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Melshi didn’t think he’d ever see Keef again.
He’d thought that since they’d split up at that beach, framed by the purples and reds of the setting sun, the fresh air that was so alien sitting heavily in his lungs. The galaxy was a wide, wide place, and Melshi and Keef were just two men.
Although Melshi still stood by his decision to split up, to double their chances, he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t sometimes regret it. After all, Keef had been the only light in the hellhole that was Narkina 5. He may very well have been the only other survivor.
And maybe it was stupid, but the nature of Melshi’s memories from that time were hazy. Just a blur of pain and fear, buzzing with the stabbing pain of electricity and furious cries of on program ringing in his ears. Sometimes, he couldn’t be sure what was real and what wasn’t.
In some strange way, Keef had been Melshi’s proof that it all happened. That they survived.
Years passed after their parting, and life moved on. Melshi went where he wanted to and slept in and wore shoes and ate food other than flavourless sludge. He enjoyed every drop of his freedom, still haunted by the knowledge that most of the men he's known from the prison would never get the chance to. He’d whisper their names to himself every night, as if it would breathe their memory into being, preserve their prematurely ended lives in a galaxy that didn’t care.
Kino, Ulaf, Ham, Jembec, Taga, Xaul, Birnok, and so many more.
Melshi wondered if he should add Keef to that list. He wasn’t sure he could handle that.
As incredible as his hard-earned freedom was, there came a time when Melshi could ignore the crushing, suffocating grip of the Empire no longer. As fervent as his hatred for them was, he’d figured he’d already lost enough to them. What more could he sacrifice? He never wanted to be that powerless again. Never wanted to be a wayward soul crushed under their mighty boot.
But whenever he wanted to hide away for his entire life and block out all of the suffering around him, he thought of Keef. He thought of the man who rallied an entire prison to escape, thought of the man who talked and talked to distract him from the pain in his hands when they clung to a jagged cliff face for hours, thought of the man he trusted with his life.
Keef would fight.
So, Melshi did too.
It started with small things; stealing from the Empire, looking the other way for Rebel activity, defying Imperial authority. Then, as he got to know the local Rebels more, he got more daring. Went on missions. Fought Imperials.
All of that led to now: his arrival on Yavin 4.
The Officer who received him and the other new recruits was a tall, bony man, with what seemed to be a permanent scowl etched into his angular face. They were a ragtag group, crowded around the ship they’d been transported here in.
“Welcome to Yavin 4,” the man said, voice nasally and droning. “I'm Lieutenant Dirral, and I'll be showing you all around today.
“Our base is divided into four different Rebel Cells, all of which work separately but independently,” he began as he led the group forward, boots clacking against the rocky ground in a staccato rhythm. “Whatever you think you know about the Rebellion and the Empire, you’re going to have to leave it at the door. We are no ragtag group of thieves; we are an army. We expect nothing less than complete compliance and submission to the chain of command.”
Melshi pushed down the thrill of dread that arose at hearing those words— compliance. Submission. It was all too similar to his time in Narkina 5, working and working at the whims of others.
“This is Hangar 1,” Dirral said, coming to a stop in front of a gaping hole in the side of the temple and turning to face the new recruits. “This is where all trade and supply runs are handled. Now, if you look over there—”
The rest of the man’s words were drowned out by the heartbeat thundering in his ears as Melshi noticed a dark-haired man standing in front of one of the ships.
A familiar man.
It can’t be.
The still-talking tour guide shoved to the back of his mind, Melshi took a step forward, stomach churning with an unbearable, dread-soaked hope. This was something he’d never dared wish for; giving into childish fantasies only made this cruel, unforgiving world harder to bear. That was a lesson Melshi had learned young.
But then the man turned slightly, his profile framed by the fiery light of the setting sun—dark eyes set in a lightly stubbled face and a crooked nose.
“Keef?” Melshi whispered, voice cracking on the name he hadn’t said in so long. Although the word was barely a breath, the man still cocked his head, turning fully with an eyebrow raised.
Their eyes met. Keef’s usually guarded, impenetrable coal eyes widened, a flash of emotions passing through them in the space of a single breath.
“Melshi?” Keef’s voice was just how he remembered. Deep, husky, but unburdened by the weariness that used to cling to them all like the cold of the metal prison.
The tantalising warmth of hope began to set in, seeping through Melshi’s entire body and making him feel lighter than air. Before he even realised it he was running, catching only a glimpse of Keef’s shocked face before he threw his arms around him.
“You’re alive,” he breathed into the space between Keef’s shoulder and neck, tightening his grip on the back of his jacket and curling even further into him. Melshi wasn’t usually one prone to extreme displays of affection, but Keef was someone he’d accepted as dead.
“You’re… here,” Keef said slowly, like he couldn’t believe the words even as they left his mouth. He wasn’t returning the embrace; his body was tense and rigid in Melshi’s arms, breaths shuddering against Melshi’s ear. “You’re here,” he repeated, voice taking on a thick, unnameable quality that sent tendrils of dread squeezing around Melshi’s heart. “Why?”
Melshi paused, the watery smile dropping from his face. Keef didn’t sound happy, or relieved; he sounded angry.
He pulled back from the hug, looking into Keef’s face. His eyebrows were drawn, eyes alight with intensity as he scanned Melshi’s face as if committing it to memory.
“To join the Rebellion,” Melshi answered, voice thick with resolve.
“No,” Keef said lowly, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “No, you can’t. Not you.”
Melshi’s face dropped into a scowl. “Why not?”
“Melshi, listen to me,” Keef said, seizing him by the shoulders and looking squarely into his eyes. “It's not too late. You can still turn back. Go to a planet far away, somewhere the Empire hasn’t found yet, and enjoy your freedom. Don’t… don’t throw it all away.”
“I…” Melshi blinked hard, his earlier elation giving way to a fury that'd been festering for years, a burning flame of hatred inside him he wasn't sure would ever go out. He knocked the hands off his shoulders. “No. I am done letting the Empire control us.”
Keef breathed hard, still staring at Melshi unblinkingly. His expression faltered, some of the fight leaking out of his tense body. “Mel—”
“Captain Andor, I am so sorry!” the nasally voice of Dirral rang out, breaking Melshi out of his trance as he glanced around. “I don’t know what the recruit was thinking, disturbing you like that. I’ll be sure to discipline him harshly—”
Keef held up a hand, shaking his head at the man, and Melshi watched the exchange in confusion. Who was Captain Andor? “No, it’s alright. I’ll deal with him, thank you.”
The man hesitated for another moment, eyes flickering between the two men, before he nodded slightly and slinked away.
Keef deflated slightly, stepping back and glancing to the side. “We have a lot to talk about,” he said softly, burying his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Let’s go to my cabin. It’s quiet there.” He went to start walking, then paused, looking back at Melshi. “It’s… good to see you, Mel,” he added with a small smile.
Melshi breathed in, then out. “You too.”
A short trek into the woods later, Melshi and Keef were sitting on opposite ends of a round wooden table, steaming cups of coffee sitting in front of them.
“So,” Keef drawled, eyes lost in the dark liquid in front of him. “It’s been a while, huh?”
Melshi snorted slightly. “A while, yeah.”
Keef looked up at him with a resigned expression, a slightly fond smile breaking through his drawn features. “There’s no talking you out of joining the Rebellion, is there?”
“Come on, Keef. You know me.” Melshi leaned back in his chair, cupping the warm mug between his hands. “Do you really think I can live the rest of my life in blissful ignorance?”
“No,” Keef said in defeat, shoulders sagging. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”
“So you can risk your life as a Rebel, but I’m not allowed to?” Melshi asked with a raised eyebrow. “That’s not very fair, Keef.”
Keef flinched slightly, face souring with guilt. “Cassian,” he corrected quietly. “My name. It’s not Keef Girgo, it’s Cassian Andor.”
Melshi swallowed thickly, digesting this new information. He’d suspected something like this after what Dirral said, but he couldn’t help the slight thrill of hurt that went through him. He hadn't been in prison to make friends, but Keef’s quiet resolve had wormed its way into his heart, until he trusted him with his life.
He’d assumed the same had been true for Keef, but apparently he was mistaken.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Keef—no, Cassian— sighed deeply, leaning his elbows on the table. “It is… dangerous to know me,” he began haltingly, thinking every word through. “Back then, I was already wanted by the Empire for multiple crimes and Rebel activity. There was… a lot at stake.”
“And after? There were no guards then. You could've told me.”
Cassian shrugged, tracing the rim of his mug with a finger and avoiding Melshi's eyes. “They were two different lives. Cassian couldn't have been on Narkina 5, and Keef couldn't have been a Rebel. I just… I needed to keep them seperate.”
“But now I'm here,” Melshi said.
Cassian sighed again, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Now you're here,” he echoed.
They sat in silence for a second, tempered only by the buzz of insects outside of the cabin. Cassian looked tired, and worn, like he’d been carrying the world on his back for far too long.
“Well, Cassian,” Melshi began, raising his hand and offering it in a handshake, “it's nice to meet you.”
Cassian's face broke into a startled smile, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he clasped Melshi's hand in his and gave it a firm shake. “You too.”