Cheffa Cake and Chips - #14 - SW: Repcom - Ordo / Besany
Title: Cheffa Cake and Chips
Pairing: Null Arc 11 - Ordo / Agent Besany Wennen
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando
Rating: PG
Word Count: 741
Theme: #14 - The Pitter-Patter of Feet
Comm: 30_distractions
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holder. Characters belong to their respective owners.
Summary: She doesn't want to think about it.
Edited - 09.20.2008
(Prompt Table)
He wasn’t her child.
Besany watched Sergeant Skirata cradle the small boy in his arms, his normally gruff exterior softened to a paternal kindness laced with heavy emotion. Part of her wanted to take the baby and give Kal a few minutes of respite, but the feeling was easily squashed by the urge to retreat.
Around her kitchen table sat three clone commandos-Niner, Atin, and Corr-chatting away over a plate of chips and nerf steak, while Kal tended to the baby on her rumpled couch. Leaning against the cold storage unit, Null-7, Mereel, picked apart a large slice of cheffa cake. The scene was almost like a tiny reunion, a mirror of a party some weeks ago, minus Darman and his Jedi General.
No one would notice if she took a breather on her balcony.
Agent Wennen welcomed the company. But the child-Venku-looked too much like his father, and because clones all inadvertently shared the same genes… looked too much like Ordo. Though the agent often thought things through in meticulous detail, this was not an emotional line she wanted to travel. At least, not just yet.
The city of Coruscant dropped dramatically as she peered over the edge. No, she was not fond of heights.
Would she have to baby proof her home? Her grip on the banister tightened. What was she doing? She agreed to baby-sit, just another favor of many that she would do for Kal’buir, but she did not know the first thing about raising younglings.
Not for the first time, she wondered if she was in over her head.
“Kind of windy today, isn’t it?”
She nearly jumped. Instead, she barked a startled laugh that sounded more of a mix between a gasp and a cough. To her right stepped up Mereel, who looked just like Ordo… but wasn’t him.
“Someone at Coruscant Climate Control isn’t doing their job,” she joked halfheartedly. He shrugged, smiling. The silence stretched on, and though it wasn’t uncomfortable, she still felt ill at ease.
Finally, she sighed. “What happens now, Mereel?”
The Null’s smile twitched as he looked out over the setting metropolis. “We have a few options,” he said slowly, as if he were tasting his words before he spoke them. “But it’ll take time.”
“Time that you, your brothers, don’t have,” Besany sighed. The clones aged twice as fast as home grown sentients. She still couldn’t comprehend how they managed so much patient discipline, given the circumstances.
Mereel laughed dryly. “Ord’ika is on the job. I wouldn’t be too worried about it.”
“But I do worry.” She sighed again and wrung her hands together as she leaned on the banister edge. “I do worry.”
He sent a sideways glance in her direction, and then gently patted her arm. “Give him a call,” he said with a knowing smile, and left to rejoin the party.
“But what if--” she called to his retreating back. The door cycled shut with a solid sense of finality.
The comlink felt cold in her hands. She turned the small, black box in her palm, fighting the fear that she’d call while he was in the middle of defusing a bomb, or hunting with extreme prejudice, or some other awful situation in which a simple call could endanger his life. She cared for his safety, but simultaneously hated not knowing. It tore at her in ways she, again, did not wish to analyze.
But Mereel said to call…
“Hello?” responded a gruff voice.
“It’s Besany.”
A pause. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I--am I interrupting you?”
Another pause. “No,” he said. She could almost hear the smile in his voice.
“I’m sorry. I just…” She chewed on her bottom lip, debating the wisdom of the direction her mind pointed her in.
“Bes’ika?”
“Can I ask you where you are?” She blurted out, and immediately felt foolish. That was pushing the line. And anyway, why would he tell her? For all she knew, she could have been indirectly giving away his position to an unseen enemy.
“You can…” he trailed off. A faint grunt echoed through the device. It almost sounded like he struggled under the weight of something heavy.
An apology nearly left her lips when the comlink crackled. “But if you could open your front door…? The di’kute seem to have forgotten how to work the controls.”
Besany nearly dropped the comlink as she rushed back inside.
Pairing: Null Arc 11 - Ordo / Agent Besany Wennen
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando
Rating: PG
Word Count: 741
Theme: #14 - The Pitter-Patter of Feet
Comm: 30_distractions
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holder. Characters belong to their respective owners.
Summary: She doesn't want to think about it.
Edited - 09.20.2008
(Prompt Table)
He wasn’t her child.
Besany watched Sergeant Skirata cradle the small boy in his arms, his normally gruff exterior softened to a paternal kindness laced with heavy emotion. Part of her wanted to take the baby and give Kal a few minutes of respite, but the feeling was easily squashed by the urge to retreat.
Around her kitchen table sat three clone commandos-Niner, Atin, and Corr-chatting away over a plate of chips and nerf steak, while Kal tended to the baby on her rumpled couch. Leaning against the cold storage unit, Null-7, Mereel, picked apart a large slice of cheffa cake. The scene was almost like a tiny reunion, a mirror of a party some weeks ago, minus Darman and his Jedi General.
No one would notice if she took a breather on her balcony.
Agent Wennen welcomed the company. But the child-Venku-looked too much like his father, and because clones all inadvertently shared the same genes… looked too much like Ordo. Though the agent often thought things through in meticulous detail, this was not an emotional line she wanted to travel. At least, not just yet.
The city of Coruscant dropped dramatically as she peered over the edge. No, she was not fond of heights.
Would she have to baby proof her home? Her grip on the banister tightened. What was she doing? She agreed to baby-sit, just another favor of many that she would do for Kal’buir, but she did not know the first thing about raising younglings.
Not for the first time, she wondered if she was in over her head.
“Kind of windy today, isn’t it?”
She nearly jumped. Instead, she barked a startled laugh that sounded more of a mix between a gasp and a cough. To her right stepped up Mereel, who looked just like Ordo… but wasn’t him.
“Someone at Coruscant Climate Control isn’t doing their job,” she joked halfheartedly. He shrugged, smiling. The silence stretched on, and though it wasn’t uncomfortable, she still felt ill at ease.
Finally, she sighed. “What happens now, Mereel?”
The Null’s smile twitched as he looked out over the setting metropolis. “We have a few options,” he said slowly, as if he were tasting his words before he spoke them. “But it’ll take time.”
“Time that you, your brothers, don’t have,” Besany sighed. The clones aged twice as fast as home grown sentients. She still couldn’t comprehend how they managed so much patient discipline, given the circumstances.
Mereel laughed dryly. “Ord’ika is on the job. I wouldn’t be too worried about it.”
“But I do worry.” She sighed again and wrung her hands together as she leaned on the banister edge. “I do worry.”
He sent a sideways glance in her direction, and then gently patted her arm. “Give him a call,” he said with a knowing smile, and left to rejoin the party.
“But what if--” she called to his retreating back. The door cycled shut with a solid sense of finality.
The comlink felt cold in her hands. She turned the small, black box in her palm, fighting the fear that she’d call while he was in the middle of defusing a bomb, or hunting with extreme prejudice, or some other awful situation in which a simple call could endanger his life. She cared for his safety, but simultaneously hated not knowing. It tore at her in ways she, again, did not wish to analyze.
But Mereel said to call…
“Hello?” responded a gruff voice.
“It’s Besany.”
A pause. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I--am I interrupting you?”
Another pause. “No,” he said. She could almost hear the smile in his voice.
“I’m sorry. I just…” She chewed on her bottom lip, debating the wisdom of the direction her mind pointed her in.
“Bes’ika?”
“Can I ask you where you are?” She blurted out, and immediately felt foolish. That was pushing the line. And anyway, why would he tell her? For all she knew, she could have been indirectly giving away his position to an unseen enemy.
“You can…” he trailed off. A faint grunt echoed through the device. It almost sounded like he struggled under the weight of something heavy.
An apology nearly left her lips when the comlink crackled. “But if you could open your front door…? The di’kute seem to have forgotten how to work the controls.”
Besany nearly dropped the comlink as she rushed back inside.