Chapter Text
You taught me the courage of stars before you left
How light carries on endlessly, even after death
- Saturn, by Sleeping At Last
It has been weeks since the Battle of Scarif. The Death Star has been destroyed and the Rebel base on Yavin IV evacuated. Bodhi is still struggling to accept what happened.
He had woken after days in a bacta tank to find his wounds mostly healed. Now, it was the mental scars that persisted. He manages to block the memories from his mind as best he can, spending his days repairing the Rogue One shuttle and doing his best to pretend that everyone is safe, that he's just prepping the ship for another mission, rather than cleaning up the battle scars, repairing the circuitry that is just as damaged as he is. He manages to pretend well enough to function, except for when the nightmares come.
Every single night, his mind plays back those last few moments on Scarif.
He hears the clatter in the cargo hold, turns just enough to see the grenade before it explodes. By some miracle, he survives, the grenade leaving him with burns and a debilitating headache. But worse than the burns and the concussion - more immediately threatening - is the shrapnel that has gouged his cheek and burried itself in his side. The pain feels distant -adrenaline, he thinks.
Somehow, he manages to drag himself into the pilot's chair, hoping against hope that the damaged ship's controls still work enough. They do, barely. Flying low, Bodhi unsteadily coaxes the ship up and over the short distance to where Chirrut and Baze are huddled together in the sand, landing as close as he dares. Luckily, Base notices the ship immediately, wasting no time as he scoops an injured Chirrut into his arms and runs onto the shuttle.
Bodhi is briefly distracted by the Death Star as it fires, dread and fear coiling together in his stomach. The controls are jerky under his unsteady hands, but he manages to shakily raise the ship, flying towards the tower in the hopes that he might find Cassian, Jyn, and Kay-tu before it's too late.
He already knows it's too late. Even if he could find them, there's not enough time for him to land the ship, get them on board, and escape before the shock wave from the Death Star's strike hits them. Briefly, he catches a glimpse of two figures slumped together on the beach before he is forced to pull up and away from the shock wave, forced to leave Scarif behind, forced to escape with himself, Chirrut, and Baze the only Rogue One survivors.
He manages to get them out of the atmosphere and the hyperspace coordinates set before he passes out.
And wakes up, shaking and with tears stinging in his eyes.
Even worse are the nights where the nightmare changes, twists itself from truth to fiction, where he manages to save Jyn and Cassian and Kay-tu, only to wake and realize that didn't happen, to remember that they never made it off Scarif, that he had to leave them behind.
Within a few weeks, he has stopped sleeping, forcing himself to stay awake in order to avoid the memories, until he collapses from exhaustion. Unfortunately, the exhaustion gets the better of him in the middle of the hangar, late one evening.
Luke Skywalker, back from his first recon mission since blowing up the Death Star is making adjustments to his x-wing when a pilot stumbles past, catching himself briefly on the side of an Imperial ship before collapsing on the ground. Luke doesn't recognize the pilot, but reaches for his comlink immediately, calling for medical assistance. The medics arrive quickly, whisking the pilot off to the infirmary before Luke can even think to ask them for the pilot's name.
The next day, Luke finds himself in the infirmary, asking about the pilot. "Bodhi will be fine," the doctor says quietly. "He's just exhausted. We have him sedated for now to make sure he rests."
Luke recognizes the name immediately. "Bodhi Rook? The pilot of the Rogue One mission?"
The doctor looks at him grimly and sighs. "Bodhi Rook, yes. One of the only three to survive the mission to Scarif, a fact he still seems to struggle to accept."
Luke is familiar with the feeling - Wedge had been the only other member of Red Squadron to survive the attack on the Death Star. However, Luke had been managing to keep himself busy, and he counted himself extremely lucky that he had very few nightmares. He still struggled to accept the loss of so many good pilots. He reminds himself that they died as they would have wanted - with their ships, fighting for freedom and the Rebellion. He was also finally beginning to realize and accept that there was nothing more he could have done.
Luke nods quietly to the doctor and leaves the room. He's back two hours later, asking the doctor to com him as soon as Bodhi wakes up.
It's almost a whole standard day later before Luke gets the message. He finds Bodhi sitting up, staring blankly at his hands as he fidgets with a bit of machinery he got somewhere, the sharp edges threatening to cut into his fingers. Bodhi doesn't notice Luke's presence until Luke places one of his hands over Bodhi's, stilling his hands before his fingers start bleeding. Luke silently sits on the edge of the bed, never letting go of Bodhi's hands. He is unsure what is drawing him to this man, but he can feel the Force flowing between them.
For a long time, they sit in silence, learning more about each other through words unspoken than they might have if they had said the words out loud. Finally, Luke breaks the silence.
"Maybe, when you get out of here, maybe we could... get a drink together or something?" His voice is hesitant but hopeful, and finally Bodhi raises his head, his gaze moving from their clasped hands to meet Luke's eyes. For the first time since Scarif, Bodhi smiles. It's not much, just a slight lift at one corner of his mouth, but Luke swears silently to himself that he will make Bodhi smile more.
"I'd like that," he replies quietly.