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chapter twenty-eight: bloodlines
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    INDIRA STIFLES A YAWN into the steaming mug of tea in her hands, blinking blearily as she tries to chase off the remnants of sleep that still cling to her. Her dreams had been strange the night before, centered around an island somewhere far, far away. Everything about the vision had felt so real that Indira had nearly believed that she was there — cold breeze and salty spray kissing her cheeks — but she'd awoken in her own bed that morning the same as always; no island or ocean to be found. Yet for some reason she couldn't shake the feeling that the vision had been more than just an ordinary dream.

    "Tired?" Leia asks from her seat in the chair across from Indira, observing her niece's slumped posture and poorly hidden yawns.

    The younger woman nods sheepishly. "A bit," she admits, rubbing the back of her neck. "Didn't sleep well."

    Her aunt makes a knowing sound. "Bad dreams?"

    Indira shakes her head before pausing. "No, not exactly. My dreams were peaceful. I just feel ... tired. Like I was awake the whole time."

    Leia nods. "What did you see?"

    "An island," Indira says, picturing the rolling waves and sprawling cliffs she'd seen the night before. Her brow furrows slightly as she recalls it. "Lots of stairs. And... birds. Lots of little round birds, too."

    "And are you certain that this was just a dream?" Leia asks, arching a brow at her.

    Indira hesitates momentarily before shaking her head once more. "I think it might have been more than that."

    The smile Leia gives her is faint, but still present. "I thought the same."

    Indira frowns without meaning to, somewhat troubled by that prospect. She hadn't had any dreams of that nature since Starkiller base. The fact that her visions had chosen to return doesn't sit well with her. "What do they mean?" She asks, brow furrowed. "The dreams. Why do I have them?"

    Her aunt sighs deeply, folding her hands over her desk and leaning back in her seat. "How much do you know about the Force, Indira?"

    The technician purses her lips, thinking back on all she'd heard of the mystic energy force wielded by individuals like the Jedi and the Sith. For a long time, the Force had always seemed like nothing more than a children's story to her; some ancient relic from a time long passed. However, she knows better than to think such things now. She had seen too much to deny its very real existence. Regardless, the concept of the Force frightens her. For Indira, the concreteness of science and math and numbers has always been a comfort to her. The idea that there is some ethereal energy controlling the universe around her is deeply unsettling.

    She shrugs. "Not much," she admits, answering Leia's question. "I don't know much of anything at all, really."

    "No, I suppose you wouldn't," her aunt agrees, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "I'm no Jedi," she begins, voice sounding almost pained at the words, "but I'm no stranger to the Force either. It runs in my blood." She pauses for a moment, fixing her niece with an intense stare. "And yours."

    Indira nods silently, knowing this to be true. She had experienced the unexplainable — strange visions and premonitions and other bizarre phenomena. It was a testament to her parentage; the only piece of the father she had never known that she could find in herself.

    "Why do we have it?" Indira asks, curiosity getting the best of her. "Why us? Why not others?"

    Leia's brow furrows. "Luke tried to explain it to me, but I don't fully understand it myself," she admits. "It was once believed that the Force was passed down genetically, from parent to child. But in the years Luke spent gathering students to train at his temple, he began to think otherwise. Several of his students came from families where no apparent knowledge or abilities with the Force was present in their bloodline."

    "Is that why Rey can use the Force?" Indira asks, brow furrowed.

    Her aunt hesitates before she nods, though her mouth curls downwards slightly; as if she isn't sure that answer is true. "Finn, too," she adds as an afterthought. "If my suspicions are correct."

    Indira's eyes widen. "You think Finn has the Force?"

    The general shakes her head. "We all have the Force, Indira. Some of us just have more of it than others," she explains. "But for Finn to break free from the First Order's conditioning and to wield a lightsaber with no prior experience against a trained Force user? It seems like too much of a coincidence to me."

    "That makes sense," Indira mutters thoughtfully, remembering how Finn had held his own against Kylo Ren during their brief duel before he had ultimately overpowered him.

    "Both the Dark and Light sides of the Force run in our family," Leia continues. "Luke always chose to side with the Light." Her face darkens. "But there were others before him who chose otherwise; those who sided with darkness instead."

    Indira feels the air leave her lungs in a sharp exhale. "Like Darth Vader?"

    "My father," Leia confirms with some difficulty before pausing. "And your grandfather."

    The younger woman can't help but shudder at that, feeling a sense of unease settle over her. For all the goodness that belongs to the Skywalker name, Indira knows that it has caused suffering, too; more death and destruction than the galaxy has ever seen before. And now, that name belongs to her, too.

    "Is that why ..." Indira swallows thickly, voice trailing off for a moment before she can speak again. "Is that why Kylo Ren turned?"

    Leia's chin quivers slightly at the mention of her son, eyes turning glossy with unshed tears before she takes a deep breath. "My son was seduced to the Dark side by Snoke," she explains carefully, "but the history of our family pushed him further. Now, he idolizes Vader."

    Indira remembers the mask she'd seen on Ren's face and frowns. Whatever mystical power had driven Anakin Skywalker and Ben Solo to the depths of such evil and depravity is something she wants no part in. "Is that what I'll become?" She whispers, voice wavering slightly as she sets her mug down. "Is my blood ... bad?"

    Leia's eyes soften and she reaches across the desk to take Indira's hand, squeezing gently. "Is mine?" She asks, eyes searching Indira's face. "Is Rey or Finn's?"

    Indira shakes her head and Leia gives her a faint smile. "The Force isn't evil," the older woman says. "Those who choose to turn to the Dark side are not pre-destined to do so. Vader chose to take the path he took." Her eyes turn glossy once more. "My son chose to murder his father. The Force didn't compel them to do so; nor did their blood. There is always a choice. Perhaps it isn't always an easy one to make, but it is always there."

    "Have you ever been tempted?" Indira asks, unable to stop herself in spite of the personal nature of the question. "To ... turn?"

    Leia's smile turns wry. "Luke was always drawn towards the Light," her aunt admits. "He was the one meant to be a Jedi. I have too much anger, too much pride — traits that belong to the Dark. But I have never strayed from choosing to do what is right no matter how difficult times have been. And I never will."

    There is silence for a few moments before Indira speaks up once more. "So the dreams," she begins, brow furrowing. "They come from the Force?"

    Leia nods. "It's not a skill that all Force sensitive people have, but it is one I believe you inherited from your grandfather."

    Indira frowns. "But wasn't he evil?"

    "Not always," Leia sighs. "Before he was Darth Vader, he was Anakin Skywalker. It was Anakin who was influenced by dreams of the future — a future that he wanted to change, to save the life of our mother Padmé — and that is what ultimately led him to his downfall."

    "So I should do what — ignore them?" Indira asks, feeling more confused than before. "Pretend I don't have them?"

    "I didn't say that," her aunt replies mildly. "I just want to warn you to be careful. The future isn't set in stone, Indira. You cannot take the visions you have to mean more than they do." She pauses momentarily, face growing somber as she is engulfed in memories of the past. "Trying to prevent the future can be more disastrous than anything else."

    Sighing in frustration, Indira rubs her temples to relieve the dull ache that was starting to build in her head. It was too early in the morning for her to process all of ... this. It seemed as if the more answers she received, the more questions she wanted to ask.

Shaking her head, she sits up straighter in her chair before regarding the general once more. "You didn't ask me here to discuss our family history, did you?"

    Leia smiles at her ruefully. "No, I didn't," she agrees. "I have a job for you."

    "Exciting," Indira says, raising her eyebrows. "What kind of job?"

    "One of our bunkerbusters is stopping by the base," Leia explains, pulling up an image of the ship on her datapad and displaying it for Indira to see. "The Ninka, under command of Vice Admiral Amilyn Holdo, is slated to arrive within the next three days, but the ship needs an escort."

    Indira's nose wrinkles. "Please tell me that you don't want me to escort it."

    "No, not you," her aunt confirms. "Someone else would do that part of the job, but the ship needs an envoy to meet with the Vice Admiral before they reach D'Qar. I'd like for you to be that person."

    Her eyes widen with surprise. "Me?"

    "Yes, you," Leia insists. "The Ninka is hauling stockpiles for us — fuel, food, medical supplies, parts for repairs — and I want you to take inventory before it arrives. Can I count on you to do that?"

    Indira nods quickly. "Of course."

    Her aunt smiles at her faintly before rising from her seat. "Good," she says, stepping out from behind her desk. Indira mirrors her actions, standing quickly and walking with her towards the door. "I'll be assigning a few other pilots to go with you, but I want you to do me a favor."

    "Anything," Indira responds without missing a beat.

    "Please," Leia requests wearily as they step into the hallway. "Take Dameron with you. He's been haranguing me to let him leave the base all week."

    Indira resists the urge to smile. "Roger that, General."

    "OKAY HEAR ME OUT," Poe tells Indira as he watches her work on replacing C-3PO's red arm with a new gold-plated one. The protocol droid had been powered off for the procedure, leaving just Indira and Poe in the midst of the empty hangar. While the technician fusses over the worn-down droid, Poe sits atop an abandoned supply crate with a quetarra balanced on his knee; absentmindedly strumming a made-up tune on the instrument and humming to himself.

    All the other technicians and pilots had turned in for the night, but Poe and Indira opted to stay behind. Both of their schedules were jam-packed throughout the day with no overlap, preventing them from seeing one another. Even so, they'd made a point of spending at least some time together before turning in for the night, taking their dinner to-go from the cafeteria to eat in the hangar while Indira finished up her work.

    "I'm listening," she replies, sticking her tongue out as she finishes up the last parts of the wiring between C-3PO's new arm and the rest of his body.

    "Now, I know it's been unconventional," Poe begins, picking at the strings of the quetarra in a soft melody, "but I, personally, think that this has been a great first date."

    Indira snaps her head in Poe's direction, abandoning her wiring for a moment to glare at him. His expression is nothing less than delighted at her response, mouth curved into a shit-eating grin. She throws a nearby rag at him in retaliation, watching in satisfaction as the grease stained fabric hits him square in the face.

    "Hey!" He yelps indignantly, batting the rag away. "What was that for?"

    Indira scowls at him. "This is not a date!"

    "Aw, come on," Poe protests. "What's not to love? There's food, music, romantic lighting — it's great!"

    Indira pinches the bridge of her nose momentarily before returning to her work, attempting to secure the last few bolts on 3PO's arm. "Well, for starters, we are in the hangar," she replies, twisting the wrench with some difficulty. "I am technically still working," she continues, tugging on the limb to make sure it stays in place before flipping the power switch on C-3PO's processing unit to wake him. "And Threepio has been with us the entire time. Not exactly an ideal first date."

    Poe huffs in defeat, setting his instrument aside before falling back dramatically on the crate so that his legs dangle over the side. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he admits, staring up at the ceiling. "We can do better."

    Indira shakes her head fondly before turning back to the droid in front of her. "Hey, Threepio," she says, gaining his attention as his system finishes rebooting. "How's that arm feeling?"

    The protocol droid tilts its head at her, waiting for its vocal programming to kick into gear, before waving the limb in question around. "Oh, it's wonderful!" C-3PO declares. "I do feel a bit more like my old self again. Thank you, Miss Beren."

    Indira gives him a smile. "I'm glad to hear it."

    "You look good, Threepio," Poe adds, sitting up from his sprawled position.

    The droid whirls around in surprise. "Oh, Master Dameron!" He says. "I did not see you there."

    Poe's brow furrows slightly at the title of master. His lips curl into a frown and he crosses his arms, nodding towards the droid. "Why do you do that?"

    C-3PO cocks his head at the commander. "Pardon me, sir," he says. "I'm not sure I understand the question."

    "All that master stuff," Poe elaborates, setting his hands on his knees. "I know your story. Everyone knows your story. Every big event in the Galactic Civil War, you were right there. You were directly involved in bringing down the Empire; you and Artoo. So, I don't know why you're calling me master — why you call anyone master." He shrugs his shoulders. "Seems like people should call you that."

    C-3PO ponders this for a few moments, uncharacteristically quiet before speaking once more. "Why ... I don't know, sir," he finally admits. "Programming, I suppose. All droids must do as they are programmed."

    Poe frowns once more. "Maybe we oughta change your programming then. Get you the respect you deserve."

    C-3PO's eyes flare slightly, circuits running into overdrive at the prospect, and Indira does her best not to laugh. "I think that's enough for one night," she says, attempting to diffuse the droid's hyperactivity. "Threepio, let me know if your arm needs any adjustments."

    "Yes, of course," the droid says faintly. "I think I'll rest now. Good night, Commander Dameron and Lieutenant Beren."

    "Night, Threepio," Poe calls cheerfully, waving to the 3PO unit as they watch him waddle out of the hangar on well-worn limbs.

    Indira waits until the protocol droid is fully out of earshot before elbowing the pilot in the ribs. "Poe, you nearly fried a circuit in his brain!" She hisses, trying not to laugh. "His processor can't handle that kind of existentialism."

    He shakes his head in disagreement. "I just call it like I see it!" He objects. "Threepio is a legend. Droid or not, he deserves respect! He shouldn't have to go around referring to people as master like some kind of slave."

    "Uh huh," Indira says, making a noise of agreement as she wipes her hands on a nearby rag before approaching him. She offers him her hands, pulling him up from the crate he'd been sitting on so that he's standing in front of her. "You know, it's really attractive when you talk about droid rights."

    He grins at her, settling his hands over her hips and tugging her closer. "Yeah?" He asks, leaning in "Because there's a lot more I could say."

    "Or you could kiss me," Indira says, "but that's up to yo — mmph."

    His lips cover hers, breaking her off mid-sentence and silencing her immediately. Indira feels his lips twist into a smile and she can't help the dumb grin that covers her face. He breaks the kiss a few moments afterwards, nipping slightly at the skin beneath her jaw before stepping back.

    "You know, you're turning me into a real scoundrel," he says breathlessly, half-rueful and half-teasing. "I keep trying to take you out on a date and you keep trying to seduce me; it's really unfair."

    Indira scrunches her face up at him. "I appreciate your attempts at romance," she begins, wrapping her arms around his waist and tucking her head against his chest. "Really, I do."

    "But?" He prompts, nuzzling his nose into her hair and resting his hands on her hips. There's a sway to his body that almost makes it feel like they're dancing. "There's a but in there somewhere."

    "But," she continues, "I don't want to just go through the motions. I don't want this," she says, nodding between the two of them, "to become part of a routine."

    "A routine?" Poe repeats, brow furrowing.

    Indira nods. "Yes," she confirms. "Another box for us to check off at the end of the day; same as all the other shit we do."

    She can feel him smile into her hair. "Yeah, okay; I get that," he says. "How about tomorrow night we go on a real date?"

    Indira sighs almost inaudibly, wanting to say yes, but knowing that she can't. "Tomorrow's no good," she replies, looking up at him. "We've got plans."

    Poe raises his eyebrows. "We do?"

    Indira nods. "The Ninka is dropping supplies. General Organa wants me to run inventory on the ship and she asked me to bring you with me," she says, poking him lightly on the chest as she takes a step back, "because apparently you've been pestering her lately and she wants you out of her hair."

    "I don't pester," Poe disagrees. "I'm just very determined and enthusiastic; there's a difference."

    "Poe Dameron, you leave that poor woman alone!" Indira chides. "Her job is difficult enough without you bothering her."

    His eyes turn sad and he nods. "Yeah, I know," he says, voice somber. "It's just how I check up on her; make sure she's holding up okay after ..."

    Indira feels her heart twist painfully. Han Solo's ghost seemed to hang over all of them these days; a reminder that the war was not yet over and that their victories had not come without a cost. Belatedly, Indira thinks of how Han Solo was her uncle by marriage — another family member gone before she got the chance to know him. The thought makes her throat ache and she swallows hard, blinking rapidly to prevent any tears from welling up in her eyes. Clearing her throat, she forces a smile and does her best to convince herself it's real.

    "She'll be alright," Indira replies reassuringly, more for herself than for him. "Leia is strong. She'll pull through this."

    "Yeah, I know," Poe agrees, running a tired hand over his face. "But I still worry."

    The conversation falls a little flat then; serious and somber and so, so silent. Indira cleans up her workspace hastily, wiping her palms on the pants of her uniform before taking Poe's hand. The two of them leave the hangar that way, fingers intertwined and palms pressed against one another. But, when they enter the hallway, Poe lets go of her hand.

    "I'm not going to bed yet," he explains, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not ready to sleep. I think I might go visit Finn and sit with him for a while."

    Though she would normally offer to go with him, the prospect of falling asleep in her own bed is too tempting for Indira to ignore. "Alright," she agrees. "I'm gonna head back. Make sure you're not up too late, okay?" She requests, touching his face gently and brushing a thumb over the dark circles beneath his eyes that mirror the ones on her face. "Try and get some sleep."

    Poe nods obediently, giving her a lazy two-fingered salute and a grin. "Yes, ma'am."

    "I'll see you tomorrow, then," she tells him, standing on her toes to press her lips to his cheek before stepping away. He catches her hand in his, kissing her fingers quickly before letting her go.

    "Tomorrow," he agrees, watching her leave. He cups his hands over his mouth when she's nearly gone, calling after her before she's too far away to hear him. "I promise that one of these days, I'm gonna take you out on a real date!"

    Indira's lips quirk up slightly as she shakes her head, glancing over her shoulder. "I'll hold you to it," she vows, watching as he grins before she turns the corner and he vanishes from her line of sight. The smile on her lips doesn't leave her face as Indira makes her way back to her room alone, falling into bed with a heart that feels full. She hopes that the feeling will last.

a/n: OK BUT THAT TRAILER Y'ALL H O L Y SHIT

EDITED ON:
10.21.19