Chapter Text
“This is a sad day.”
Leia’s words hung heavy in the air above the assembly. Most pilots, along with several Alliance veterans had made an appearance. They stood together, dressed in a respectful black for the sad occasion - one they all knew likely in the face of war, but still felt the deep sting on every time.
Death was an old and ever present friend to rebellion. Any peace from it was always hard won and bargained for in blood. And, as it would seem, far too fleeting.
Draped in her black dress, Leia looked the very picture of mourning. Her voice held all the strength of a leader long accustomed to lose and saying goodbye as she looked out across the congregation, and in particular to the remaining members of Black Squadron gathered at the front.
“We lost one of our own, L’ulo L’ampar. A skilled, fierce warrior who spent his life fighting on the side of all that is good and right in the galaxy.” Her hand rested atop the empty casket, the symbol of the Rebellion marked boldly on the side. “As he lived, he died. And we will miss him very much.”
Each Black Squadron pilot had been handling their grief differently, and they wore a mask to match. Jess was hiding her sadness poorly, though that was no slight against her. Losing friends was painful. A pain Karé could not purge from the way she carried herself, weighed down by a sense of guilt. Nova kept her head down, hiding her own numb expression to avoid critique or question. Snap held himself tall as he listened to the General, taking the approach of remembering the Duros as he had lived.
And then there was Poe. The man hit the hardest. He had been doing his best to keep it together and process, but he was a man of feeling. His heart had an apparent residence on his sleeve. And with all eyes on him as a leader, there was not much room for privacy.
“I could tell you stories about L’ulo for hours,” Leia continued, “and I’m sure that time will come. Right now though, I would like his commanding officer to say a few words.”
Poe exhaled, straightening himself out as he approached the casket. Taking Leia’s place, the pair shared in a quiet exchange. Then, he turned to address the crowd.
“These days, we don’t talk about the Force that much. I don’t know if it’s gone out of fashion, or if it’s just harder to see around us. It was different for me growing up. We used to tell stories about the Force all the time. I’d like to tell you one now.”
His eyes caught on Nova as he looked over the crowd. At the mention of the Force, she had bowed her head, her gaze locked onto her boots. He had never thought to ask her about it before, despite knowing her past training as a Jedi. Often he found it easy to forget she had trained at all. When he looked at her, he did not see a stoic, mystical warrior holding the galaxy in balance. He just saw her.
And that was all he needed to see.
“I heard from an old friend of my family - someone who understands the Force as well as anyone alive. She told me about an old Jedi she knew; one of the very last. He was as strong and tough as any of them, and went out fighting evil, just like L’ulo did.”
He glanced sideways at Leia, who met him with nothing but support.
“She was there when it happened, and she told me his body just… vanished. Empty robes and a lightsaber. That’s all that was left.”
Nova chewed the inside of her cheek, forcing her body to stay beside her squadron when all her mind wanted her to do was run. That was a kinder idea for a Jedi’s death.
The screams still echoed in her ears. The smoke still burned her lungs.
She forced herself to blink, trying to dispel the memory from her mind.
“She didn’t get it. Didn’t understand, not until a long time later, when she talked to her brother. He’s a Jedi too, and he told her something he’d learned from his master.”
Poe touched a hand to his chest. “We’re not this. We’re not just flesh and bone. Not just stuff. We’re more. We’re luminous. That’s what he said.”
Behind him, Nova could see her mother starting to tear up. In the last five years, it was not just her life which had fallen apart. Her mother’s had too; and she had watched it unfold worlds away. Her position in the galaxy had fallen heavily into question in political scandal, and her family had been scattered to the winds. Some hiding, some worse.
The hand on his chest solemnly returned to the casket. “This coffin’s empty. A lot of empty coffins in this business. That’s how starfighter pilots go. One second we’re there, next we’re just atoms, drifting through the universe. We vanish, just like that old Jedi did.”
Each pilot in Black Squadron bowed their head.
“But that doesn’t mean we’re gone. L’ulo was pretty much my uncle. He helped raise me since I was a kid. He was cranky, kind, strong, and one of the best pilots I’ve ever met. If he saw a way to help someone, he’d take it, and he never turned away from a fight against the bad guys, no matter the odds. You want to talk luminous? L’ulo L’ampar was about as luminous as they come. The stuff might be gone, but he’s not. I can still feel him.”
He touched both hands back to his chest. “Right here. Shining away. May the Force be with you, L’ulo. And with all of us.”
- - -
“To L’ulo!”
The cheer carried over the wake triumphantly. The pilots raised their fists and flasks, the Corellian Reserve spilling over and filling the air with its sweet scent.
Naturally, Black Squadron were at the heart of the gathering, recounting what stories they could from their time in the field together. They made many laugh, remembering L’ulo as he had lived - a fighter, through and through.
Nova was keeping to herself at the fringes, staying just close enough to not attract questions. Most people let her be - it was nothing out of the ordinary for her, even without a funeral. Her flask of reserve sat untouched in her hand.
She looked up when Poe drifted by her to join them, having disappeared after his speech. She could not fault him for that. But she found herself watching him closely, reading him like data. Finding the cracks in his slipping mask as he held himself together to greet the others.
“Where have you been?” Jess asked as he slipped in beside her. “Are you alright?”
“Just needed a minute. I’m good,” he assured gently.
A moment passed where he mingled with Snap and Karé, kindly passing on the offer for a drink from the couple. His eyes met Nova’s in passing, but it was fleeting as she looked back down at her flask, and Jess came to grab his attention once again.
“Poe, listen- what you said, about L’ulo… thank you. I was…” she sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder to admit: “I could feel myself maybe going dark after he died. But what you said… it really helped.”
“I was just trying to do the crazy old guy justice,” he said.
“You did more than that.” Jess pulled him into a tight hug, more so for gratitude than for comfort. But it made no difference. A natural camaraderie was generated between friends, which in turn bred an understanding.
All the empty coffins.
In time, Poe drifted away from the gathering once again, BB-8 rolling along at his ankles. The little droid had been particularly attached to him since their last mission. He beeped an comment, looking up to his friend as he looked out across the base.
“I know, pal,” Poe said. “Lotta folks doing the right thing… because it’s the right thing. Look at ‘em all…”
Somewhere below, his gaze caught on the brunette pilot, and the drink she was uncharacteristically ignoring. She too had drifted from the wake, lingering closer to the nearby hanger. She fiddled with the flask from time to time, looking further afield to something the others could not see.
Memory.
A moment later she was reaching for her drink, tipping it towards her lips. Until she paused, examining it. She chewed the inside of her cheek, the scene still enticing as it reached the back of her throat through her nose. It mingled with the grief to make her eyes water.
She screwed it shut, silencing the call, and sat it down on a nearby crate.
And then she walked away.
She was surprised when, a few moments later, she caught up to her commander in the hanger. Though she supposed if she was going to find him anywhere, it would be with his beloved ship. She greeted him with an awkward silence, having not truly spoken to him since their encounter in training.
It seemed Poe was in much the same state, leading with a smile that failed to reach his eyes. He gestured to her vaguely. “How’s your side?”
Nova glanced down at her point of injury, hidden beneath her shirt and a layer of bandaging. “Still stings. How’s your hand?”
He held up his bandaged hand, still recovering from where he had told her he managed to catch a knife. “I’ll have one hell of a scar.”
She chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll look really tough.”
“That’s the plan.”
A silence followed where the two simply regarded each other. Seeing through the cracks in their armour. It was uncanny, how easy it was for one to read the other. How strangely comforting.
No words were needed to convey the sorrow and grief. They both knew of their experiences on the matter, without delving into the heartbreaking details. It was in their faces; their tired eyes, the invisible tear stains never quite dry. And the way they stood, facing down the pain, holding themselves together. Alone.
And then they were together.
Nova was the first to move, taking two steps towards him until her arms could loop around him. Ignoring the stretch it put on her injury, she kept holding onto him, arms around his shoulders. She was unsure where the feeling came from, but it felt like instinct. A comfort they both sorely needed.
And Poe agreed. He faltered, caught off guard at first by the action from Nova of all people. But then he let himself deflate, arms secure around her waist. His head rested against her shoulder, deep brown eyes blinking loose a silent tear.
“Thank you.”
Nova kept staring straight ahead, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’m so sorry, Poe.”