The Quarry

The Quarry - Part 19

"YOU KNOW, THERE HAS TO BE A BETTER WAY TO DO THIS!" Versa yelled over the wind.

"You said you wanted to get back to the ship fast. This is fast." Din chuckled from beneath his helmet.

Versa's arms were wrapped around his neck tightly and he pulled her closer to his body as they flew through the air, the jetpack on his back roaring. She spluttered as strands of her hair whipped into her mouth for the third time, and he grinned, trying to hold back a laugh. Rounding the treeline, the ship came into view, and Din landed near it, setting Versa down as she coughed and tried to smooth her hair, which was sticking up at odd angles.

"Could have warned me to put my hair up," she muttered.

He stepped forward, catching her chin. "Oh come on, I think it's quite becoming."

Versa shoved his arm down, stomping towards the ship, muttering. Din followed her, setting the spear and Darksaber back in their respective places in the hold before heading to the cockpit to start up the pre-flight sequence. Versa unloaded the food she'd carried with them and tossed the bedrolls they'd carried onto their bunks as the ship lifted from the ground. Striding to the cockpit, she leaned forward, resting her chin on Din's shoulder as they escaped the atmosphere.

"You remember how to get there?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do."

Her fingers trailed down his chest, and he reached up, grabbing one of her hands. "You ever go back?" she whispered.

"Nope. Didn't see a reason to. You?"

"No," she said quietly. "Was always worried it would hurt too much."

He squeezed her hand as he punched the hyperspace calculations in with his other hand. "Well, maybe this'll help create some new good memories."

She tucked her face into his shoulder, tugging his cloak down a bit to place a gentle kiss on the exposed skin of his neck. "I've got plenty of good memories there. That's what hurts."

Din reached up to tip his helmet back enough to bring her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. "Why don't you tell me about your favorite memory there?" he asked quietly.

Versa slid into the seat beside him, staring out the front viewport at some distant point. "I've got a few," she replied, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "My mother's singing while she cooked us breakfast in the mornings. That was always what woke me up. The way my father smelled after working in his shop, like grease and machining oil, and sometimes he'd come home with durasteel shavings in his beard." Her fingers absently picked at the edge of her shirt. "I remember when Jon was thirteen, he had mentioned how he thought voorpaks were cool and wanted one, so Mom helped me sew one for him. I stuffed it with hay and Dad carved the legs for me. I was so excited to give it to him, and he gave me a huge hug and picked me up and spun me around. It was as if I'd given him the real thing and not a poorly-constructed substitute." She laughed quietly, but Din could see tears threatening to spill over the edge of her eyelids. He reached across, squeezing her hand, and she met his eyes behind his visor.

"I loved running through the gardens with you. And I think my favorite memory with you was kissing you that night under the ashsap tree."

"I like that one too," he replied.

"You were shivering."

"It was chilly. And I was nervous."

"You didn't act nervous."

"I liked you. Of course I was nervous."

"Even then?"

"Even then, Vers." He ran his thumb over the back of her hand and she squeezed it.