant expression, “Yeah, I’m onto you, no more ponchos…” Marc shakes his head, “Fine, but it better not be on me when I come in, ever. Anyway,” He glances back at her, “I think we’re all overdue for a good sleep. So…let’s do that first.”
Layla stands up and stretches out her stiff limbs — sitting down for that long really doesn’t do wonders for the joints, she thinks. “Good idea. Meditation is rest, in a way, but it’s still…taxing on the mind and spirit.”
“Again, thought the point was to clear the mind.” Marc imitates her with a half-smile, to which she shoots him a withering stare as she sheds her outer layers of clothing and climbs into the bed, “Sorry. Yeah, you get this look when you’ve been meditating, like you’re awake but you’re not really there again until you’ve slept. I do notice things sometimes.”
She purses her lips at him, fighting the heat rising to her cheeks at the notion of being so known by someone. By Marc. “So you do.” She muses and drops her head to the pillow, “Good night.”
“Sleep well.”
Layla tries, she really does, but it’s so cold. There’s several blankets piled on top of her and she’s still shivering despite her best efforts to stay perfectly still in the spot she’s already warmed with her own body heat. Thoughts of warmer planets swirl in her mind, of deserts with actual desert heat, or jungle planets with humidity that makes her hair frizz up something terrible but at least keeps her cocooned in warmth and relative comfort — at least compared to the bone-biting chill of Jedha.
It’s probably been twenty minutes by the time Marc speaks up again from his spot on the floor.
“Layla, I can hear you shivering.”
“I’m fine.”
Layla hears the telltale rustle of blankets and knows that Marc is standing, staring. She pointedly keeps her own gaze fixed on the ceiling. A beat longer, and another pile of blankets is dropped on top of her, on which she can faintly smell Marc’s familiar metallic, smoky scent. The man himself is still standing beside the bed, so she finally turns her gaze towards him. Even in the dark she can see how earnestly he’s looking at her, and it makes her heart leap up into her throat. Neither of them say a word.
Layla is a little shaky as she lifts up the covers in silent invitation, never mind the cold air it lets into the bed with her, if only for a brief moment. Any hesitation she had been dwelling on before is gone, throwing caution to the wind and deciding for once in her life to follow her heart. Stars, the Council would be so disappointed in her. But it’s now or never.
Marc nods, wasting no time slipping in beside her and pulling the blankets tight around them both. Layla finds herself drawing close to his warmth immediately, curling an arm around his waist as his own hand presses tentatively into the centre of her back. They’re chest to chest, sharing the same breath in the almost nonexistent gap between them, and it’s so warm.
Layla can sense his nerves — although she doesn’t need the Force to tell her that, with the rabbiting of his heartbeat thrumming through her so clearly she might’ve thought he’d pressed his own heart right into her chest in silent offering. It’s clear that their unspoken line has been crossed, they’ve gone beyond the threshold without even having to say out loud, “Come in.”
She reaches up with her other hand to trace her fingers over his cheekbone, and he lets out a long breath as he leans into her gentle touch.
“How long have you—” He starts hoarsely.
“Since the beginning,” She breathes, “Always.”
Marc leans in to press his forehead against hers, bumps their noses together with a quiet, disbelieving laugh, “The whole time. I was thinking this whole time that I was the galaxy’s biggest idiot, falling for…well, anyone really, but especially a Jedi who wouldn’t love me back. Hell, even Steven’s been telling me that. He’s…sort of in on this too, but it’s not like he would’ve done this, right? Honestly, I’m surprised I did it.”
Layla smiles warmly, presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I’m glad you did. I’ve been trying to work up the strength to tell you for so long, but you know it’s…complicated, with the lessons I had drilled into me by the Council for so long. But,” She punctuates with another soft kiss to his dimple, “This Jedi does love you back.”
His exhale is shaky, but he tilts his head to catch her lips with his own, and oh, Layla is well and truly done for. His hand is strong on her back, his mouth soft and warm and tasting vaguely minty — she never wants to taste anything else if she can help it — and all too soon he’s drawing back, though now his other hand is cupping her cheek just as she’s doing to him. She wonders vaguely if he can feel her blush under his fingertips, just as she can feel his.
“You’ve stopped shivering.” Marc points out, but pulls her closer all the same.
She huffs out a laugh, “You’re warm.”
He sneaks another kiss before replying, “No more cold nights for you, hm? You let me in once and you’re probably not gonna get rid of me, or Steven when he finds out, just so you know.”
“I can live with that.” She smiles, “You’re all good company.”
Marc’s expression mirrors Layla’s, and it’s a while longer trading kisses and whispered stories of their many realisations of love for each other before they finally start dozing off, clinging to each other like they never want to be separated again. The galaxy is a tough place, and there’s still so much fighting to be done for the Jedi and bounty hunter pair before all this will truly get easier. But for now?
Layla is warm in Marc’s embrace. And that’s enough for her.