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The last thing Nursey’s Mama gives him before he leaves home to join the Resistance effort is a small, simple charm, golden and leaf-shaped, that he wears on a cord around his neck. It had been his mother’s for ages, gifted to her by Nursey’s Mom when they first fell in love. When Mama presses it warmly into Nursey’s palm, using her own fingers to curl his in around it, she tells him, Pass it on, Derek. You’ll know when it’s time.
But in the handful of years it’s been since he joined up, that time hasn’t come. And, honestly, Nursey’s starting to worry that it’ll never come at all. He doesn’t even feel validated in his anxiety, knows that almost everything is more important than finding the supposed love of his life. They’re in a war. He can’t spare one second dwelling on stupid things that’ll distract him.
It’s not like he gets no action at all - quite the opposite, Nursey’s a horny bastard, don’t you know. But those other lifeforms, he’s not connected to them in any way whatsoever. They’re fun flings, one-night stands, a fuck or two, but Nursey’s never had that Moment like you read about in his Mama’s cheesy romance novelettes; the Moment where you lock eyes with someone across the room and you suddenly realize, whoa. Wait. Hold on…
Shit like that is purely fictional. Nursey loves his poetry, but even he finds the romance verses tiring. How is he supposed to relate, when he’s never been in love before his whole life long?
Besides, the point’s definitely moot now. Captured by First Order troopers, dragged to their base bloody and beaten and slurring colorful curses all the way. His mission may have been a success, but he’s bound to pay the price for it.
Yeah, Nursey’s pretty sure he’s going to die. He thinks of his parents; he thinks of his home planet; he thinks of the cold little leaf around his neck that’ll no doubt be buried with him - if there’s even anything left to bury.
God, and the First Order bros are such dicks, seriously. All their douchey haircuts and weird, garbled vernacular - what the fuck does Five on the beef mean, anyway? Nothing? Meaningless? Just like Nursey’s entire existence up to this point?
He’s not exactly in a great place right now, in case you couldn’t tell. He’s just starting to wonder whether or not he remembered to sew his suicide pills into the lining of his jacket, when Interchangeable Stormtrooper #3546473 steps into his cell.
Though maybe not so interchangeable. This soldier’s got blood hand-printed onto their helmet, a likely remnant of some poor helpless child or old man they slaughtered in the name of “peace.”
“Taking me to be executed by firing squad?” Nursey asks dully. His head is throbbing louder than a bantha’s roar. “At least tell me it’ll be quick.”
Strangely, the trooper says nothing. They hesitate, long enough that Nursey’s about to open his mouth and shoot some other snarky bullshit remark at them, when -
The Stormtrooper removes his helmet, and suddenly all Nursey can see is an ocean of molten gold, guarded, warm. He’s about Nursey’s age, freckled in the face, slightly awkward in the large ears. His red hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, lank, and Nursey is struck with the realization that there is, in fact, a real, living, breathing person under the cold, white mask.
“I can get you out of here,” the Stormtrooper says. His voice is hard, but not as hard as Nursey would have assumed it to be. “I help you, you help me.”
Nursey scoffs. “ Chyeah. And this ends with my dead body and you getting a promotion, right?”
The Stormtrooper’s eyes widen. “What? No, I - “ He swallows, hard. Nursey watches his pale, spotted throat bob with the notion. “I want to join the Resistance. I’m serious. If I stay here another minute, I’ll - I don’t know what the hell I’ll do, but it won’t be good.”
Nursey narrows his eyes, studying the situation as cautiously as he can. Careful, careful, this is life and death, Nurse, don’t you get it?
And fuck. Fuck, he believes him. This stupid goddamn Stormtrooper is telling the truth, and they both know it.
“Ok,” says Nursey, feeling very much like he’s signing his own death warrant. “Ok, let’s go.”
The outer hangar is crawling with First Order bros. Nursey can feel their eyes on him, the hatred, the dirty looks. He’s so cottonmouthed, he can barely feel his own tongue. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to do any talking. His Stormtrooper waves off every underling with a jerk of his head, stiffly speaks his way through imaginary protocol that he’s definitely pulling out of his ass. Doesn’t matter, though, ‘cause it seems like it’s working just fine.
Nursey blinks, and they’re in the cockpit of a TIE fighter. He’s never actually flown one of these before, but the controls seem simple enough, and he plops himself heavily into the captain’s seat. The space is snug, barely enough room for the two of them; it’ll have to do.
“Ok,” Nursey says. “Now what?”
Stormtrooper guy has removed his helmet again. In the close quarters, Nursey can see his eyes glint in the flickering lights of the motherboard. He raises an eyebrow at Nursey, skeptical, and Nursey decides that he hates this guy, like so much.
But beggars can’t be choosers.
“You’re a pilot, right?” Stormtrooper guy gestures stiffly to the controls. “Fly us out of here.”
“Easier said than done,” Nursey grumbles. “We’re totally surrounded, dude.”
“It’s fine.” Stormtrooper guy looks a lot more determined than Nursey currently feels. “I’ll man the guns. This’ll work, trust me.”
The really annoying thing is that it does work, at least up to a certain point. They’re zipping through space as fast as they can, Nursey’s palms sweating slick on the steer while Stormtrooper guy blasts away at his former comrades with a rigidity Nursey’s never really seen before. Despite that, though, the guy seems… happy. Poor bastard’s been a brainwashed killing machine all his life; this is probably the most fun he’s ever had.
“Did you see that?!” he shouts as he hits three enemy ships in quick succession, and Nursey, who really shouldn’t get distracted right now but who also can’t help himself, whoops like a maniac.
“I saw that, buddy!” he yells back, grinning ear-to-ear. “Good fuckin’ job!” He’s then struck with the realization that buddy is kind of a weird thing to call some First Order bro he’s only just met, so. “Hey, you got a name?”
Pew. “A name?” Pew pew pew. “Uh. Well, my call sign is DX-2411. That’s the only name they ever gave me.”
Something underneath the skin of Nursey’s chest sort of twinges. “What? Your parents didn’t have a name for you?”
Pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew. “I never knew my parents.” Pew. Pew. Pew. “I’ve been a Stormtrooper my entire life.”
Now Nursey just feels like the biggest tool this side of the galaxy. Desperate to make up for it, he says, “I’m sorry, man, let me - oh, shit, hold on tight for another barrel roll - fuck, that was close, ok - what did you say your number was? DX-something?”
“DX-2411,” he replies, quite curtly. Nursey can’t really see him unless he turns around in his seat, but he’s about 110% sure that the dude’s jaw is clenched tighter than a vice right now.
“DX,” Nursey muses. “I’m gonna call you Dex. That all good with you?”
“Dex?” He tests the name out on his tongue, murmurs it so softly that Nursey can hardly hear it over the chaotic din around them. “ Dex. Dex.” And then, “...Yeah. Yeah, I like that!”
Nursey beams. “Fuck yeah, keep on shootin’, Dexy!” They’re coming up on Jakku - Nursey never thought he’d be so grateful to see this dump again, but it’s funny how things work out. “I’m Derek Nurse. Nursey. It’s nice to officially meet you, Dex.”
And just like that, the last layer cracks wide open. “You too, Nurse.” Nursey can hear the smile in Dex’s voice. “This is incredible. Fuck! ”
They’re still kind of sitting ducks, but for the first time in days, Nursey can feel the tension in his shoulders beginning to loosen. “I’m gonna jump to hyperspace,” he calls back, dipping slightly into Jakku’s atmosphere so he might use its orbit to slingshot them a little. “When we make it back to base, I can introduce you to all the - “
“Nursey!” Dex frantically cuts him off, panic rising in his voice, and Nursey twists around in his seat, every alarm bell going off in his head at once, and then - WHAM!
When Nursey next opens his eyes, his jacket is gone, his mouth is full of sand, there’s a gash on his forehead that’s dripping dark blood down into his squinting eyes, and Dex is nowhere to be found.
He makes it back to the Resistance base - eventually - and Nursey’s always thought of himself as someone that’s good at keeping his emotions under wraps, but the General sees right through him in an instant.
“What happened?” she asks him in her office, eyes crinkled with worry and weariness. “What did they do to you?”
So then it all kind of goes… spilling out of him. His capture, the torture he endured - which, to be honest, kind of pales in comparison to him now in regards to what had happened with Dex - everything else.
“He was a good person, I could tell, ” Nursey says. He reaches up to fiddle with his cord, remembers with a lurching wrench in his gut that he lost it to the swirling sands of Jakku. “He wanted to join the Resistance. He was serious about it. And I…” He swallows, hard, not meeting Alicia’s eyes. “I failed him.”
“Derek, no.” Her palm slides over the back of his hand. Warm. Not as warm as his mothers’ would be. “You did the best you could. You gave that boy freedom. Even if it was the last few moments of his life, you gave him something to smile about. Some way to die at least a little happier than he lived.”
But all Nursey can do is grimace. “Yeah,” he mutters, more to himself than to the General. “I really hope you’re right about that.”
“Holy shit! ”
Dex is there, striding across the runway, jogging over to Nursey as fast as it seems that he can. Nursey barely says anything, kind of stumbles off the side of his X-Wing, lands a little funky on his ankle but it doesn’t fucking matter. This isn’t real, is it, it can’t be, but he’s holding Dex in his arms for the first time in his life and Dex is solid and breathing and alive.
“What the fuck, dude, I thought you were dead, ” Nursey croaks, leaning back and bracing his arms on Dex’s shoulders because it feels like his legs have liquidated themselves completely. “You - You look really good, man, I mean it.”
He does. His short-cropped hair’s grown out a bit more, curling a little over his large ears in fiery tufts. More than that, he just looks better, in the eyes, in the mouth, even in his posture. The man standing before Nursey is no longer a Stormtrooper, if he ever was one at all. He looks, in all honesty, a lot like some sort of old Rebel hero from the time of the Jedi.
Dex rolls his eyes, but the grin doesn’t quite leave his face. “Ditching the fascists really does wonders for your skin,” he cracks. “Come on, keep it chill, Nursey.”
“I’m always chill,” says Nursey distractedly. ‘I’m always - wait, is this - is this my jacket?”
Dex flushes, the tips of his ears turning pinker than a sunset and just as pretty. “Oh, uh - yeah. After we got separated, I sort of ended up with it. I couldn’t just leave it there, so…” He shrinks in on himself, starting to take the jacket off. “Here, you should take it back. It’s yours.”
“NO,” Nursey blurts, way too loudly, but. “No, you - you should keep it.” He watches the way the material hugs Dex’s arms, the tight shirt stretching across his chest. He swallows. Dry. “It suits you.”
Dex hesitates, but when Nursey locks eyes with him, he slowly pulls the jacket back on again. “Thanks,” he says quietly. “No one’s ever given me something before.” He straightens up, seeming to remember something. “Oh, hold on. I’ve also got - here.”
He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, and presses something cool and familiar into Nursey’s palm.
“My Mama’s charm,” he says, slightly dumbfounded. “I…didn’t think… Shit. Shit. Thank you, Dex.” He tries his best to ignore the lump in his throat, tries his best to blink the tears off his lashes. “Thank you so much.”
Dex shrugs. Sheepish. “Small price to repay, for what you did for me.”
And gradually, Nursey gets the idea that maybe Dex should keep the necklace, too.
Jack Zimmermann may only be a little bit older than Nursey, but he’s the only Jedi Master left in the galaxy and has also been in hiding for way too long. When they find him, so Chowder can return his old lightsaber and beg for training, Zimmermann looks nothing like the fearsome warrior Nursey’s seen in all the holograms. His eyes seem kinder, somehow, and his only companion is a friendly, slightly fuzzy little humanoid named Bitty that bakes the best pie Nursey’s ever tasted in his life. Maybe it’s better, that Jack doesn’t fight anymore, but he reluctantly agrees to help Chowder, and he casts one look at Dex and says,
“You too?”
Dex blinks. He glances over to Nursey for help, but Nursey can only shrug back at him. “Um…To train? I - I don’t think so. Sir,” he adds hastily.
Jack shakes his head. “The Force is strong within you,” he replies. “Almost as strong as it is in your Twi’lek friend here.”
Dex looks absolutely stunned. Harriedly, wanting to distract Dex from his impending mental crisis, Nursey asks, “I’m just a regular fighter pilot, though, right? No freaky Force stuff going on here?”
Again, Jack shakes his head. “Come on,” he says to Dex, to Chowder. “We start now.”
And so it happens that the five of them all stay together on the abandoned island planet, for a while, as two Padawans are trained by one Jedi Master. Nursey watches, most days, as they work. Sometimes Dex takes off his shirt to spar, which is always nice. But if Nursey stares too long, he feels like a total creep, so he spends a lot of time in the kitchen unit with Bitty, helping tend to the lush garden Jack Zimmermann has grown in his retirement.
One night, Bitty breaks out a big dusty bottle of aged Mustafarian fire-water, and after taking turns spinning about the room a bit in drunken, dancing circles, Chow passes out on the carpet, teal lekku twitching slightly in his deep sleep. Jack and Bitty head into their fresher, and because he kind of gets the sense the pair would like some privacy, Nursey steps out to climb up on the roof for some fresh air.
He doesn’t expect Dex to join him. Stumbling over his own two feet, managing a clumsy Force boost to get him the extra inch up. Nursey still has to catch him by the wrist, yank him the rest of the way onto the roof. In the system’s deep azure moonlight, Dex’s flushed face appears purple.
“M’ drunk,” he says, stating the obvious, and laughs. “How are you not drunk right now?”
“I am.” Nursey shuts his eyes for a moment, breathes in deep. “I’m just not wasted enough to warrant a Nursey Patrol.”
“The fuck is Nursey Patrol? ”
“A story for another time, my friend.” Nursey glances over at Dex’s lanky form. There are so many things he wishes he could say. So many things he wishes he could do. But Dex is so far gone right now, and it wouldn’t be fair. To either of them, really.
So instead, he pitches a question that’s been on his mind quite a lot recently. “Yo, Dex.”
“Hmm?”
“Is…” Nursey chews at his lip, ruminating over the right words to say. “You like your name. Right? Dex? You think it fits you?”
Dex blinks a few times, foggy around the eyes. “What’re you talkin’ about?”
“I mean, I named you. Looking back on it, I realize that wasn’t really my place. Like, it’s your name.” Shit, he needs more fire-water, but. “ You should decide what you want to be called, not some random dude you don’t even know.”
“I do know you,” says Dex bluntly, and hiccups slightly. “I know you.”
Nursey nods. “Ok.”
“I actually have kinda thought about names,” Dex lists, looking off a little ways into the drunken middle distance. “Here ‘n there, you know. Researching humanoid names like that. Like yours.”
“Ok,” Nursey repeats. “Ok, dude, that’s awesome. Any you gravitate towards? That you vibe with?”
“I think I sorta like William. Will. ‘S’pretty common, I know. But…I just like it.”
Nursey swallows. His throat’s drier than he’d like for it to be. Below them, he can hear slow, romantic music, drifting waltz-like from out of Jack and Bitty’s fresher. “I - I like it, too. It suits you. Will.” He grins, testing the sound on his tongue. “Yeah. William. My best friend, Will.”
Dex’s shoulder knocks against his. Burns, a bit like a brand, but then why does Nursey lean closer instead of away? “Yeah. My best friend, Derek.”
Nursey snorts, because Dex never calls him Derek. “So I’ll call you Will, from now on. Yeah? No more Dex.”
Strangely, Will frowns at this. “Will is good,” he decides. “I like it a lot. But Dex is… mine. Either is ok.”
Nursey tries his best to tamp down the moonmoths buzzing like crazy in his stomach. “Hey, that sounds good,” he says, and before he can lose the nerve, laces and weaves his fingers in and out of Dex’s own. “Will. Dex. Anything else?” he asks jokingly, but only somewhat.
Dex just…he looks at him. His hand twitches, holds secure. Nursey gets the sense that whatever’s happening right now, right here, is bigger than the both of them. Bigger than anything else in the galaxy, even.
“Nursey,” he says, gold eyes shimmering, almost sober. “You can call me anything you want.”