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When the first petal appears in his hand after a particularly rough cough, he can’t really say he’s surprised. He knew this was coming. From the moment he joined the Alliance, as these feelings grew stronger and stronger with each passing day, he knew it was inevitable.
But seeing this small pale purple petal in his hand suddenly makes it real. His heart sinks as he stares down at it, realization slowly dawning on him. He wonders how much time he has left. Days, weeks maybe? Months, if he was lucky.
Despite knowing it was coming, he can’t help but feel sour looking at the small little thing. So tiny and delicate, its dark veins visible through the sunlight. Lilacs. Of course, it had to be lilacs. Gods forbid he have the chance to even pretend it was for someone else.
“Arcann?” Senya’s voice calls out to him, her footsteps growing closer as she nears him in the training grounds.
He clenches the petal in his fist, crushing the delicate little thing into pieces before stealthily releasing it to fade into the sands of the training grounds.
“Is everything alright?” She asks, her motherly concern still so foreign to him even after all these months.
He bites his tongue, pushing back a grimace.
“Everything is fine,” He lies through his teeth, “Just a cough.”
Whether she believes him or not, he can’t tell. But she doesn’t press the issue further.
“Hm, I’ve heard the Commander coughing quite a bit lately too, hopefully something isn’t tearing through the base.” She comments idly, “I should get some chamomile tea for you.”
“I’m fine, mother, really.” He’s not sure he can even convince himself, and her stern gaze certainly tells him he can’t convince her.
“It will help. I’ll send the Commander some too. Maybe Lana will appreciate some as well.” She hums thoughtfully as she walks away, heading toward the cafeteria.
He knows he can never tell his mother. If she knew, she would convince him to confess. And that… was definitely not an option.
He didn’t deserve to tell her, to burden her with his feelings after everything he’s put her through. After everything he’s taken from her, he would take no more. He would ask no more from her.
He will die… and he’s accepted this.
—
It’s only two weeks later when he finally coughs up more than just a petal. Four tiny petals clutched together, entombing a speck of yellow pollen in its center. He discards it immediately, tossing it in the trash can as he heads to the War room.
He doesn’t have much time left, he needs to dedicate everything to making this time count.
He buries himself in work, a datapad rarely more than a few inches from his face. Securing his remaining loyalists, setting up plans for rehabilitating Zakuul, marking down all of his remaining resources and connections, securing supply lines and trade routes, everything he can think of. When he’s gone, he wants to make sure he’s done everything he possibly can for the Alliance. For her. It’s the least she deserves. He wants to ensure she’ll be safe when he’s gone, when he can no longer protect her himself.
When he’s not buried in reports and queries on a datapad, he’s either out on the training grounds helping the soldiers learn to defend against force sensitives, or in the enclave teaching his ways of the Force. He was never a good teacher, but Sana Rae helps to guide them.
It’s all he can do, and he only hopes it’s enough.
—
It’s a month after the first petal when someone finally notices something’s up with him. And of course it had to be her.
The Commander slides into the booth opposite him, her lilac gaze intense on him as her clawed metal hand pushes down his datapad.
He looks up at her with surprise, hoping only that he’s able to hide the sense of dread that coats the sting of excitement jumping through him at the sight of her.
Perfect plush lips are curled into a frown, brows furrowed with concern, concern he doesn’t deserve.
“Is everything okay, Arcann?” She asks gently, softly, her voice sweet like honey, filling him with the desire to swallow her words and soothe his burning throat. “You’ve been distant lately, burying yourself in that datapad.”
He inwardly curses himself for not being better at hiding it, for causing her concern when that’s the exact opposite of what he’s been trying to do. He shuffles awkwardly under her gaze, eyes darting around the cantina to try and find an easy way out.
“Everything is fine—“ It almost pains him to lie to her, but he clenches his fist under the table, pushing through as he convinces himself this is what’s best for her. “I only hope to make myself worthy of the Alliance, after everything I’ve done.” It’s not a lie, not by a long shot. But still, her face drops at his words.
Her hands suddenly reach forward, gently wrapping over his metal hand, still tightly clutching his datapad. His surprise causes his grip to loosen, the device falling out of his hand and onto the table with a light ‘thunk.’ She doesn’t waver, her hands clasping his as she looks into his eyes with an emotion he can’t understand but is already struggling to fight back the possibilities it could be.
“Arcann, you are already worthy of the Alliance, and you always will be.” Her words feel so genuine and full of conviction it almost convinces him.
His heart hammers loudly in his chest, throat tightening as that familiar painful tingle rears through him. He swallows hard, feeling the flower with its stem choke back down his throat, shuffling in his seat as she finally releases his hand and he can’t tell if he’s relieved to be free from her warm embrace or disappointed it’s over. Her eyes drop, pink cheeks seeming to redden as she pulls her hands back in.
She looks to the side, observing the other patrons of the cantina as she clears her throat.
A mistake, he reassures himself, a question in judgment was all that was to her.
“There’s something I needed to talk to you about.” She says suddenly, turning back to him and all the softness in her face is now lost, replaced by wide eyes and a biting lip, knee fidgeting beneath the table. In all their time as enemies and allies, he’s never seen her like this. Nervous.
There’s a pause as she seems to struggle with what to say, and in that short time, an onslaught of assumptions tear through him.
‘She wants to reassign you, off the base, far away from the scornful gazes and hateful glares of the other members.’
‘Something happened, something bad. To Senya, maybe? She’s struggling to find the words that won’t set you off.’
‘You did something to upset her. What did you do? Maybe it would be easier to ask what you didn’t do.’
‘She knows.’
She knows. Izax damn him, she knows and she’s trying to find out how to let him down gently.
Disgust and shame tear through him, spoiling his stomach like a pool of black tar bubbling inside him. His heart is beating so loud he can feel every pulse, hear every pulsing thump. Tears damn near bite at his eyes, all of his insides trying so desperately to escape him so they don’t have to suffer what’s coming.
The taste of copper fills his mouth, his throat tight but slick with a thick coating of blood. Something rises up in his throat, blocking his airways and he clenches his eyes, fingers digging tightly into his legs to try and control himself.
Not here. Not in front of her.
“I’m sorry, I need to leave.” He croaks out, jumping to his feet, his voice dusky and hollow, the petals already rising up his throat with every word.
She looks up at him stunned, before she quickly shifts back to concern and damn it, he doesn’t deserve this. He turns, raring to walk away, to rush back to his room where he can spit out his misery and hope it will be over soon.
“Arcann!” She calls out, her hand shooting out to grab his, flesh on flesh, her warmth instantly spreading through him. He has no choice but to stop, to look back at her with wide eyes, jaw tightly clenched.
That emotion he can’t read is back, and he fights every fiber of his being trying to convince him that it’s love, that it’s mutual, and that he’s suffering for nothing. But he refuses to be a fool any longer.
“Just— take a break, okay? I need you… at your best.”
She was killing him. Scyva’s Heart, she was killing him and he was letting her. He would have it no other way.
He can’t speak without spitting out flowers, he can only nod, trying not to think too hard about the disappointment in her face as she lets go, and he stalks off to his room.
When the doors close behind him, he falls to his knees, mouth opening with a gag as he pushes the air out of his throat, coughing as hard as he can. His eyes water, face red as he struggles to breathe. When the flower finally falls from his lips, he collapses on the floor beside it, chest heaving as he recovers.
Finally opening his eyes, vision still blurred from the tears, he looks to the spot beside him. The full bloomed lilac rests beside him, crimson blood decorating its delicate petals, dripping from the leaf at its stem.
It’s almost over, he realizes, relieved and disappointed at the same time. He’s certain the next one will be his last.
The pain will be over, he will no longer have to worry about the Alliance or its Commander. And yet… sorrow fills him almost painfully at the realization he’ll never see her smile again, never hear her laugh or feel her skin or smell her perfume ever again. And it’s stupid and painful and damn him, damn it all. He knows he doesn’t deserve any of those, but Gods he wants them. He wants to see the lines of her smile as she cracks another terrible joke with her sweet molten honey voice. To watch her eyes light up as her head dips back in laughter, that choked yell she only unleashes around people she’s comfortable with. To feel her shoulder bump against his, accompanied always by that familiar grin.
He takes the flower in his hands, the blood staining his white armor but he’s far past the point of caring.
A long, slender stem, branching out a few inches into smaller stems that hold dozens of tiny, four clove flower petals. The petals are soft and silky like her skin, the color a soft pale purple like her eyes. They smell grassy and sweet, the familiar uplifting scent of spring.
It’s killing him. He should hate it. He should throw it away without a thought but he just can’t.
It’s not just a flower, but it’s her. It’s his encapsulation of her and he can’t bring himself to hate it.
He rises from the floor with the flower held delicately in his hands. Silently, he walks to the refresher, quickly turning on the water to flow gently down the sink. With delicate precision, he rinses the blood and spit from its silky petals, finger grazing ever so lightly over all of its petals, all of its stems.
He carries it over to the nightstand by his bed, tossing the datapad off to the side to gently place the flower down. A daily reminder of who he’s fighting for, of the time he cannot waste.
A heavy knocking on his door startles him, the metal on metal clanging giving an instant indication of who is standing outside his room.
“Come in,” He automatically calls out, instantly cursing himself for not thinking. He rushes to the door, hoping to stop her before she comes in too far and sees the flower, his blood still fresh on the floor.
The door opens, and she enters, still looking just as nervous as she was at the cantina.
It’s only been mere moments since he last saw her, and still his heart jumps at her appearance.
“I’m sorry, this can’t wait, I need to talk to you.” She declares, her voice wavering and he has to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her. Instead, he stands strong before her, offering only an encouraging nod as he listens intently. No matter how painful it was for him, this was the least he owed her.
Her fists clench at her side, her weight shifting from leg to leg as her eyes dart around the room. He stands strategically in front of her, blocking her view of the flower on his nightstand. He pushes back the curdling anxiety building inside him at what she could possibly have to say that she’s so uncharacteristically nervous about.
“Okay, okay, I can do this,” She speaks softly to herself, her need for self encouragement only raising his concerns as he raises an eyebrow in turn. She looks up at him again, freezing like an orobird in headlights as her gaze meets his.
He watches intently as she bites her lip, trying not to think about how this might be the last time he ever sees her do so.
“Arcann,” She finally speaks up, his name a hollow plea that dances from her lips like music to his ears, “I’m—“ She spurs out in a fit of coughing so strong she falls to her knees, her hands moving quickly to cover her mouth.
His eyes widen, instantly dropping down beside her as he rests a comforting hand on her back, unsure of what to do here.
“Reena, are you alright?” His concern is far too high to worry about his slip up of calling her by her name, a delicacy he knows he has no right to.
She can’t respond with anything other than spitting chokes and grumbles. He rubs her back, eyes darting around his room to see if he has any water to help her. She heaves a final breath, hacking something into her closed hands as she finally looks back up at him, tears in her eyes. He looks down at her cupped hands, eyes widening as he sees what they hold.
A beautiful yellow rose.
“I’m in love with you.”
Words escape him, his ears ringing so loud he can no longer hear her heavy breathing. Blue eyes stuck on the golden flower in her hands. He can barely even breathe as it finally catches up in his head what she’s just said. His mind fails him as he tries to think of how to respond, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth with no words to save him. Silently, he stands, briskly walking towards the bedside table where he gently lifts the lilac in his hands, turning back to present it to her.
Her eyes widen at the sight, just as surprised as he was seeing hers.
“You have it too?” She asks so wildly full of disbelief, eyes darting from the flower back to him and he has to smile. The smile slowly falls as her hand pushes his down, gently so as not to touch the flowers.
“Arcann, you need to give this to them—“
He almost wants to laugh. After everything he’s been through, she doesn’t get it.
“I’m giving this to you.” He says simply, softly, his gravely voice so unused to such a gentle tone.
Her eyes widen, that lovely purple color an exact match to the flowers in his hand.
“Why are you…?” She trails off, eyes falling to the lilacs and gods above damn him, he can’t take this anymore.
He leans down and presses his lips to hers, silencing her shallow gasp as his metal hand wraps to press against the small of her back, pushing her closer to him. Both of their hands raise to hold their flowers above their chests, keeping them safe. Her lips press back into his, softer and plusher than he ever could have imagined. She tastes like whiskey and roasted bantha steak and it’s not entirely pleasant but he’s far too blissed out to care. They pull away after what feels simultaneously like forever and far, far too short a moment.
Their shallow breaths fill the silent room, her big lilac eyes staring up at him.
“Oh.” She says simply, dumbfounded with the curl of a smile raising her lips.
“I’m in love with you.” He finally declares in turn and it feels like heaven on his lungs, finally saying it, out loud, to her. The ecstasy only intensifies as her smile widens, bright shining teeth against soft pink skin. She sets the lilacs gently on the table, deftly plucking the rose still cupped in his palm and placing them beside each other, before she falls into him, head tucking under his chin as her arms wrap under his, hugging him tightly. He responds in full, wrapping his arms around her to hold her tightly to him.
He feels a fool for not saying anything sooner, for letting them both suffer for so long, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Here and now, she was warm in his arms, and he was finally free of the itch in his throat, no more petals threatening to escape him.
Now, he could stay by her side through whatever comes.