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It had been a long time since Vel had had a reason to wake before her alarm. Her body had slowly lost all those war time jitters. There were no more morning drills or emergency sirens to worry about. And the nightmares, well. She still had them. Sometimes. But she’d started to make peace with that. And it helped that these days there was a warm body beside her, to remind her she was alive. That they were alive.
Even though—it was that beloved other body jostling her shoulder now.
“Vel?”
Vel groaned and tried twisting into the blankets, as if that might buy her a few more precious minutes.
“Baby, I’m tired.”
That was an understatement. She’d forgotten what this felt like—being weighed down by all the revnog she’d had. And all the emotional turmoil that had been triggered as she drank it with their old friends. She’d forgotten too, just how loud the jungle was. It had taken her ages to fall asleep—it felt like she’d only closed her eyes a few minutes ago.
“I know, I am too.” A soft voice murmured close to her ear. And she felt a kiss placed on her shoulder by way of apology. “But I need you to get up.”
Vel let her body relax—show that she was listening.
“I mean, a few more of those and I could maybe be persuaded—” She tried to draw out the words, to make them a little flirty—but she was too tired and yawned halfway through.
She didn’t think Kleya minded though. Because she laughed—and it was a sound Vel had always loved.
But she was a little annoyed that it sounded so bright in this dark room. That it was another thing trying to force her out of slumber.
“Come on.” Kleya shoved again at Vel’s shoulder, “I—I want to show you something.”
Vel heaved a dramatic sigh and groaned as she sat up. Her body creaked as she reached blindly for her clothes, as if to add insult to injury. As if to remind her that she wasn’t as young as she had been the last time they’d walked these paths. Or seen Yavin Prime grace these skies.
“I can’t see my boots.” Vel whined. Though, if she were honest, she wasn’t even trying very hard to scan the floor. They’d stumbled in from the party still very tipsy. And Kleya always got handsy when she was tipsy. Or, Vel supposed, she didn’t always need that excuse. Vel hadn’t seen her consume a single drop of alcohol on their wedding day—and it was as if she’d been physically unable to keep her hands to herself, even with so many of their friends and family around them.
But anyway, the point was—she was not at all responsible for where her items of clothing had landed before they’d tumbled into bed. She only knew that in that bright chamber full of queens and dignitaries, all come to celebrate the grand opening of Skywalker’s Jedi Academy—Kleya had outshone them all. In a tasteful sapphire blue gown that had sparkled like stars. And Vel had taken her time easing it down her body last night, fascinated by the way the fabric rippled like water. She’d even folded it over the back of a chair.
It was amazing the little things she could remember, like common courtesy, when she was actually awake.
“Here, I’ll help you, sweetheart.”
Vel heard some shuffling around the small space and then a shadow planted itself in front of her—Kleya, she realized a moment later, when she felt Kleya’s strong fingers tapping her knee and coaxing her to lift one leg, so she could shove on one boot.
Vel shivered a little. And yawned.
“Is it far? I mean—we’re supposed to meet Mon for breakfast. And I need to ask Bix about—”
Vel was cut off by plush lips slotting over her own. And for a moment, she sighed and melted into it. Forgetting that she was supposed to be grumpy at having been awoken at such an ungodly hour.
“I promise it’s not far.” Kleya whispered, her lips still just millimeters from Vel’s own. And Vel was tempted to tilt her chin and not so subtly ask if they could maybe go for another round first. Seeing as her blood was pumping a lot faster now.
It would certainly wake her up faster.
But there was something in Kleya’s voice, that held Vel back. She was—curious. As to what in the galaxy could have possessed Kleya to wake her like this, after the long day of celebrations and formal toasts and the even longer night of dancing and chasing after all of the little ones. Bix’s daughter, who had Cassian’s swagger. Wilmon and Dreena’s son. And Han and Leia’s brood. Vel had lost track of how of many of them there were. And of course, little Ben. Mara had tried her best to keep him entertained while Luke waxed poetic up on the dais about never forgetting the sacrifices that had been made to get them this far and how reclaiming the Yavin Temple was a symbol of rebirth and a testament to the strong foundations of the New Republic growing from the shoulders of the old Alliance—or something like that. Vel had mostly been stealing looks at Kleya in that dress while he talked—there had been a slit up the skirt that had given her a perfect vision of her left leg and thigh. And she’d been too focused on that to really even notice the demonstration he gave with his little group of students. The first new Jedi in a generation. They’d done something spectacular, Vel was sure. Some great Jedi levitation trick to reveal the mural of names—all of the rebels they’d lost in the battle of Yavin. Though Vel did remember he’d lamented that there were even more that they would never know. Many more who had helped their cause. And he’d asked for a moment of stillness. Which was when Kleya had finally caught Vel’s eye and raised an eyebrow at her as if to scold her, though her lips had simultaneously turned up in a knowing smile. As if she knew exactly what had got Vel so distracted.
Vel had been to plenty of ceremonies with similar aims since the fall of the Empire. And at first—each one had cut deeper than the last. Seeing their names carved in stone, or painted on canvas, sometimes glowing in a holodisplay—it always made her chest tight. Made her want to turn tail and run.
But just like with the nightmares—Kleya had been helping her find a way through it. The grief was always there. But. Kleya knew what that was like. And it was—incredibly cathartic. Not having to hide it from her. It just—made it more bearable. Having Kleya’s hand to hold while they walked through those museum halls or had to listen to the newly elected Senators mispronounce the names of the places where the galaxy’s fate had been decided.
None of them had been invited to this little reunion. For which Vel was very grateful.
“All set.” Kleya tapped the toe of Vel’s other boot before standing gracefully. And Vel allowed herself to be tugged upright as well.
“Please tell me we’re coming right back here to get some actual sleep.” Vel groused as she tugged on her jacket. She hissed and staggered back when a bright light flashed into her eyes.
“Sorry.” Her wife’s smug voice taunted from the doorway, “I can’t make any such promises. Now, stay close to me.”
There were birds already singing, as they stepped out into the night. And of course, a cacophony coming from the trees. But the campsite where they and all the other guests had been staying, in temporary shelters right there on the tarmac where they used to scramble their X-wings—was still so peaceful and still. So quiet.
When they’d evacuated Yavin, they’d left in a rush—in bursts. Having to find breaks in the Imperial blockade. And there had been a lot of confusion. And chaos. Vel couldn’t even remember when exactly she’d decided that she wasn’t going to let go of Kleya—only that at some point Kleya had made that decision too. And they’d refused to leave until they could go together.
And of course. They’d repeated that pattern. Over and over again. Wherever the fight took them. Until that second Death Star blew into a million little pieces--just as beautifully as the first had done. And suddenly the fight was over.
And they still found ways to choose each other.
“This way.” Kleya called. And, as she had now for over ten years, Vel followed.
She followed her up the reconstructed path right up to majestic Temple. The path had been lined with lights and streamers. And to the right there was a garden. With bubbling fountains. A memory garden, Luke Skywalker had called it. And Vel had tried not to cry when Bix tossed one of those smooth stones from the path into the fountain. And whispered Cassian’s name.
Kleya didn’t turn to head toward the garden though. She didn’t deviate at all. She kept a brisk pace, and kept her lantern trained dead ahead as she led Vel right passed the front entrance of the Temple, where several cloaked figures stood silently.
Vel didn’t know where exactly they’d come from. But they’d stayed on the fringes during the celebration. Even when Luke smiled and waved, welcoming them in. Mon had whispered rapidly to Kleya when they’d first arrived. But Vel had been too preoccupied to remember to ask her about it.
She would someday, she supposed. But tonight, she just nodded in their direction. And walked a little faster—so she could slip her hand into Kleya’s.
“You’ve got to be joking.” Vel groaned, when she realized they were headed to the stairs—the ones carved into the side of the temple. A windy, steep path.
Kleya wanted to climb all the way to the fucking top.
“Baby, it’s too early for this.”
Kleya huffed and turned back to Vel—her eyes were mesmerizing in the dark. And Vel shuddered when Kleya stepping into her and kissed her again. More solidly this time—and with tongue.
“For me?” She even batted her eyelashes a little.
Which was a cruel trick to play when Vel was both tired and hung over. She swore as she rolled up her sleeves and crossed over to that rickety death trap--the ladder they had to use to get to the first level.
“Fine. But we are catching a ride with Mon later so that we can sleep the whole way home.”
The way Kleya smiled at her was enough to lift her spirits a little. And it wasn’t as if she had to worry about the stability of the ancient stones. Now that Skywalker and his acolytes had rebuilt so much of it. And used their Jedi magic to protect it or whatever. And actually, with Kleya holding the light to show her where to step, it wasn’t all that difficult for Vel to shimmy up the ladder. They were used to helping each other over hurdles like this, she supposed. It came almost instinctively now. And she turned without having to be told, to catch the lantern as Kleya threw it up to her. And took her turn pointing it at the next handhold over and over until Kleya had made it to the first platform.
It was actually an easy climb, once they got into a steady rhythm.
It was just that—it had been awhile. And Vel supposed she’d been getting a little complacent in retirement.
And she was huffing and puffing by the time they reached the top.
“Oh, God. I think I pulled something.” Vel gasped as she limped around the last central block. The pinnacle.
Kleya just swatted at Vel’s arm and pulled her gently down on the block beside her.
“You’re fine, come on. Sit with me.”
Vel complied. But only because it gave her one less thing to worry about as she sucked in air and tried to get her bearings.
“Does the air feel thin up here to you?”
Kleya huffed and threaded her arm through Vel’s.
“I didn’t realize I wore you out so completely last night. I’ll try to go easier on you next time.”
Vel sobered up immediately.
“No, no, you didn’t—I mean, baby, you know I’m never too tired for that. I was just teasing. And I would be ever so grateful, if you never ever ease up on me, I mean. That thing you did with your—”
“Oh shut up.”
Vel could taste Kleya’s smile in her kiss, and she wanted to savor it. It was even better than fresh kaf in the morning.
And Kleya seemed more than willing to indulge her.
By the time they pulled apart, there was a thin streak of gold on the horizon. And Kleya switched off her lantern.
“Is—this what you wanted to show me?” Vel asked, eyes trained on the black outline of the jungle trees against the slowly brightening sky.
Kleya nodded. And kept her arm threaded through Vel’s.
“I used to come up here a lot. When I still felt so lost.” Kleya murmured.
And Vel found herself casting back into her memories—when Kleya had first turned up on Yavin, Vel had felt lost too. She hadn’t known how to reckon with it all—all that she’d blamed Kleya for and all that she owed to her. Her heartbreak. And all that shared history--knowing that Kleya knew exactly where she hurt. And why. That she--couldn't hide it from her. It had been a little scary. To have her back in her life. At least at first.
“I used to watch all of the activity down below.” Kleya continued wistfully, “How everyone seemed to have a purpose, even if it seemed so chaotic. And try to find a pattern. Some sign that—it was all worth it. That it was—going to work.”
“And did you?” Vel asked quietly. There were banks of clouds going purple, as the golden light started to grow. And there were pinks now too. She admired the way those flaming colors got caught in Kleya’s hair.
Kleya shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. It usually made me more anxious, watching everyone run around. I could see a million things go wrong one morning. And somehow they found a million ways to work around it and keep going. And some days that was inspiring, and others it was exhausting. And made me think that it would just—never end.”
“It did though,” Vel reminded her gently, as she tugged her arm free so she could slide it more surely around her. And squeeze a little, “It did, Baby.”
Kleya nodded, though her expression was less than certain. “I know that. I do. I just—”
“You worry.” Vel finished slowly. “You worry that—this peace won’t last. That somehow—that evil that made the Empire will come back.”
Kleya’s eyes were wide. And they glistened with gratitude. As if—so glad that she hadn’t had to say it out loud herself.
Vel wrapped her other arm around Kleya and pulled her into a more secure embrace.
“It’s okay, Kleya. I—worry about that too. I think we all do.”
Kleya took a shuddering breath and her whole body trembled slightly.
“I want it to last, Vel.” She said it so quietly, if they’d been down below Vel was sure she wouldn’t have heard it with all the jungle creatures calling and the birds singing and the generators going.
But up here. It was quiet.
It was as if they’d stepped into a separate world—and everything below had gone small.
“I want to believe some things last forever. Even though I—am surrounded every day by reminders that nothing does unless you work very hard to preserve it."
Vel frowned slightly and found Kleya's hand--lifted it to her lips and kissed the band she wore. Identical to her own.
"I mean--I certainly believe some things last forever." She was teasing. In her marriage vows she'd admitted to never believing in anything quite so much as she believed in the strength of their love.
And she knew Kleya remembered that. Her eyes had gone soft.
Though she did huff a little again, "You know what I mean, Vel. I just—I want to believe that we’ve made something that will last. And that none of those children—will ever have to know the whole story. That they can believe that it was all something that happened a long, long time ago. That good always triumphs over evil and there’s nothing else to it.”
They’d talked about it before. About. Maybe starting a family. Though they were both—more than a little terrified about how that might change them. About whether the galaxy would ever be safe enough—for a child of their own.
But Vel couldn’t deny the way her heart had pounded when she’d watched Mara Jade hand off little Ben to Kleya, so she could go save Luke from making a fool of himself. Kleya had looked startled at first—she and Mara had exchanged more blasterfire than niceties over the years, but. Once she’d figured out how to support the baby’s head, she’d smiled down at him. And let him hold her finger.
And Vel had felt as if the whole jungle had gone very still. As if her own heart had skipped a few beats.
And Mon had given her one of those soft, knowing smiles as she lifted a flute of champagne like a private toast. To something not yet acknowledged, but--plain as day on Vel's face.
“I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to tell that version of the story convincingly enough.” Vel finally managed to say. “But I—want to believe it too. I want to believe that this peace will last for generations. I just—”
Vel faltered.
And Kleya gave her a tired smile.
“You worry?”
Vel nodded. It was never definitive. More like the tail of a shadow out the corner of her eye that disappeared when she turned her head to track it. But she’d gathered enough from Mon. From Solo and Skywalker. From plenty of others. That there were still Imperial holdouts resisting the New Republic at every turn. That they would probably be fighting them for years and years to come.
But she hated how crestfallen Kleya looked. So she nudged her shoulder.
“Hey, but at least today we have this.” She gestured with her chin. The horizon was all rosy gold and scarlet and blazing fire orange. And Vel felt warm all over when Kleya hummed and dropped her head on her shoulder.
“I do love this view.”
Vel squeezed her again. Just enough pressure to keep them pressed together. She wanted to stay like this forever.
“Thank you for sharing it with me.”