-
PART ONE
CHAPTER TWO
-

-

Though Naz had been exhausted from the night before, she'd risen early and gotten out of the house before her father could wake. She'd have to see him that evening for dinner, but that didn't mean she couldn't avoid him until then.

To say Fletcher wouldn't be happy to see her was an understatement. Just the thought of his face red with rage, the vein in his neck bulging, made the corner of her mouth tilt upwards.

He'd become quite the game to her. As she'd grown, she'd learnt his every tick. How to grind his gears and bring him to his boiling point. The first time Fletcher had boiled over, Naz came away with his handprint plastered in red upon her cheek.

But it was worth it just to see him lose his mind.

To watch as he recoiled in disgust at his own self and glared at his hand as if it had a sentience of its own. It, of course, did not. He had struck his daughter, his flesh and blood.

At the time, Naz had been shocked he would go so far as to slap her, but, after that, it became less and less surprising each and every time.

Every time Fletcher lashed out, Naz knew she'd beaten him. For a split second between the hit and the inevitable recoil, she made sure he knew exactly that.

Her mother would rush in and beg them both to stop. Plea with Fletcher to leave their daughter alone. Smother Natalie in hugs and kisses until she stopped shaking, until she stopped bleeding.

Fletcher would watch, but not for long. He couldn't bear it for long. He'd leave and not return until the morning, stinking of alcohol, blood, and sweat.

Naz would often be waiting for him upon his return, though she was careful not to make it obvious to her mother. But he knew. Just from the way the soft eyes she'd inherited from her mother sharpened to lethal daggers the moment he walked into their home was enough to tell him everything he needed to know.

She was glad he knew she hated him.

The morning was crisp and flooded her lungs with air so cold she could feel it inside her chest, locked behind her ribs. She took her time walking from the living quarters to her mechanic's post. There was no need to rush. She was early every day.

Her boss, Hin, always managed to find a reason to be irritated by this, but that never deterred Naz. The earlier she started, the sooner she met her quota, the sooner she could get out of this junkyard. Besides, no matter how many times Hin reprimanded her, she'd never fire her. She was one of their best with her ability to take parts no one else would deem usable and make them fit, make ships no one thought could ever fly again take off, and fix scrambled droids within the hour, her record being twenty-six minutes and seven seconds.

Yet, despite all this success, Natalie Stark was unfulfilled.

There was only so much satisfaction fixing another battered X-Wing could bring. She was growing tired of the sameness the workday brought and it hadn't taken her long to realise this was a dead-end job.

In the end, she'd only ever be a mechanic. Never remembered. Just another name on the list who would never amount to anything significant.

Naz wanted to be significant.

She wanted to make a change. To cause a ripple that would leave her name carved in time, not forgotten.

Never forgotten.

Naz pulled the overalls on and buttoned it all the way up, the oil stains from the day before smeared in lines of black down its front where she'd wiped her hands without thinking. This was just another day she had to grin and bear before she could take the next leap of faith life offered her. This was not her final calling. She just knew it.

Hin was the only other one already in the hanger. She walked between carcasses, clipboard in hand, to assess the repairs that still needed to be made.

When she got to Naz's station, she wasn't surprised to see the young woman already there.

"Good morning, Stark," She said, though she didn't look at her as she spoke. Instead, she scanned the U-Wing for repairs.

"The engines bust," She offered, gesturing to the front of the ship with a somehow already blackened hand.

"Yes," Hin replied. Now she lowered her clipboard and looked at Naz. "And I suppose you think you can make it fly again?"

"There's no doubt about it." Her arms fold across her chest and her dark eyes dared Hin to doubt her.

"Well," Hin glanced down at her papers from behind her tiny spectacles, "if you can fix this scrap-heap within the next... five days, you can have the week off you requested for your birthday."

Naz's mouth shot up into a grin. She knew she could do it and a whole week off would be a blessing, especially if she could persuade Cassian and Ely to get some time off too.

"I'll see that it's done," She said, already turning away to begin, already deep in thought about her plan of attack.

This was going to be a challenge, but she'd always liked challenges. No mountain was too tall for the ever-ambitious Natalie. The confidence she had in herself was always jarring to people who didn't know her. That never stopped her.

Why would she shy away when all she'd ever wanted to do was achieve?

Two hours into working on the U-Wing's bust engine and her progress was interrupted by the arrival of Cassian. He was on a break and, though he would almost definitely be distracting, she let him stay.

Though getting her head down to work towards what would be a nearly impossible goal for some had always been an unshakable part of Naz, she always could find time for Cassian.

No matter the time, no matter the cost, she would have time in her day for him without hesitation.

Despite always having time for him, her patience was wearing thin with every one of his sighs and huffs from where he perched upon the U-Wing like a bird that just wouldn't stop chirping.

"Cas, as much as I love having you around, you're not helping," Naz complained, pulling herself from beneath the belly of the busted ship. When she looked up at him, there was a smear of oil on her brow only made worse when she rubbed at it.

"Sorry, but you told me it wouldn't be a problem," He replied, pushing a hand through his ruffled hair, almost pouting like a child told no.

"I said it wouldn't be a problem if you didn't distract me," She told him and disappeared back beneath the ship, the tool she'd been looking for clamped between her teeth as she swings back under. She takes it out and adds, "I've got to get this junk pile repaired in five days." With a grunt, she tightens the bolt. "Five days, Cas. This takes others at least two weeks and –"

"I can leave," He said shortly.

Naz rolled her eyes at his response knowing there was no way he'd be able to see. "Don't sulk about it," She replied, coming back out and standing up. She wiped her hands down the front of her overalls, smearing more oil down them to mesh with the stains already there.

Stains that would not and would never come out.

She almost laughed at the look on his face when she straightened up but decided against it because he already seemed in a bad enough mood without her prodding at him. Besides, it was no fun mocking him when he was like this. When he'd already decided the world was against him. When he'd already written the day off as another to add to the list to be forgotten.

"You're going to make it to drinks tonight, right?" Cassian asked, his expression deepening slightly further into a frown as he awaited her response.

Deepening further as she drew in a breath and shoved here hands into the pockets of her tattered jumpsuit.

"I'm sorry, Cas, but I'm not sure that's smart if I want to get this ship back up and running on time," She apologised.

Slowly, he slid off the ship to stand before her. He towered above Naz now, but it hadn't always been like that. One day, when they were still young and fresh, they had woken up and he was taller than her. For months, she'd not heard the end of it.

From where she leant against her latest project, he could see the smudges of grime and oil on her face from where she'd itched her face, a habit she had when she was deep in thought. When she was scratching her head for a solution to a problem others would write off to save themselves time in the long run. The line streaking across her right cheek down to her jawbone was like a smearing of ink on the white page.

He sighed and leant against the ship too, defeated.

"So, you're bailing too?" Cassian grumbled, eyes turned down.

"Eldos isn't going again?" Her step closer lifted his gaze to met hers, unable to glance away even when she searched him with that deep stare of hers. Naz hated letting him down. She really did, but this job was important to her and she couldn't lose it over a tradition that was falling apart anyway.

"When was the last time he came, Naz?" Cassian replied, shaking his head. "He hasn't come for weeks. It's like we never see each other anymore."

The disappointment in his voice sent a pang rushing through her chest, pushing her ribs into her heart and her lungs. She felt overwhelming guilt at not being able to go, but she knew Cassian was only disappointed, not mad.

But that was simply part of growing up, was it not? Friends drifting apart when new responsibilities pull them into orbit. Unable to spend the day doing nothing without guilt anymore.

Life did not wait for nostalgia.

"Is that why you're here?" She questioned in a small, soft voice that reminded herself of her mother in simpler times. Times before the illness had taken root and left the early bird bed bound.

"I can't remember the last time we sat down and had a proper conversation," He admitted, twisting his fingers together.

Naz placed her hand over his, smiling with a brilliant warmth, ignoring the oil and dirt on her fingers. "It's ok, Cas, we're not free teens anymore. We're adults with jobs. It was always bound to happen. Besides, I need to get this done to have time off next week. That's when we can sit down and talk for hours and hours until we're positively sick of one another."

Her smile was, and always had been, catching.

Cassian's mouth quirked into a small smile. He replied, "Alright, but no bailing on me then."

"I swear I won't," She promised. "You have my word."

-

1870 words
17.2.20

guess who's back in the house