Chapter Text
She looked out over the people gathered outside. The memorial had been nice. Respect and admiration and above all gratitude. So many had come to express their thanks, and it had been very nice. But when she looked out at the family gathered after, sharing stories and laughing, to her that was the greatest memorial. For those that loved him, even in their grief they couldn't help but laugh at their most vivid memories. Love and joy, and rightfully so.
If she'd been out there, the story she would tell is one everyone already knew, because they'd heard it from her a dozen times before, or more. He always refused to charge credits for what he did. He said insisting on payment was like using their troubles to extort them. Yet they'd never lacked, gifts and patronage filling every need. He paradoxically never turned down a gift. He said once their trouble was solved, if they offered something out of gratitude, it would be rude to turn it down. He saw no contradiction in the logic. Not that the gifts were what motivated him. She knew very well that what made his eyes shine with delight was when someone arrived with a new problem for him to solve.
Of course, there were loads of people in the galaxy who'd just take advantage of someone like that without a thought. But thanks to the people around him, those kind of people never seemed to find him. Or if they did, they looked around them and thought better of it before they followed through with exploiting him. So he got to happily play his naive little game.
She would express the story like a complaint, exasperation with his stubborn illogic. But everyone who heard it knew very well it was no such thing. They all could see her eyes shining with that same delight as she explained it.
Out in the yard, one of the little ones went tearing through the middle of the gathering, an older cousin's honor cake held aloft as a trophy, the cousin in outraged pursuit. The thief took refuge behind her chair, and she found she had already broken off a piece of the evidence and handed it down before any thought of justice occurred to her.
"I have observed," said the droid standing beside her, "across a considerable range of cultures, organic and otherwise, a remarkably consistent division of labor in the raising of young. It appears to be very nearly universal. Discipline is the role of the parent. For the grandparent, the role is indulgence."
She smiled and handed down another piece. "This is the way."
Her smile faded when she spotted the unfamiliar droid approaching. It wasn't that it was a droid — there were several of them mixed in among the family, familiar fixtures. But this droid she didn't know. And even so, it felt familiar. Medical droid.
If he'd been here, he would have reacted differently, she knew very well. He would hurry over and ask for news and wish good tidings, no matter the background. It wasn't his way to harbor any ill will, no matter how much sense it would have made. But he wasn't here. He wouldn't ever be physically here again. And that made everything entirely different, especially to her.
She opened a drawer filled with assorted tools, and picked up a hammer. It was small, not as heavy as she would have liked. But she didn't feel like taking her favorite hammer down from its honored place above the mantle. Even though she was old now — quite thoroughly elderly — she wasn't frail. She reckoned she could still hammer that droid flat if she had a reason, even with this little hammer.
Not that the others would allow it. They wouldn't prevent it, of course. They'd do what was needed in her place, if she made it clear it was needed.
She strode out to meet the droid, hammer in hand.
It held up its hands. "I do not mean to cause alarm. I come only to express my condolences. My own, and on behalf of Ronyards."
She eyed it warily. "It's not what's said that concerns me. It's what's being left unsaid."
Others began to gather around.
"It is apparent that I am causing undue distress. I will go. But please understand that I mean only what I have said. My condolences and respect."
She was right, of course, the droid thought as it walked away. There was an inescapable unspoken message. The bargain was fulfilled, utterly and completely. It reveled in the import of that fact. The moment could come at any time now. Not a moment too soon.
And yet, 20 more years passed.