Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time he saw her, he thought a stray sunbeam had fallen from the sky. Her very being was bright. The smile on her face was pure. Her laughter was airy. Her intelligence, charm, humor. It all was foreign to him.

His ship always seemed brighter whenever she entered it. Its dull durasteel being polished by her presence. The small, barely there galley seemed bigger. The food it held was always delicious.

He swore it had to be a trick. There was no way he was this lucky. He wasn’t lucky enough to meet someone like her. She was kind and soft. Joy was in every bone of her body. But he wasn’t any of that. He was rough and blunt. Chaos and danger stalked him wherever he went. He was a monster. And she was something else entirely.

He loved their talks. Even if he didn’t have much to say. She would always ramble on about the smallest of things. And he cherished every word. He carefully held each thought and idea she had. They were precious to him. Those beautiful thoughts in that beautiful mind. They were hers, and he would treat them as such.

But the one thing he could never fully comprehend was how she welcomed him back after he left. Every single time. He would land in her hanger bay and she would already be out there waiting for him with a cup of whatever new drink she found and a big smile on her face. She would invite him to dinner (he would always say no, but always ended up going) and they would talk for hours about what he had seen and where he was.

It was remarkable. No one ever invited him to anything. That just came with the job of being a bounty hunter. But she always invited him. She made him feel included.

Then, after the mess with the kid and giving him up, he came back and saw that the sun had died.

She was gray. Faded and dull. Like someone had drained the sunbeam out of her. She didn’t look him in the eye. Whether that was for her sake or his (or someone else’s), he’d never know.

She forgot the drink she promised him the last time he was there.

“Sorry, I haven’t been able to go out and get some.”

All he could do was nod at her somber, quiet voice. Silence fell between them as he stared at her face through his helmet. She tried to hide, but he saw everything that was etched into it. The bags under her eyes. Her tear-stained cheeks. Her bloodshot eyes and messy hair. Every muscle in his body twitched. Half of them screamed at him to find the bastard that did this, while the other half screamed at him to hold her. To cradle her. To try to revive whatever sunshine was left in her.

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t overstep the carefully placed boundaries both of them had set. But Maker did he want to. He wanted to say, “To hell with it” and hold her. To show her how much he cared for her. To let her know that he was here, and he was going to stay.

But instead he said, “Same hangar fee as always?”

She just nodded, and he mentally kicked himself. She was upset and in pain over something and all he could talk about was the fucking hangar fee. Some friend he was.

“If that’s all, I will be going now.” Her voice barely reached his ears, and she turned away to leave. Feeling like a piece of shit and panicking, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Her soft skin was a shock to his rough gloves. Her flinch did not go unnoticed by him.

“Wait,” his modulated voice pierced the silence. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” Her gaze shot up to his helmet, giving him a full view of her face. It was worse than he thought. The dejection on her face made the beast in him scream. Whoever did this would pay. No matter what she said. No one deserves to go through whatever hell she did.

“S-sure…” Her tiny voice replied.

“I promise it’s not rations. But that can be an appetizer if you want.” The knot in his chest unraveled at her small laugh. There’s the sunshine.

“Sounds like a death sentence,” a tiny smile took over her face. He slightly relaxed at the sight of it.

“I’ll see you then, tranyc’ika.” He would kill the highest-ranking Imperial officer for her to smile like she did when he called her that.

—

Dinner was a level above awkward.

She arrived a little later than planned, the food was subpar, according to him, and the conversation was more than dead. It was beaten and run over. And the tension that permanently hung in the air was the worst.

He was following her lead, of course. Pretending like she didn’t look like the disturbing, muted version of herself and avoiding the big question as to why. And trying to make the cold underbelly of his ship comfortable for her at the same time. But the awkwardness and dread made it feel like he was the one making it worse.

Eventually, he broke the tension.

“I uh, I have fruit if you want any.”

“Ah, yeah. That sounds good…”

“I’ll get it—”

“No, I’m closer to it—”

They stood up at the same time and ran into each other. Her head was about to collide with his helmet when he grabbed her. He put his hand on her head to shield her from the blow and pulled her into his chest. They stood there in silence. Quick breaths filled the echoey space. Then he heard a sniffle.

“Are you—” he could barely get the words out when the woman he held crescendoed into sobs. Her whole body shook with the force of them.

His grip around her became tighter, and his hand cradled the back of her head. Her arms wrapped themselves around him. He sat on a crate and let her sit on his lap. She didn’t seem to notice the change of position as she sobbed into his shoulder.

He broke out into a quiet hum and rocked her. He was brought back to the memories of his son. The little guy needed this same comfort when he woke up from a nightmare. His little buddy would be so scared. And his heart sank even more at the thought of his son not being there. The little guy would know what to do. He was better with people.

Pushing aside the memory of his son, he focused on the present.

She needed him now.

He held and rocked her until her sobs turned into sniffles, and then silence. She was asleep. He was ceaseless in his rocking. He would make sure she felt safe here. Nothing would ever hurt her in his arms. That was a guarantee.

His tender gaze was hidden behind his helmet and her eyelids. He stopped humming a while ago. His breathing pattern followed hers. Slowly in for one, quietly out for one. His body sat still for her. Never twitching. Not even a hair out of place. He squeezed her tighter.

He could feel his eyes slowly slip shut. Snapping them at attention, he stared at the beautiful woman in his arms. She needed him to be awake. But the last quarry he caught kept him ceaselessly hunting for days, and his body was slowly starting to shut down.

Sighing, he slowly scooched himself backwards until his back was against the wall. If he fell asleep, the wall of his ship would hold him, and he would continue to hold her. His eyes fluttered closed, and sleep took him away.

But he still held on to her.

—

Waking up alone wasn’t new. But surprising since he would have woken up the moment she moved.

He blinked a couple of times to get his bearings. He hasn’t slept that hard in a long time. And he wouldn’t mind sleeping like that again. Especially if he could actually wake up with her in his arms.

He wouldn’t deny that he hadn’t thought about it before. Waking up with her. Squeezing her. Moving her hair away from her sleepy face. Asking her how she slept. Telling her she looked beautiful. Giving her soft kisses on her face. Then capturing her lips. Feeling her softly moan into his mouth as he slid his tongue into her mouth.

Shaking the thought away, he stood and stretched. He really needed to sleep in his cot one of these days. He heard a noise coming from outside his ship. The thought of seeing her stirred a combination of hope and terror in him.

How would she react to his presence? Would she be uncomfortable? He wouldn’t blame her if she were. He overstepped yesterday. That wasn’t good.

Turning towards his weapons cabinet, he did need to find a quarry here after all, he opened it and pulled out his rifle and blaster. He would be out hunting today, but he wasn’t going to sit on this. It wouldn’t be right.

Walking down the ramp, he noticed that she was gone. She wasn’t in her office or the house that connected to the hangar. And she wasn’t in the main area. He shifted his weight as he thought of the possible places she could be.

Nothing stood out to him besides the market, but she said she was too busy to go there. Maybe she found time.

Something glinted against the sunlight. He turned his blaster on it. Instead of finding a dangerous person, he found a cup. He slowly walked to it, blaster still out. Inside it was a purple liquid. The same shade she described when he first got here.

Warmth flooded his veins as he stared at the cup. She got this for him to try, even after he overstepped. Or maybe this was her way of saying he hadn’t? Leaving it up to a mystery, he looked around to make sure the coast was clear. Then he released the clasp on his helmet.

He lifted it just enough to down the whole thing, then shut his helmet back up.

It was sweet and spread warmth through his body.

It reminded him of her.

—

The hunt had not gone well.

The bounty had run into a gang’s territory and gotten himself killed. Luckily, he could get the body back. But that meant a lower payout as the bounty was worth more alive.

It was a shame, but it came with the job.

But all his frustration melted when he saw her. She was working on one of the outer panels of his ship today. Covered in grease and grime. Her hair was up, but strands of it had slipped out of the band to frame her face. It looked like the sunshine had returned, just for a moment.

“Sweetheart?”

Shit.

Shit, no, no that wasn’t supposed to slip out. He can’t call her that.

Yet, she doesn’t seem to mind as her face whips to his with that smile on it.

—

The next time he visits, she’s more of a mess.

One moment she’s talking, the next she’s quiet. Her quiet stares into nothingness don’t go unnoticed. Her detachment from the world is frightening. She flickers between sky and earth. Not tethered to reality.

Her arms are heavy, and her eyes are downcast. She trips over nothing more than normal. She forgets things and looks worse as the days go by.

And it hurts.

It hurts watching her pick up the pieces of herself. It hurts to see her stumble and drop them and cry. He wants to do it for her. He so badly wants to pick her up, and piece her together again. But she won't let him. And he knows why. It’s not his place, nor is he responsible for her or it. But Maker does he want to. He wants to build her back up. Make her new again. But all he can do is support her as she does the work.

And that’s what he does.

He notices that she has nothing in her fridge, so he buys food. He isn’t sure what she likes, but the smile on her face is enough to reassure him.

He sees that she is having a hard time fixing a droid. And while he is not too comfortable with them yet, he will do it for her.

Her plumbing isn’t working one day, and he lets her use his refresher while he fixes it. Her surprise and joy are more than enough to thank him.

He even holds her when she gets overwhelmed and can’t focus. And he knows he shouldn’t be doing this.

He shouldn’t hold her; he knows that’s only for him, not her. That he’s giving the type of comfort he shouldn’t be. Making her dependent on him. But he is only a man, and a selfish one at that.

A little part of him wants her to rely on him, and only him. That part of him begs him to make it happen. It begs him to hold her daily and let her cry. He will be her strong shoulder to cry on.

And it’s selfish.

He is just a small planet distantly orbiting her sun. He only admires from afar, never daring to get closer. He will be consumed by that little part if he does. Destroyed if he gets too close. Yet here he is. As close as he will ever be. Holding her and keeping her safe in his arms. And all he feels is warm. It spreads from his chest to his head. To his arms, fingers, legs, and toes. Her warmth surrounds him. Slowly penetrating his outer shell and getting to the softness underneath.

And Maker does he want more.

But he relents and lets her cry. Doing nothing but holding her. Wishing he could do more. Wishing he could find the bastard who did this and put an end to him.

But he doesn’t.

He stays and lets her cry again.

—

The next time he sees the sun, it's like she’s slowly starting to warm up again.

She’s not as tired or cold, but traces of it are still there. She has most of her pieces back. They don’t fit like they did before, but she’s living with it. But that’s all she’s doing: living.

He still doesn’t ask what or who (he’s pretty sure it’s a who) did this to her. He just continues to support her while he’s there. And he makes every excuse he can think of to stay.

“Karga told me there’s another quarry here,” he lies to her.

“I’m still tracking them,” he mutters when she makes an off-hand comment at the end of the second week. Both of them know why he stays for three weeks. At least, they think they do.

She is still down, but more of herself. She bends and moves with the wind more. She invites him to dinner. She gets him to try food and drinks.

She still has her moments of tears. They come in like a summer rain. Warm and hot. But leave just as quickly. She gives more smiles the next day.

He still holds her when she cries. But it is rare when he does. It’s bittersweet for him. He is happy her pieces are sticking back together. But the selfish part of him, the part he doesn’t like to acknowledge, mourns. He mourns at not being able to hold her. To not feel her body against his.

But he shuts it out and tells it to shut up when it scratches at the door. It does not need to hold her. She is gaining her strength back on her own.

Then, one day, her sun fully comes out. It blinds him. It shines off his beskar and fills his world with warmth and light.

She was laughing and chattering away with him (more like at him) while working on a droid. It was like nothing touched her. It was like she didn’t have those dark moments.

She was telling him about her trip to the market that week. How the old man on the corner was causing problems for the gangs. He ducked and maneuvered his way out of danger, then just disappeared.

He figured the old man was a Jedi like his son, but he didn’t feel the need to comment. She didn’t know much about him, and he didn’t know much about her. It was a fine line they walked. Never giving details of personal things in their lives, yet growing closer with every story and interaction.

But that sunshine was only for a moment. Then the clouds covered the sun again.

Whatever she remembered made her dim and sad. But she seemed to cast out the thought and continued to chat with him. Just less enthusiastically.

Once she seems like she’s done talking with him, he grabs his gun. He mutters something about hunting and leaves.

She waves goodbye and wishes him luck.

….

It is dusk when he returns to the hangar. He spent the day tracking animals to keep his senses sharp.

But the lights are still on, and he sees her silhouette in the warmth. She’s holding a cup. It makes something in him sigh.

His smile is hidden as he walks into the glow.

—

It has been months since he’s seen her.

He has no reason to go to her. No quarries are over there at the moment. The nano computer calculates jumps that are farther away from her than he wants.

His world is cold now; he isn’t orbiting her warmth. He tried to stay as long as he could. But Karga was getting suspicious, and so was she. So he had to leave.

She was always a little sad when he left. But this time, it looked like she was going to cry. He hated that he was the reason for her tears, but he had to complete the job.

But the next pucks he received were far away from her. He told her so when she actually used the emergency comm to ask him how he was. She was sad about that. But she didn’t tell him; he could tell by her voice. But she chattered about her day like the sadness didn’t exist. She fell asleep talking with him. But he didn’t mind. He thought it was cute. He could hear her tiny snores through it, and it felt like she was with him, sleeping in his cot while he stared at the stars.

—

When he did see the sun again, it was so bright. It was like how the sun comes out after a terrible storm. Blindingly bright and like it had always been there.

He never found out what happened to make her dark and sad, but that didn’t matter. He was there when she needed him, and he was happy she needed him. It fed his selfish desires.

She greeted him with a smile and a hug. It threw him off. Normally, she would meet him at the bottom of the ramp and ask him if he had been brought back by their thrilling conversations. But she was here, at the hull, with her arms wrapped around him. His arms automatically wrapped themselves around her. The selfish part of him purred in delight. He was holding the sun again.

She broke the hug with an apology and started to ask him how he was. He noticed the blush that crept along her face.

After explaining the quarry he was after, they walked off the ship and into her house. She rambled about this new food she had while he stared with a hidden smile.

….

That night, when he came back starving and quarry-less, she invited him to dinner. He awkwardly sat on a chair at the table. Her back was to his, and the blinds and curtains were fully drawn. And his helmet was off.

He felt exposed like this. Paranoid someone would somehow pull back the blinds and curtains and see him. He couldn’t risk people knowing his face. But he knew that couldn’t happen, and she would never look.

She never asked him what he looked like or tried to take off his helmet. It was a level of trust only she shared with him.

As he ate, she talked about nothing and everything. About the awful clients she dealt with, her lovely neighbors, and the new client who had been there for over a week. Then she tittered into silence. She never asked him to speak or expected him to comment on anything. She knew he was listening.

Then, once he finished and his helmet was on, she did something he never thought she would do.

She looked down at him with something in her eyes that he did not dare to name. That was never for him, even though he wanted it more than anything. And he wanted her to freely give it to him more than anything. But he was terrified of it. He was terrified of what it meant for her. Who would be after her if she was his and he was (officially) hers? What kind of danger would he put her in? What if she realizes how much of a monster he is?

But the look in her eyes made the fear go away.

She leaned down and gently pressed her head to his helmet. Her eyes were closed, and his were wide, staring at her, completely frozen. The keldabe kiss she didn’t know she initiated terrified him and made him nervous to move.

“Thank you for being here for me,” she whispered. He could almost feel the heat of her breath. It was right there, yet out of reach.

She slowly started to move away. Looking relieved that she finally said something she wanted to say for months. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and hold her, but his arms wouldn’t move. He was trapped as he watched the sun start to leave.

Until his arms started to move and he wrapped a hand around her wrist. He noticed her flinch and apologized before letting it go. But she stayed still, letting him say what he needed to.

“Traync, don’t thank me for that.”

“But you didn’t have to do that, so I wanted to thank you.” Her small but determined voice said.

“No, I wanted to do that. And I would do it again.” Her eyes were surprised at that.

“But—”

“No butts. Only answer this: Do you know what you just did?” He asked. His voice was not upset or hurt.

“A uh forehead squish? I’m sorry, I went too far—”

“No, you did not.”

“But why—”

“You kissed me.” A blush spread on her face

“I did?”

“Mhm, it’s called a keldabe kiss. It’s how we kiss sometimes.” He added.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know and—”

“Stop apologizing for that sweet pea. But do apologize for not doing it for real.” The befuddlement on her face quickly turned into a sheepish laugh and smile.

“But how am I supposed to do that? You can’t remove your helmet.”

“Like this,” he responded, covering her eyes with one hand, then using the other to lift his helmet. She stayed perfectly still as he leaned in. He could feel her eyes squeezing shut under his glove. She could feel his breath on her lips. Then all thoughts did not exist when their lips met.

The sun was his, and he would be a fool to let her go.