Chapter Text
Prompt: 38. "I wanted to know if you were okay."
Happenstance
Kleya has survived the end of her family - her world twice now. The second time by her own hand.
And while she had bent, she had not - decidedly - broken. (The rest of them wouldn’t let her.)
So she does what she always has.
She adapts.
She works.
And she fights.
She never raises her voice of course. That was unnecessary and a waste of energy. She has nothing to prove, and only the people already aware of that truly matter. (One less person now. After Scar- She cuts off that thought with old efficiency as she bends further into the guts of the latest comms disaster at headquarters.)
Of course, she has to bite off the yell that almost comes out when she feels the touch on her lower back and rises with pliers in hand ready to stab- She freezes immediately when it is Senator Mothma’s eyes that meet her own apologetically.
“I’m sorry, Kleya. I hadn’t meant to startle you.”
“No.” Kleya winces at her own terseness, but how does she even start to explain the reason for her nerves to the person causing them? Explain the way the quiet trembling of her heart from being startled has grown to the rapid fluttering of unnecessary emotions?
No.
Impossible.
A complication of their recent proximity to one another.
She gentles her tone. “No, it’s fine.” She’s trying to smile, but she’s pretty sure it comes out as a grimace instead. Her masks still aren’t quite repaired for public use yet.
It seems that Mon- Senator Mothma catches on but plays along as she always had. “No. It’s not. I should know better after more than a year on a…” Her eyes do a quick sweep of the stone around them. “A military base. Anyone who has…”
Kleya can see the Senator (she reminds herself constantly of the title - lest she forgets) shuffling through words to ensure… ‘optimal’ sensitivity and sensibility. This makes her smile lighten that much closer to genuine.
“Who has survived as much and for as long as you have would… dislike being surprised this way.”
Later, Kleya would blame it on the good Senator for leaving that opening to barge her way through. Later, when they can laugh about it.
“I don’t dislike it!” Kleya startles both of them with that sudden statement - Mon’s masks are still her constant companion, although she relaxes with her and Vel and Bail. But only just. So Kleya knows just how deep Mon’s response goes for her to see the subtle cues of her surprise. “I mean. I don’t dislike it… when it’s you.”
Oh. That came out… not quite right (or maybe too right - too forthright by far), and Kleya curses her still flustered, fluttering heart.
“I mean-!”
Mon reaches out to gently grab the hand that was waving awkwardly as if trying to grab an answer from the air and smiles at Kleya in a way that silences her immediately. Makes her throat go dry and her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.
(She knew there was a reason for limiting their exposure to each other back on Coruscant. This was… decidedly inconvenient. This disobedient heart surrounded by not quite repaired walls.)
“It’s okay, Kleya.”
Mon doesn’t let go, and suddenly, Kleya’s parched throat floods with some kind of unfamiliar sentimentality.
“It’s okay. We’re… okay.”
And if Kleya reads an unspoken promise in there somewhere, she can’t be blamed.