Ben sat in the corner of the tent, on the floor, huddled up as if hiding. Well, cowering would be a more accurate word, he thought to himself as he curled up tighter. He wasn’t letting anybody in. The nearby beeping sounded distant to him; he couldn’t bear to answer any of the messages that were piling up, the words flying past him. All from his mother, of course. About how she was always meaning to tell him, but could never find the right time.
The right time had never come about for twenty three years…? Surely there must have been opportunities for her to tell Ben. All that time… then again, when was the right time to find out that Darth Vader was your grandfather? Still, Ben felt as if the rug had been swept from beneath his feet. She should’ve told me herself, he thought. I shouldn’t have found out like this.
Suddenly it all made sense. That persistent voice in his head, the quiet but steadily growing darkness inside him, always an outsider. This was why. This whole time, Ben had assumed it was a character defect of some kind. He thought it had been all his fault for not being the perfect son. The messages from his mother continued to pile up. He trembled, but didn’t cry; after all, he wasn’t sure what this feeling was. Fear? Anger? Betrayal? A combination?
It was only when a message with a different voice came through that Ben’s weary eyes flickered up to the receiver. It was that voice that made his eyes start to sting. A shuddering sob threatened to escape him as he listened, especially when he heard the words “I love you, Ben.”
How could he possibly face Galya now that they both knew who he was related to…? Shuffling over, at first he just sent a read notice. Then, after sitting there on the floor in silence for far too long, Ben realised he didn’t want to be alone right now. With shaky hands, he decided to call her back, not ready to face his mother yet.
“Galya…?” His voice wavered pathetically, but Ben couldn’t bring himself to care right now. “Are… are you there?”
A fitful sleep had befallen her despite best efforts to stay awake. She dreamt of him, as she often did, close to, but never quite, real enough. Often the dream was a memory, her mind recalling with longing a moment she needed so terribly to temporarily quell her aching and unyielding yearning for the one she loved most of all. Curled with him under several blankets (city-planet girl, so unused to actual climate as she was when she visited him), fingertips tracing patterns and random formulas that came into her head on the bare skin of his back in the semidarkness. Eventually he’d sigh and shift so he was facing her, long arms winding around her middle, nose pressed into the smooth plane of skin just above her collarbone. Galya would drape an arm over him, fingers threading in his hair as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and they’d fall asleep like that. (When she was on Coruscant, just dreaming, she’d wake up, alone, and so sad….)
The voice, small and heartbreaking but clear through her receiver, startled her awake with a gasp, and she clambered to the end of her bed, opening her line as quickly as her sleep-addled reflexes could manage. “Yes–! I’m…I’m here. One second,” her senses sharpened as her grogginess passed, and she adjusted the levels on her transmitter. She’d tear this damn galaxy apart herself if interference dared to mess up this holo right now.
Still rubbing her eyes, she exhaled, relieved when she saw him. The flickery blue holo was a poor substitute, but it was something. “Hi, starshine.” A silly pet name she’d conjured up a long time ago. Galya tried to smile but oh, she could see the anguish in his eyes. It killed her she wasn’t there with him. She shouldn’t have left. That was so stupid of her. “Did you…talk to your mom?” She knew asking him if he was okay would be a moot point, because….he definitely wasn’t.
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