Star Wars One Shots

Together and Away, I'll Stay (Part Two)

The second chapter is here!! It's much bigger than the first, but Kamiko_1234 and I have been collaborating and exchanging ideas so often than it's to be expected... You can also read this story an ao3, we have posted it there as well!
Enjoy the pain!!

"Dice, Kayla needs help."

Thunder's voice booms from his comm, and Dice grabs his commlink fast enough that he bangs his head on the engine of the ship he was repairing.

"Thunder? What happened? Is she okay?" The words tumble out of his mouth in a hurried, muffled gasp, while he's already beginning to slip his armor-clad body out of the greasy engine room of the ship. He's unable to wiggle away from his worry, though, and the instinct he's been nursing ever since he met Kayla – his dad instinct, as Thunder and the rest of his squad call it – is ringing loudly enough he wants to teleport his way to his adiik. They've been on stand-by for a separatist attack, and Kayla has been awfully reckless these past months, since... since Licht.

"I don't know exactly, but she got a holocall a couple of minutes ago and now she's awfully quiet... We're in the mess hall. It's better if you come check her up yourself, she won't talk to any of us," Thunder explains hastily.

Dice is even more worried now. His squad has never failed to cheer Kayla up, especially after her loss, when she grew as close to them as Dice is with his brothers.

"I'm on my way right now, Thunder," he replies, and sprints out of the landing bay.

Logically, the rational part of his brain is trying to convince him, this shouldn't be something too grave. Kayla is in her teens, and she throws tantrums for the most trivial matters; once, she refused to exit her room for two days straight because her hair wouldn't stay flat on her head as she wanted, and she would probably still be in there if it weren't for Mohawk, their hair specialist, who supplied her with a special oil, which, according to him, "Scares the hair into shape."

Still, Licht's absence has been especially hard for Kayla. It's not evident most of the time; she still jokes around with the clones, judges Dice's undercut and jumps around on the battlefield, flinging her lightsaber like she was born for it. But he can tell the difference; he can make out the hesitancy of her laugh, the forcefulness of her half-hearted remarks, the unsteady grip she has on her Master's lightsaber, which she has been using since Licht left. His death emptied her, and as if that isn't enough, she is also in charge of the entire battalion.

Oh, if Dice could get his hands on the Jedi Master who decided that a thirteen-year-old is fit to do this – give orders to kill, attack, retreat – he would not be able to restrain himself, and kriffing murder won't look good on his resume.

Supposedly, a Jedi Knight would swoop in to take command and continue Kayla's training two weeks after Licht's loss. Supposedly, his adiik would commandeer only two battles, and then she would be free of the burden. But it has been four months, and the only help Kayla has gotten is Captain Ciryc's battle advice and Dice's tries at emotional support.

The doors of the mess hall sliding open interrupt Dice's thoughts, and he realizes he's been standing in front of them for an embarrassing period of time. The two shinnies who exit the room – Kurshi and Ruuk, Dice thinks their names are – look at him weirdly and hurry to move on the hallway to their barracks.

When Dice finally enters the hall, he spots Kayla immediately. She's sitting on a table in the middle of the room, picking idly at her food with a faraway look in her eyes. Mohawk and Thunder, who are sitting on the seats next to her, a tray of untouched standard portions in front of each of them, perk up when they see him, and gesture him closer.

Dice weaves his way around the mess tables to them. Kayla doesn't seem to notice him, and the closer he gets, the clearer he can see the hidden anxiety behind her eyes.