Star Crossed

Lyra

Weeks passed, excruciating. Days after days, I watched warily the lines getting deeper on Elya's face, the circles growing darker, and her colour oscillate from green to white in the span of minutes. I couldn't help but notice how stiff her movements where as she tried to keep working, how exhausted she looked whenever she closed her eyes for a second.

What can I do for you?, I wrote on our little private sheet, hidden in the notebook.

Elya feigned to modify a set of schematics.

Minimize my moves, my stomach rolls.

I nodded briskly, not even sparing her a glance. Ignoring her was so difficult, but I kept my walls in place. At the corner of my vision, I watched Dr Gubacher's pitying look. Elya and the strange octopus had started having lunch together again, and I was strangely grateful for the support he showed her. Was he more sensitive to her emotions, or simply trying to be a good colleague ?

There was no jealousy from me; Elya and I communicated in clipped tones, careful not to look at each other. Careful to keep our relationship professional and cold. It was excruciating to have to control our every move, every word, every single glance.

I wanted to to shower her with kisses, to hug her and bring her to my room. To put my hands upon her shoulders and never let go. I wanted, so badly, to see that bump starting to show whenever she allowed her abs to relax. I knew she would keep a tight leash on them, and that, being a lean and muscular woman, she could probably hide it for a while.

Dropping a glass of water in front of her was the best I could do. Anything else, and our ploy would be uncovered. So I practiced the façade, being curtly polite, when my eyes tried to convey a thousand things. The joy to be a father anew, my fears to be inadequate, to fail at protecting her. My elation that a baby was about to be born out of us.

I killed myself to the task; the schedule wasn't impossible, but our main wildcard was Bodhi. I wasn't sure he would agree to help, and had no clue when he would return. I was in such an awful state, nightmares had returned and hours seemed to flee.

At night, the kybers didn't even have to keep me awake. Why was this baby coming now ? Was it forcing us to launch our plans of sabotage ? If we escaped now, could we convince the rebellion to find the unfinished battlestation, and destroy it before it even had a chance to work ? Would the exhaust port still be implemented ? Useful ?

Who cared, as long as the weapon disappeared in the annals of the worst idea ever implemented. Krennic would be livid... he deserved it a thousand times. Would I take pleasure in watching his crestfallen expression ?

I shook my head, face sinking in my hands. The truth watched me in the eye, even behind closed lids. This wasn't petty revenge; Krennic would die, probably by Vader's own hands. The weight of the guilt was slowly, but surely ebbing away. I had lost Orson Krennic a long time ago, the devoted friend turned into something else by the Empire. Orson was dead already, and the fact that he threatened, by his very presence, both Jyn, Elya and my future baby... well. It was just enough to shed my remorse.

Speaking of Director Orson Krennic, he was due to return tomorrow. My lips quirked, and I was glad that Elya wasn't here to watch that horrible expression upon my face. For I was about to give my friend the tongue lashing of the century, and enjoy it. All part of the ploy, of course, but it would settle my nerves.

Curiously, Orson didn't see it coming. Did he expect me to kowtow ? To tremble under his demands ? To bend under the threat of Lord Vader, just like he did ? I could feel how the Sith's deadline affected him; the only reason why I resisted the terror resided in that new life Elya and I had created. This baby allowed me more distance, it recalibrated my priorities. Gave me a reason to take them both out of there, and run after Jyn earlier that I should have.