stykera | Onboard Moya, Sunday Fandom Time

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Onboard Moya, Sunday Fandom Time

It was there last day on Moya, for now, and Stark was giving Summer a more thorough tour of the ship which was ending now. They'd gone back to Pilot's Den, looked in the maintenance bay, seen some of the nearly invisible scars from the fire (and Stark had stood silently for a long moment with his hand on Moya's bulkhead there), and now they had reached the final planned location.

"This is my favorite place on the ship," he said as they stopped outside a door. "It's...you'll see. A very good place to just sit. It's beautiful and it's quiet and none of us come here very often. It's peaceful. Should we go in?"

That was the whole point of being outside this particular door, but Stark was still Stark. He was nervous even if this trip had gone better than he ever could have hoped.

[For Stark's very favorite person, NFB for distance, there are no laws preventing calls and texts because that would be really weird]

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And Summer was just going to give Stark a faintly amused look at that question, shaking her head.

"Nah," she said, "I think I'm good, let's just head back to my ship now."

And she was just now going to slowly start turning back toward the way they came.

Stark ducked his head in acknowledgement that he had very much deserved that and then reached out to grab onto Summer's wrist and tug her back.

"Come with me," he said. It wasn't even a question. "Here."

His free hand was already palming the door open and then he was very gently tugging her forward with him.

"Much better," Summer said, her smirk with almost a little bit of pride in it as she let herself be led into the room, half-tempted to close her eyes as if to inspire some sort of bigger reveal.

"Moya's Terrace," Stark said quietly as they stepped fully into the room and the door closed behind them.

"The best view you could hope to have, I think," he added. It was an impressive view by any metric. Not quite a 360 degree view of the galaxy around them but nearly. It was as close as you could get to open space without a suit or some sort of bubble ship.

He was still holding Summer's wrist lightly and he turned to face her. "What do you think?"

Summer, of course, had seen space from a countless multitude of perspectives and positions, from various planets, ships, of different universes, galaxies, and dimensions. Driver's seat, passenger side, docking bays, from down in the trenches and from the top of a throne, and she never got sick of it. As she followed Stark in and her eyes began to rove around, it was easy to seen why the Terrace would be Stark's...or anyone's, really...favorite spot.

And then her gaze drifted to the wide-open glass above and all around them, eager and excited to add yet another gorgeous, sweeping, mind-bending nebulous vista of endless stars and space to her already expansive experience, and...

...and...

What was it, just then, as she lifted her eyes and really looked at the view from Moya's Terrace that did it? That suddenly struck her in the chest like a slug of a blaster bolt right into the hardest part of her core and made it feel like it had cracked and splintered? Was it the particular hue of space? A certain color to the star dust and gas clouds? The arrangement of stars in some sort of subconscious orders that settled into her brain and unlocked...something.

Summer's breath caught. She blinked.

"Oh," she said, staring up at the view like she'd never seen space before in her life.

But she had, dozens, hundreds, millions of times. And, in that moment, the view of space in her eyes was not the one surrounding them now, but a different space, a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, in a ship much smaller than this one, after what was anything but just another routine flying lesson...

And then the view didn't look like much of anything at all, just a blur of space behind the curtain of tears she was trying to ignore were in her eyes as she took in a shuttering breath.

"I--"

Maybe he wouldn't notice if she just played it off, super cash...

"It's beautiful, Stark."

Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn it! Why here? Why now? After all these years, all that space...she sucked in a slow breath, because don't you dare start crying right now, right here, of all the fucking places, Summer Smith, don't you dare...

A small sound wrenched out of her. One she didn't think she could pass off as a hiccup, but, goddamn it, she was thinking of trying...

"Thanks for showing me."

Totally normal response, see? Nothing to see here. Everything was fine. Totally fine. Never been finer!

Stark had been watching her, hoping for a good reaction. This was certainly a reaction but he could hardly call it good. He rubbed his thumb gently across the inside of her wrist, unsure if he ought to let go or tighten his hold or pull her close.

He waited, watching her carefully. Listening to her harsh breaths and that sound that certainly wasn't a hiccup.

"Summer?"

His voice was very small, suddenly. He squeezed her wrist, still so gently.

"What's wrong?"

It was too just a hiccup, and anyone claiming otherwise was full of slander and lies.

Just like how the sniffle that answered Stark and the tear forced down Summer's cheek when she closed to her eyes to just try and getting a fucking grip on herself were both clearly just due to some sort of unexpected space allergy, probably, to some dumb space plant in the palace gardens yesterday....

God dammit.

"Nothing," she said, voice as tight as the shake of her head, trying to shove everything bubbling up from deep inside her right back down where it belonged. "I'm fine. It's just...really fucking beautiful, you know? Can't a girl just get really fucking moved over a really fucking beautiful spacescape from time to time?"

Summer was fooling exactly zero people here!

"It is beautiful," Stark agreed quietly. "That's why I wanted you to see it. I came here a lot the last time I came back."

It had taken him some time to realize the view had reminded him of the one from Faye's ship.

"It's beautiful and it's peaceful and it's private..." he let his voice trail off as he let go of her wrist, choosing instead to put his arm over her shoulder if she'd let him.

"And you can feel any way you need to about any of that. Or anything else."

Look, Summer had been fooling herself that she was over this and fine and that she didn't need to deal with it for years now; why break a solid streak like that over just some stupid stars and space dust that apparently vaguely resembled some other nebula in a completely different galaxy that she hadn't even been to in, like, half a decade??

She was fine, totally fine, everything was fine.

So fine, in fact, that when Stark put his arm around her, she leaned into him gratefully. Heavily. But with a relieved sigh, because, see? It was fine. She's gotten all worked up over nothing. Nothing...at...al--

"Oh, god!"

The sound that wrenched itself out of Summer was almost like the sound of whatever it was inside of her that she thought was holding everything back splitting and cracking and busting open, and everything came spilling out of her, hiccup after hiccup after hiccup, until, nope, it really was all just sobs and clinging and a torrential downpour into Stark's poor shirt.

And, eventually:

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! You just wanted to show me somewhere nice and then I had to ho and be all fucking weird about it!"

At least there was a little voice in her head, in Dr. Wong's calm and measured voice, probably, pointing out that the only thing weird about this reaction is how it took her until just this moment, finally, to have it.

Stark had been startled by the sobs but he and his clothing had suffered so much worse before.

He just stood there, feeling helpless for a moment, then he just held her, making soothing sounds as one hand rubbed circles on her back. He could do that, at least. He could hold on to her and let her cry and let her know he was there.

When she finally spoke again he just continued holding her. "You're all right," he murmured. "You're all right. No need to apologize. You're fine. You're here. I'm here. I'm sorry. For whatever this is."

"Oh," said Summer, who stopped clinging to Stark long enough to futilely try to wipe the tears from her cheeks with her hand, only to go right back to it, "don't you start feeling bad about it, too! That's only going to make me feel even worse!"

"Oh no. No no no," Stark pleaded. "Don't feel worse. I...you can be sad if you need to I'm just sorry you need to! It's all right and you're all right and I'm here and you can cry."

He leaned forward just enough to kiss the top of her head softly.

"I've cried in here, you know. It's a good place for it. Do you want to sit? Do you need anything? We can just stand here. Whatever helps. You can talk or you can not talk whatever you need. I'm right here but I don't have to be if that helps..."

What she needed was her best friend back...or at least to know that he could feel somewhat at peace now, but since Stark couldn't really do that for her and she probably couldn't even get a fucking Force ghost out of the deal...

"Sitting might be good," she decided, somewhat numbly, leaning on Stark in a way that she hoped made it clear that he was going to need to help get her there, "and I'm...I'm glad you're here. I...I really am sorry, this is so stupid..."

But it really wasn't, and she just didn't have it in herself to actuallh convince herself that it was, for the bajillionth time.

If Stark knew how to bring people back...or even if he was better at tracking them down across the multiverse...

"We'll sit," he said. "It's not stupid. It's...living. It's just living. Sometimes it hurts, Summer. I know that very well."

He didn't know what, exactly, had triggered this overwhelming emotion but he knew about his own overwhelming emotions.

"Come over here," he said gently, already moving in the direction of the bulkhead, "we'll sit. Over here."

He led her to the section of bulkhead by the door, very gently pulling her down with him as he sat.

"Right here. We're right here." He'd had to loosen his hold on her but if she let him he would wrap both arms around her and hold her as long as she needed him to.

"I've cried here before. Right here. Cry all you need. Moya doesn't mind."

"Moya might not mind," Summer said, with a wry snort that turned into a sniffle, which then turned into wiping her wet cheek again and just leaning into Stark, so much leaning and just curling up under his arm and into his chest, "but I sure as fuck do..."

She was quiet, though, for a moment, before softly adding, "and if you're going to cry anyway, this is a great place to do it."

Epic. Dramatic. Moving, clearly. And Summer chanced looking back out into the space that had sent her reeling just moments ago, confident that at least now, she was over it, and could actually look at it objectively this ti--

--nope. Wrong. She felt another twist in her chest, another quiver in her jaw, but she wasn't going to look away, she was going to keep her blurred gaze steady.

"I don't mind either," Stark said gently as she settled herself against his chest. "None of it. But it is a good place for crying."

It was a good place to feel extremely lonely, too, and overwhelmed. Right now he wasn't lonely at all but he might be a little overwhelmed.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked after a moment. "You don't have to. But I'll listen to whatever you might want to say. Or need to say? Or I can talk. I can tell you that we're in the middle of Hynerian space and Rygel technically rules all of it. 600 billion subjects in his empire."

Summer snorted softly. "Six billion, huh? And here I used to think I was hot shit for ruling over some dinky little planetoid."

And the levity felt good, and Summer wanted nothing more that to keep that hoisted and run with it and pretend all this never happened. But there was also the voice in her head telling her that she should talk him about it. She needed to talk to someone about it.

(That's what your therapist is for, another voice countered)

And if anyone could understand this kind of thing, it would definitely be Stark...

(Talking about it makes it real; there's no going back, once you talk about it).

She wished he didn't give her such an easy out. This would be so much easier if he didn't just hold open a door for her to escape it through like that...

She sighed, stilled her hand that had started nervously playing with a button on Stark's shirt and laid it flat on his chest as she looked up at him.

"Are you familiar at all," she asked, "with Schrödinger's Cat?"

Stark looked at her for a moment before shaking his head.

"No. Should I have? Is Schrödinger someone I should know? Is the cat? Is that someone you know?"

Crichton would have known exactly what she was talking about.

"No. I don't. Would you like to tell me?"

He wasn't going to stop holding her. It seemed like something she needed now.

Summer gave a soft smile at that response, and she looked at Stark just a moment longer before shifting, lowering her head a little to better get comfortable against him as she explained.

"Right, so," she said, "don't, like, quote me on any of this, but Schrödinger is this guy who did this thought experiment that's, like, supposed explain quantum physics or whatever. And so there's the box, and he's all, 'there's a cat in this box. There's also a mechanism that will totally kill the cat inside the box, too.' But you don't know if the cat is already dead from the mechanism or not, and you don't know unless you look. So, if you don't look, theoretically, the cat could be dead or it could still be alive. If you don't look, there's a slim chance the cat is still alive."

There was a pause, wrestling down a lump in her throat, another building of tears in her eyes.

"But if you do look, well, then..."

She trailed off, and waited, to see if he was anywhere near picking up what she was putting down.

"Then you know," Stark finished for her. He could understand that too well.

He was stroking her back gently as they sat.

"Sometimes it's easier, knowing. And sometimes...sometimes it's easier to hold on to the hope. Sometimes the hope hurts. Sometimes the loss of hope hurts. Sometimes there are no good options."

"Yeah," Summer sighed heavily, "we're on that last 'sometimes.' And, like, I know. I know it, deep down, almost stronger than I know anything. I feel like I've known from the moment I left Coruscant, even though there's no way it would have happened yet..."

She shook her head lightly, sniffled again, rubbed a fresh tear teetering off the tip of her nose with a finger.

"And that,' her hand gestured accordingly toward the view from the terrace...or maybe even the whole multiverse, while they were at it, "reminded me of a time when there wasn't a box, or at least there was the vague notion of a box, where the box itself was almost a box, because it was both there and not there.

"Which is stupid," she added, almost angrily, "because that's not even a nebula out there, it's just....space ass space, but noooo, it had to have a streak of color in it that was the same color as the streak across Archeon that day, like, five fucking years ago, out of fucking no where...!"

The rant ended in a sort of desperate half-sob, threatening to run her all through it again.

"Grief," Stark said after a pause to let Summer collect herself if she needed to, "doesn't make sense. It's never simple and it's never easy. It's complicated and it's messy and it comes when it will sometimes when you least expect it."

He paused again, idly tracing a circle on her back.

"I'm sorry for the hurt."

"I don't think," Summer said, after another long moment, mostly just appreciating the comforting touch for a moment, "I've ever really actually properly grieved, either. I've come close a few times, but that little possibility always pulls me back. Like, I know I said I know, but I don't really know know....you know?"

"It can be hard to let yourself grieve."

Stark sighed softly. "Although sometimes it's harder to let yourself stop. Or maybe that's just me." He did have a tendency to feel too deeply and get lost in those feelings. The last time he'd been onboard this ship it had been because he needed a reason to stop feeling hurt and loss and nothing else.

"And yes. I do know. There are plenty of people I've known who've disappeared from my life for any number of reasons and some of them may be fine and others...I'll never really know, even if I'm almost entirely certain. But we're talking about you."

Stark being a disaster was a given. Although right now he was calm and he was here, keeping his arms around the most important person in his world and gently toying with her hair now.

"Do you want to tell me about them?"

"Well, I guess that does make me feel a little better," Summer murmured, "if even you don't even know sometimes, and that's, like, your whole deal."

Yes, she knew it didn't work like that. Not the point.

"Did you ever know Kanan?" she then asked, with no small amount of hesitation. "Jarrus? I feel like I may have asked before, but I don't remember."

"I wish I knew more than I do. It would help," Stark said softly. "And...no. I'm sorry. I only know his name. We never met that I recall."

Maybe that would make it harder to talk about him. Maybe it would be easier.

"Well," Summer nodded a little, "he was my best friend. Long before Annie and Rey and you. Not before Mr. Poopybutthole, but, I mean, he and I go way back. He was one of the first people I met when I came here, and he made me pancakes at Luke's almost every Sunday, and I always sent him a stupid amount of roses every Valentine's Day. I lived on his couch for a little while, and he's a good part of why I'm such a good fucking pilot. He taught me about the Force and the Jedi and was the whole reason I opened a space jello cantina in the first place. Hell,he's the reason for all the really weird jello right off the bad. Well, him and Steeeeeve, both. My office at the school used to be his office, and I made sure I snagged it because Sabine did a painting on the wall of when he was a Loth cat, and one time, he was a Loth cat the same time I was a squirrel and we raided a picnic together, and he was the only one who knew right away when my grampa replaced me with a robot."

That was the easy part to talk about. This next part? Not so much.

"And I miss him so fucking much every single day, Stark." Her voice wavered again. "I got portal blocked from his dimension after blowing up a part of Coruscant, so I couldn't even pop in every once in a while to check up on him. But I could at least tell myself, in my ignorance, that he was still doing well...

"But then Sabine came back, and she had that time-skip, and I just knew by the look on her face. We didn't talk about it, but I kinda feel we didn't need to.

"It's hard," Stark said, holding her a little tighter now and bending a bit so he could rest his head on hers. "It's hard to miss someone so much it hurts. But...he sounds like a good friend, Summer. An important one. I'm glad you had him and I am so sorry you've lost him."

He took a deep breath, gave an extra little squeeze, and continued. "I'd like to hear more, if you'll tell me. It doesn't have to be right now. Just sometime, if you like. Maybe you could show me photos? Or the painting in your office?"

"Calling him 'a good friend' is doing him a big disservice, Stark," Summer said, more than a little defensively, but, hey, cut her some slack. She was feeling pretty emotionally raw at the moment, and she needed Stark to understand the sheer magnitude of how much Kanan really did mean to her.

"I didn't mean to...to minimize anything," Stark told her quickly. "Not at all. Not my intent. I'm sorry."

He'd said something wrong already and he should have known better. He should be better a this.

"He sounds important," he said again. "I'm sorry I never had a chance to meet him."

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Onboard Moya, Sunday Fandom Time

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