Chapter Text
He hated leaving home, unless it was to spend a night at the one bar within fifty kilometers of his shitty farm. But necessity dictated he find a new droid to help with this year’s harvest that was his entire livelihood, so here he was trying to make a deal with a couple of stubborn Jawas.
“That one.” He pointed at the little blue and white droid. It seemed friendly enough, and hopefully it would actually prove helpful.
The Jawa he was addressing turned to chatter to another one and then reached out to shake his hand. Finally.
He grinned lopsidedly and waved the droid over. It came, but with a series of confused beeps. He managed to strap it securely to the back of his speeder and took off for home, wondering if he’d find a way to adequately communicate with this beeping thing.
Dropping the droid off in the garage, he grabbed a couple of beers from inside and his tool box from the back step. He spent about ten minutes fiddling with some of the more obvious loose bits, and the droid beeped happily at him (or at least it sounded happy), so he figured he must be doing something right.
Then it became a game of ‘hot or cold’ to try and find what else needed to be fixed up. Whenever he got close to a part that needed attention, the droid would beep faster, and when he moved away it would slow down. He was even starting to have fun, and the excited beeping when he read out “R2-D2” prompted a smile.
“That’s what they call you, huh?”
More excited beeping.
“Well then, R2-D2, let’s finish getting you fixed up, and tomorrow we’ll put you to work, yeah?”
He let his hand fall to the droid’s side, and he followed the beeping to an unfamiliar slot. After a bit of poking, R2-D2 let out a distressed sound, and he stumbled back as a hologram was suddenly projected from the slot.
He tried to focus on the blurry image before it disappeared just as suddenly.
“The fuck was that?” he demanded.
This string of beeps was almost apologetic, and when he reached for the slot again, R2-D2 got excited.
“So this is broken, too, then? Sorry, buddy, I don’t know what the fuck this thing does. I might not be able to fix it.” Internally, he rather hoped he could, so that he could get a better look at the hologram, which had the appearance of a very attractive human, as far as he’d been able to tell.
After half an hour more, he’d caught another few glimpses of Hologram Guy--enough to convince him that he definitely wanted to see more of this mysterious message. He’d managed to pick up a few words of it here and there, too, enough to know that this guy, whoever he was, was in some kind of trouble.
R2-D2 let out a string of beeps that sounded suspiciously like expletives, and he chuckled. “We’re nearly there, don’t get all bent out of shape.”
As it turns out, they were nearly there, and a moment later the hologram started playing, apparently from the beginning.
He didn’t have a problem keeping his eyes trained on Hologram Guy, who was probably the most attractive person he’d ever laid eyes on. And he tried to focus on the words, he really did. But R2 kindly played it on a loop.
“General Valjean.”
Why was that name so familiar?
“Years ago you served General Lamarque in the Clone Wars. Now I beg you to help us in our struggle against the Empire.”
Hologram Guy was staring straight into his soul, and it made him vaguely uncomfortable...in more ways than one.
“I regret that I am unable to convey this request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and I’m afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed.”
Alderaan. Oh.
“I have placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit. Lamarque will know how to retrieve it.”
The Rebellion. This guy was a leader of the fucking Rebellion. He knew there was something off about all this.
“You must see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan.”
Well, he didn’t know who this was addressed to, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him taking this dumb droid all the way to fucking Alderaan for some pointless rebellion. His rebel days were long gone.
“This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Jean Valjean. You’re my only hope.”
Shit. Jean Valjean. That was a name he knew.
Something unfamiliar stirred in his gut, and he brushed away the approaching guilt. Valjean was dead for all he knew. It wasn’t his job to find him. It wasn’t his job to help this guy. Maybe he wanted to, just a little bit. But insanely attractive Hologram Guy was probably already captured, tortured, and killed by the Empire. Not his problem. Not like he could do anything to help anyway. Even if he wanted to.
He was so absorbed in the looping hologram and his own thoughts that he didn’t hear anyone enter the garage.
“Grantaire?”
He spun around, grabbing an empty beer bottle and instinctively shattering it against the table before he realized his visitor posed no threat. “What are you doing here?” he growled.
The older man ignored his question and gestured to the hologram. “Where did you find that?”
“What’s it to you?”
“I did hear my name...”
“So?”
“Grantaire, there’s no reason to be--”
“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” He knew Valjean didn’t really deserve such hostility, but he couldn’t quite be bothered enough to care.
“I’m sorry, you prefer that ridiculous nickname now, is that right?” Valjean’s voice was harder than he’d ever heard it.
“R,” he said, a little more softly. “My name is R.”
Valjean huffed. “That’s not a name, it’s a letter.”
“All the same.”
Changing tactics, Valjean pointed to the broken bottle R is still clutching. “Is that your weapon of choice these days, then?”
“It was handy.” He tried to keep the note of defensiveness out of his voice.
Valjean nodded. “Of course, I can’t imagine a handier weapon. Or one more suited to you. You wield that bottle like a natural, R.”
R scowled at him and let the bottle fall. When it crashed to the ground, R2-D2 paused the hologram and released a series of concerned beeps.
“It’s alright, R2,” both men said at the same time. R glared at Valjean and put his hand to the droid protectively.
“Yes,” Valjean said, “we’ve met. Now would you mind replaying that message? It is for me, after all.”
R shrugged and turned away, busying himself with appearing busy. “How’d they even know you’re here, anyway,” he said, carefully keeping any genuine curiosity out of his voice.
“They don’t know,” Valjean corrected. “Lamarque must have entrusted the information to Enjolras.”
“Enjolras.” R rolled the name around on his tongue, for a moment, tasting the syllables carefully before finally letting it fall from his lips. “That’s...?”
“The young man who needs my help, yes. I don’t know if I’ll be able to assist him the way he believes I can, unfortunately.”
R snapped his head around. “What do you mean?”
Valjean shrugged. “You’ve seen me. I’m hardly in peak physical condition, R. I’m not the man Lamarque remembers from the wars.”
“Bullshit. You can take one stupid droid back to--” R2-D2 interrupted him angrily. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean that.” R glared at Valjean. “Just take him, will you? This guy...Enjolras. He’s clearly in trouble. You should help him.”
“That’s not quite what I was referring to,” Valjean corrected gently. “I don’t have a ship, and obviously Enjolras will need more help than I could offer, if he’s been taken by the Empire.”
“Prob’ly dead already,” R muttered.
Valjean nodded. “Yes, probably.”
“You can’t just give up!”
“Why not? You clearly have.”
R stared at his shoes. “Well, I’m me. Giving up is all I was ever good for, right? Class A fuck-up, lazy-ass layabout, good-for-nothing f--”
“Enough.” R flinched at the steel in his old mentor’s voice. “You were none of those things until you chose to be.”
“Chose to prove them right, you mean.”
“Which is very unlike the Grantaire I know.” Valjean wasn’t backing down, even when R glared daggers at him.
“The Grantaire you know doesn’t live here anymore,” he snarled, reaching for his second bottle of beer. “Take the droid and fuck off. I don’t care what you do.”
Valjean looked at R2-D2 sadly as R strode out of the garage, slamming the door behind him. R2-D2 beeped sadly.
“Don’t worry,” he told the droid. “He’ll come around.”