Chapter Text
When Heert and Dedra step inside the dark pub, they're greeted by a raspy male voice singing along to a bouncy, acoustic riff. He spots the last empty high top along the wall towards the back and rushes over to claim it, nearly knocking over someone's drink in the process. Dedra sighs with embarrassment as he frantically waves her over, as if she's lost sight of him in a large concert venue rather than in a small, dingy bar. With this place being so unexpectedly close to campus, she can only hope it's full of strangers.
"Meero! Over here," he whisper-screams.
He couldn't have been more accurate when he described this place as a hole-in-the-wall, with them having had to go down a narrow alleyway to find the entrance. The smell of tabac and chips hang in the air like they came with the place and the wooden floors groan loudly under her boots. The bar stool wobbles as she tries to sit, and though she's a waif of a thing, she fears it'll collapse at any moment. Heert's too busy gawking at the band to notice.
"Which one is he?" Dedra asks.
Heert sits sideways in the stool closest to the makeshift stage with his back against the wall. He turns his head slightly to cast his voice towards her. "The hot one, duh."
She supposes all three men under the spotlight could be considered as such, so she draws a line along his gaze and connects it to the one establishing the rhythm by slapping his palms against a box. Ever since meeting these guys at a caf hut at the beginning of the semester, Heert would come out to this bar to watch them play. With her scholarship requirement to remain in the top 5% of her class, Dedra couldn't take him up on his incessant invitations to come "see this gorgeous musician" until tonight, now that classes were officially done.
Just then, a server approaches them in her peripheral vision. "Hey Heert, long time no see." His playful tone suggests otherwise and Dedra recalls Heert skipping out on their scheduled study session a few Fridays ago before their Imperial Laws and Regulations final.
Heert gestures in her direction. "Look who finally made it out tonight. This is Dedra."
The server turns to face her. "He's been whining how his best friend never comes here with him." He extends his hand. "Syril Karn."
"Dedra Meero," she replies, meeting his hand with hers. His touch is warm and his eyes are bright and blue, as blue as the daytime sky would be if Coruscant didn't have so much air pollution. It doesn't go unnoticed that his hand lingers a moment too long, as if he's been waiting to meet her.
"I told Karn that you two would get on well," Heert says. "You both have this--" he draws circles in the air between them "--sort of intense vibe going on."
Syril and Dedra exchange confused looks.
"All good, of course," Heert attempts to clarify, though it does little to help. Dedra frowns and shoots him a skeptical look
"Alright," Syril chuckles, shrugging it off. "I'm guessing you'll want your usual. Dedra, what can I get you?"
"Gin and tonic," she replies. Syril nods and leaves to grab their drinks.
Dedra smacks Heert on the arm and he pulls an exaggerated face of hurt. "Don't talk about me to people I don't know."
"I only ever complain that you're too busy studying to join me. Karn always sympathizes with you anyway."
Syril returns a few minutes later with a vibrant pink monstrosity for Heert and a glass of clear liquid with a jun-lime wedge. "We just got this Elderflower liqueur from Serenno that's excellent," he says upon setting Dedra's drink down. "I had them add it in, let me know what you think."
Mildly annoyed at his audacity to customise her drink without permission, Dedra obliges and takes a sip. She's surprised to find it refreshing, the floral taste light but balanced with the dry gin.
She gives a nod of approval, eliciting a grin from Syril. "I thought you might like it. Can I get you both any food? The kitchen will close in half an hour."
Heert ignores him, too enamoured with the performers, while Dedra shakes her head.
"Let me know if you change your mind," Syril says, before leaving to check on other tables.
Dedra looks at the chrono on her wrist and it reads 21:30 on the dot. "This night seems more for you than for us," she mutters with a sigh.
Gesturing to the band, Heert exclaims, "The music is lively! Fit for the occasion." He raises his glass and puts a hand on hers with exaggerated sentimentality. "To us, Heert and Meero, the Academy's finest. And to Niamos!" Dedra lifts her drink to meet his with a soft klink.
"Besides, your idea of celebrating our graduation would be to clean out our dorms."
"At least it wouldn't be under the pretense of celebrating when you're really just hoping to sleep with a guy before we leave."
Heert opens his mouth to argue but one raise of her eyebrows silences him. He raises his glass in a touché.
The word celebrate was rare in Dedra's vocabulary. There wasn't much to celebrate throughout her life. Birthdays and the usual life milestones passed almost unnoticed in the Kinderblock she was raised in. Perhaps the most significant cause for celebration was the scholarship she received to attend the Imperial Academy with everything paid for, a monthly stipend, and an offer of employment with the Imperial Security Bureau upon graduation, provided she maintain all scholarship stipulations. She had celebrated then by leaving her Kinderblock room spotless and sterile. No one could pity her as the orphaned girl if she erased all traces of her from that place.
Heert was right, she wouldn't know how to celebrate if she tried.
Dedra nurses her drink throughout the remainder of the set. The singer introduces their last song with a clear nod to Heert. She can see him blushing in the dim light.
"He's their number one fan here," comes Syril's voice beside her. "I only ever see him when these guys come play."
The image of Heert as a groupie rather than an Imperial Academy graduate pulls Dedra's lips upwards.
He spots her empty glass. "Can I get you another?" She nods appreciatively and Syril clears the table.
The band ends their set to scattered applause. Heert turns to Dedra and with a serious look, takes her hands in his. "Dedra," he starts, beseeching her with big eyes like he's about to solicit donations to feed stray tookas.
"It's fine," she interrupts, anticipating all along this is how the night would go. "Go spend time with him."
Heert squeezes her hands with giddiness. "I'll still pick you up for our transport tomorrow."
"Don't be late." Heert kisses her on the cheek before bouncing off to greet the band. She watches as he talks to each member, giving special attention to who she assumes is their drummer. Though he's ditched her on their last night in Coruscant, she feels genuinely happy for him. Sighing with contentment, she plans the remainder of her evening: finish her drink, return to the peace of her own space alone, and prepare to embark on her next chapter.
Syril approaches the table with two drinks: her next round and a pint of dark beer for himself. "May I? I didn't want to see you drinking alone."
Dedra motions for him to sit and he sets her drink down.
"So Heert seems like a great friend," he says, observing Heert animatedly talking with the band on the opposite side of the pub.
She lets out a small laugh. "As far as best friends go, he's the worst." She brings the glass to her lips. "You're allowed to drink with customers on your shift?"
"Normally no, but as of five minutes ago, I no longer work here." He registers her confusion and explains, "They let me finish my shift early as a parting gift for graduating."
"Congratulations. And you marked the occasion by working?"
"I'm having a drink with you right now, aren't I?" He smirks as he tips his glass to her. An unexpected warmth blooms on her cheeks.
"Heert was saying a few weeks ago that you both are done as well?" Dedra nods, grateful for the shift in topic.
Dedra tells him about how she and Heert graduated from the Imperial Academy last week and will be off to Niamos in the morning for their first post as part of the ISB's Enforcement branch. She notes that although the Outer Rim isn't her preference, they must complete two assigned rotations for two years each, before they have a say in their post assignments. In turn, Syril relates how he's finally finished his undergraduate degree, having had to drop to a part-time status in the past year in order to pickup more work hours to afford tuition. He starts his new audit job at GMPK in a few days, which Dedra recognises as one of the four largest accounting firms on Coruscant.
She listens as he shares how he hopes that with a steady job, he'll be able to move into his own place, having lived with his oppressive mother longer than what he wanted. She tries to understand his description of the guilt that kept him from moving out, since the job of raising him fell to his mother when his father abandoned them both when he was a baby. She can relate when he admits almost ruefully that during his graduation ceremony, his mother was the only family member in attendance - that even his distant Uncle Harlo, who had provided the occasional financial assistance growing up, did not make an appearance.
She's surprised to find herself wanting to thread a connection with him, offering that her graduation ceremony invitations went unsent because she had no family to invite, though she doesn't elaborate and her tone on the matter tells Syril not to inquire. She catches his fleeting look of pity and tells him not to bother, that it's just a fact about her as much as the fact that she has blonde hair.
Maybe it's the drink, but there's something about Syril Karn that disarms her. Perhaps it's the dulcet tone of his voice or the sincerity in his bright eyes that elicits a sense of trust. Or the facility and honesty in which he so willingly tells her about himself - his family and hope for the future - that lowers her guard.
She's so caught up in their conversation that she doesn't notice Heert look back at her before leaving the pub with the band. When her chrono reflects that it's past 23:00 and she remarks that she'd better get going, Dedra doesn't resist Syril's offer to walk her home.
*****
"So, Dedra, what does one do at the Imperial Academy besides study?" Syril asks as they pass the neon lights of late night caf huts and convenience marts.
"Well, Syril, one participates in an Academy extracurricular as mandated." Anticipating his follow-up question, she adds, "I chose the choir."
"You sing?"
She shrugs. "I'm a decent soprano. Choir also required the least commitment of resources on my part. I only had to show up and sing." Syril gives her a look of understanding, knowing full well the need for financial prudence.
The late spring evening is unusually cool tonight and the material of Dedra's long sleeve shirt is proving too thin against the temperature. She wraps her arms around herself and is about to ask Syril the same when she sees him removing his jacket.
"Here," he offers.
Instinct has her almost pull away but if she's honest, she could use the added warmth. She decides to accept and he places the jacket on her shoulders, wrapping her in the smell of his cologne - woody but fresh and clean.
"Thanks," she says, quietly grateful. "And you? What does one do at university besides accounting?"
"I was an editor at our literary journal for a bit. Contributed some poetry on occasion as well. It was certainly a needed reprieve from my courses."
Dedra looks over at him as they wait to cross a street. His dark auburn curls bounce in the night breeze and she can't help but find it endearing. "I know I don't know you, but that seems fitting."
"Oh yeah? What makes you say that?" he asks lightly.
"You seem to wear your heart on your sleeve."
"Is that...bad?"
"In my line of work, probably," she replies plainly.
"Oh." She notices when Syril's shoulders sink almost imperceptibly.
"But on a personal level, no - I don't think it's a bad thing," she admits honestly, though she wouldn't know the first thing about living emotionally unguarded.
He perks up then and gives a small smile. They cross to the other side and come to a clear demarcation of pristine walkways running parallel to a brutalist building ten floors high.
"We're nearly there," Dedra says as familiar navy and white signage reading Section 900 comes into view. "I'm in Section 910."
"This is the edge of campus," she adds, noticing Syril scanning their surroundings. "This block of housing is reserved for senior cadets." They pass Section 902. "Heert is in this one."
"How fortunate that you'll both be at your first post together," Syril remarks.
"It is," she agrees. Dedra doesn't divulge that she benefits from her friendship to Heert, with him being a son of the Heert family, one of the Academy's most loyal private donors. As such, he had a bit more say in his post assignment when he expressed his desire to be at the beach with friends. Regardless, it wouldn't have mattered to her where she ended up as long as it meant escaping Coruscant for a while, even if it was on the Outer Rim.
Section 906 appears. "I've never been to Niamos. Actually, I've never been off Coruscant," Syril admits wistfully, glancing ahead at the distant air traffic above.
"Me neither," Dedra says.
"You're from here, then?"
An unbidden memory of two officers hauling away a man and a woman flashes before her. It's a memory that's haunted her over the years, but the sting of it has dulled considerably. It doesn't prompt the tears that it used to when she was a young child. Here is all she's ever known.
"I am. Though it's never quite felt like home," she replies, surprised by her own admission.
"I know what you mean," Syril says softly.
Dedra looks up to find his eyes on her and she believes him. His azure eyes, though tender, are unflinching in his gaze, like he's searching for something in her that she doesn't know is there. In spite of the cool breeze, she feels that warming in her cheeks again. She wills her eyes to stay locked on his, desperately trying to ignore the sudden urge to look at his lips.
She doesn't realise that they've arrived at her building section until she hears the buzz of the door and someone shuffles past them.
"This is me," Dedra remarks, fishing her key fob out of her pocket. "I won't let Heert forget that he practically abandoned me to a stranger on my last evening."
Syril laughs. "He was right when he said we'd get on well. I like spending time with you."
"Same here," she hears herself saying. The corners of her mouth tug upwards of their own accord.
"Could I--" A loud ring emits from his pocket. Syril takes one look at the caller and groans. "It's my mother." He looks at his comlink, torn between answering the call and enduring the consequences of ignoring it.
Dedra decides for him. "It's getting late, she's probably worried about you," she says, relieved for the distraction. "Good night, Syril."
"Right. Good night."
She presses the key fob to the scanner and opens the door upon seeing it flash green. She looks back at him with a small smile and he raises his hand to bid her farewell before she steps inside.
Her feet carry her down the hallway and instead of going into the lift, she takes the five flights of stairs up to her dorm. Once inside, she leans against the door, breathing hard from the ascent and from something else - the awareness of a blooming feeling in her gut with Syril Karn at the center. She catches a whiff of cedarwood and realises she's still wearing his jacket.
*****
Dedra laces up her boots, completing her all black cadet uniform. This'll be the last time she wears it before trading it in for an ISB Enforcement uniform once she reports to Niamos. Picking up her duffel bag, she gives one last look at her dorm and lets out a breath she feels like she's been holding since her first day at the Academy. She shuts the door with pride, knowing she's another step away from the orphaned Kinderblock girl and one step closer to making something of herself.
The chrono on her wrist blinks 8:22. Heert will arrive in 8 minutes to take them to the transport bound for Niamos. She reads his latest message once more as the lift descends to the ground floor. Kriff, I have so much to tell you on the ride over. She shakes her head in amusement at how they even became friends.
She opens the door into the pale yellow sunlight and stops in her tracks when a familiar face turns around.
"Syril?"
"Dedra! I was hoping to catch you before you left."
"Have you been waiting out here?" She looks around, incredulous.
He nods. "I'm relieved I didn't miss you. I couldn't remember if you said you were leaving at 8 or 9."
Dedra opens her mouth but nothing comes out. The thought of him waking early, remembering her section number, and waiting for her out here renders her speechless.
"I wanted to ask you last night... I meant it when I said I enjoyed spending time with you. I know you'll be off world for a while but I was wondering if we could stay in touch?" His eyes are lighter in the daylight and so are his curls. Chestnut brown, she concludes.
Ordinarily, such a bold request would be met with suspicion, then ultimately rejection. But perhaps it's the dawning of a new chapter in a new planet that bolsters her. And if she's honest, his company surprisingly wasn't terrible... It was almost enjoyable, even. She'll be far in the Outer Rim and if things turn sour, well, that's what the block button is for. What did she have to lose?
"I'd like that," Dedra replies.
Grinning, Syril pulls out his comlink and she gives her number. Buzzes coming from both of their devices confirm the exchange of information.
"Actually, it's good you came," Dedra says as she sets her bag down. She unzips it and pulls out his jacket. "I was going to find a way to have this shipped back to you."
His fingers brush hers as he takes it from her grasp. They tingle when he pulls away.
Just then, a speeder glides up and honks. "Good morning to the two of you," Heert announces, eyeing them suspiciously as he steps out of the vehicle.
"He walked me home last night after you left, remember?" Dedra throws back.
"Uh-huh, and he's seeing you off this early in the morning."
She rolls her eyes and changes the subject. "Let's get going." Syril reaches for her duffel bag but Dedra stops him, motioning for Heert to pick it up instead. With a groan, he trudges to her bag and dramatically hoists it into the speeder.
"Good bye Karn, come visit us in Niamos!" Heert exclaims with a wave as he climbs back into driver's seat. Syril walks Dedra to the passenger's side.
"You should come visit," she says.
"I will," he promises as he opens the door.
"Take care, Syril."
"Good luck, Dedra," he says with a smile.
Once the door is shut, Heert turns to her. "So are you going to tell me what really happened?"
She shakes her head. "Just drive." As the speeder pulls forward, she spots Syril in the side mirror, watching them drive off.