Star Crossed

Crumbling down

I wasn't surprised by the knock at the door. Actually, I was rather relieved, because Galen had seemed more subdued than usual this past week and not visited once. My attempts to bring him out of his shell had been brushed off rather abruptly, so after the second try, I just assumed his mind was too busy formulating a plan and had left him to his devices.

I authorised the door to swish open by vocal command, and stood to greet my friend. The dim light of my quarters – I liked to keep my place intimate at night – pained at covering the dark circles under Galen's eyes. It took just one look at his face for my blood to run cold. He looked ... aghast. Totally lost, and just about to walk out the door and jump into the abyss. I rushed to pull him inside by the sleeve, and popped my head out to check that the corridor was deserted. No one in sight. Good.

The door closed at my command, and I pushed the tall doctor to the bed. He sank like a rock, causing the hinges to cringe under his weight. His hands came up, encasing his head in a vice grip, long fingers grasping at his brownish hair, nearly tearing it apart. His whole frame trembled and I gasped; I'd never seen him so defeated, even the day Lyra died. I knelt before him, trying to find his face. Fat drops – tears – fell before my very eyes, causing my chest to tighten in fear.

What had happened?

— "Galen... Galen, what's wrong?"

Nothing, nothing but his shaking form and more tears than ran down the bridge of his nose and landed on my sleeve. Gently, my hands settled on his forearms, trying to reach him through touch, but he was too far gone.

— "Galen, please."

His head shot up so suddenly that he nearly head butted me. Tear tracks marred his face, his eyes red, irises lost in another world. The agony written on his face was almost too much to bear, and I felt my breath catch. Galen slid to his knees before me, his legs intertwining with mine on the duracrete floor. Despair. Utter and total despair. He was as fragile as a leaf in the autumn wind, so close to break away from the tree and get destroyed.

I reached for him instinctively, my arms winding around his broad shoulders, pulling him against my chest in a mothering move. And, as I conveyed my support, he eventually let go and broke down sobbing earnestly. His body sagged, taking us to the floor, his frame racked with heart-wrenching shivers, his sadness so powerful that I couldn't prevent tears from welling in my eyes.

— "I abandoned her, my stardust," he rasped.

It was the first time someone trusted the cold, haughty Elya to break down in her arms. And despite the despair, over the immense and unbreakable agony that poured out of him, I felt proud to be the one he had turned to.

So I tightened my hold, and let this great man, this legend overflow my heart with anguish. His mumbled words slowly became more intelligible, and I eventually understood that today, Jyn Erso has turned 10 years old. Without a father, without a mother on that important birthday. Lost, the gods knew where, in the galaxy with the empire on her tracks.

It took a while for Glen to let go and I... I certainly didn't want him to. Human contact, after all those years ignoring emotion, was an oddity in my life. But somehow, it felt good to crush him to my chest. I felt ... more complete, by this simple thing, than when my mind grasped an impossible theory.

Eventually, though, he regained his composure. Sadness still danced in his eyes, a pure wave of agony that wouldn't be easily swept away. But at least, he seemed to regain control over his body for he straightened.

— "I'm sorry," he eventually said, passing a hand through his messy strands. "I..."

— "It's alright, Galen. This is what friends are for."