Work Text:
The impracticality of the human species as a whole makes their continual survival puzzling.
Their recklessness compounded with a disregard for strategy certainly made working with them a constant source of trouble for K-2SO and it seemed like few of his fellow droids fared any better minding their own human counterparts.
That any of them ever reached adulthood was mystery enough to him before seeing firsthand just how soft and defenseless human beings were upon entering the world. Kay-Tu understands the logic of procreating in order to continue the survival of the species but surely some effort could be made to make the whole process more efficient. Instead there was the long gestation period that had rendered Jyn Erso ill on numerous occasions, increased the unpredictability of her actions and moods by more than half, to say nothing of the increase to her overall body mass.
(Jyn had ignored Kay-Tu for nearly a week when he’d told her how much bigger she was comparatively, and Cassian had hissed at him between clenched teeth whenever Kay-Tu tried pointing out that his math was sound.)
That was to say nothing of the birth, which he had been expressively forbidden from being present for, banished instead to the hallway under the pretense of waiting for the arrival of Bodhi Rook, who was scheduled to arrive that day. Kay-Tu had warned Cassian and Jyn numerous times, about the likelihood of her going into labor at that point regardless of the projected due date their medic had given them. But in typical fashion no one bothered to take him seriously until their plans were disrupted by the sudden onset of labor pains.
Kay-Tu inspects the infant currently held in the crib before him. At approximately seven months, twelve days, and three point four hours old, she is still trying to master the task of pulling herself upright. Her technique requires improvement. She is relying solely on her grip of the railing caging her in and using very little of her legs to hoist herself upright.
“You would be more effective if you supported yourself with your legs.” Kay-Tu suggests helpfully, though he isn’t sure why he bothers. Though almost a year old already, data available on the subject inform him that most human infants are capable of only the most rudimentary comprehension. Auren Erso Andor clucks her tongue at him as though to prove his point. A string of spit dribbles down her soft round chin. He can’t help but wonder at how her every minor accomplishment can incite so much excitement for her parents.
Cassian thinks she’ll walk soon despite her only just mastering crawling. Her gross motor development would need to improve expediently for his hypothesis to be proven correct. He seems happy enough however, balancing her on his hip, pointing out things that Auren is too young to understand or recognize for what they are. Kay-Tu hasn’t tried to dissuade him on the point. (“That’s kind of you.” Jyn says with something that Kay-Tu thinks must be fondness—it is the same tone she uses when she chides Cassian for picking Auren up whenever she cries or when Auren spills her breakfast all over herself in the mornings and she has to be changed again. After all these years together he can say with eighty-three percent certainty she means it as a compliment.)
She clucks at him again, a smile widening her features to the point where her eyes almost disappear. People have commented that she looks like her father but Kay can think of other humanoids who bear greater resemblance to Cassian. Given time he thinks, analyzing the shape of her face, there is at least a strong thirty-eight percent probability that she will inherit her father’s brow ridge in addition to his dark eyes and coloring.
Auren bends her legs, bounces up and down twice while emitting a high pitched trilling sound that he knows now to interpret as laughter. Then she promptly falls on her posterior with a soft squawk. “I could have told you that would happen.” Kay-Tu says primly, studies Auren as her face contorts and her body temperature increases.
Oh. He hates when this happens.
“Don’t.” He says firmly, then reconfigures his approach as her mouth begins to tremble more fiercely. “Please.”
Auren lets out a watery wail. “You could not have sustained any serious injuries in a fall from that insignificant height.” Kay-Tu tells her matter of factly, not that she cares at all. (She obviously takes after her mother. Cassian should worry more.) Her wailing intensifies.
There’s the hiss of the door sliding open behind him and he doesn’t bother trying to determine whether it is Cassian or Jyn who have come in response to Auren’s cries. “What happened?” Cassian yawns, bleary eyed and sleep rumpled (it is usually Cassian who comes when Auren cries in the night. Some sort of peace agreement he and Jyn made after Auren’s delivery when Jyn managed to be menacing despite looking considerably distracted by the infant the medics had placed in her arms).
“She fell after standing for roughly four and a half minutes.” Kay-Tu answers. Auren stops crying almost as soon as Cassian reaches over the side of the crib and lifts her out of it. Kay-Tu, who has been monitoring her growth since she was born, notes how much bigger she is now, even for an infant. He hopes that where her height is concerned her genetics are more in line with Cassian than Jyn’s. She’ll still be shorter than him regardless.
“How long did she sleep?” Cassian asks, holding Auren against his chest. She sniffs indistinctly and hides her face against her father’s shirt.
“Just under three hours.” Kay-Tu answers, carefully cataloguing Cassian’s sigh. She hasn’t been sleeping as long as they’d like for weeks now. Fussing, is the word Jyn uses to describe it, Auren fusses throughout the day after a night of too little sleep. She also disrupts her parents’ sleep cycles which leads to them both being disgruntled and absentminded throughout the day. Kay-Tu stationed himself in her room tonight in the hope of gaining insight into the situation. He isn’t sure that he’s gathered anything useful yet.
Cassian mumbles something nearly indistinguishable against the dark hair covering Auren’s head. An endearment. Auren settles into her father’s grip.
To their backs the door slides open again. “She alright?” Jyn asks, voice low as a precautionary measure. (Auren is a loud messy creature but Jyn and Cassian both handle her with infinite care. It’s an interesting paradox to witness in action.)
Jyn comes around to Cassian’s other side, hair a disorderly tangle around her face. Auren garbles a sound in recognition of her mother, reaches with one small hand for the leather cord visible at the collar of Jyn’s sleep shirt. “She’s alright.” Jyn answers her own question, one hand coming to rest on Auren’s back. Jyn studies Auren, and Cassian studies Jyn and Kay-Tu monitors them all.
They’ve changed too, Cassian and Jyn, from the people they were once. Discarded old traits that no longer proved useful. They’ve developed new habits, routines, have grown into new lives.
For all their worrying and arguing about what they would do after the rebellion’s war ended, Kay-Tu thinks peace suits them better than either of them will ever admit. If they’d just listened to Kay-Tu when he attempted to run possible scenarios they could have saved themselves the time and emotional distress and possibly quickened the arrival of Auren.
Not that Auren was not a part of any of those scenarios. Kay-Tu hadn’t accounted for her. Even now he has a hard time predicting what might happen when she’s still very much in the process of becoming a person. (“He’s not a caretaking droid.” Jyn whispers, voice barely audible over the comm linking Auren’s room to the one she shares with Cassian. “What if he gets bored?” Cassian’s response was slightly easier to catch, closer to the comm than Jyn. “He’ll stay.” “Because he’s your friend?” There was humor in Jyn’s voice. “Because he’ll want to know how she turns out.” A good answer.)
“Do you plan to stand here for the remainder of the night?” Kay-Tu asks. Jyn drops her head to Cassian’s shoulder with a snort.
Neither of them moves. In Cassian’s arms Auren turns her head, cranes her neck upward to stare at Kay-Tu. She makes another clucking sound, albeit softer. When she yawns she exposes her toothless gums. “Think she’s trying to say your name.” Cassian says and it takes Kay-Tu a moment to conclude that Cassian isn’t addressing Jyn as he usually does when he makes that statement, rather he’s addressing Kay-Tu. “Unlikely.”
Auren clucks again.
There is a greater chance of it being any one of hundreds of possible phonemes, devoid of meaning, but Auren stares up at him and clucks. Perhaps this once, Kay-Tu is willing to disregard the odds.
-
The End