Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Forgive me,” rasped Saw Gerrera, arriving late. Everything he said was with a rasp, these days. “My child is ill.” From anybody else, that would sound like, ‘...And I caught the flu from them,’ or even ‘a little convor – me – is ill,’ but Saw Gerrera’s rapidly failing health was a sensitive and secretive topic, and thus known about universally. Funny how those things worked. The reactions of the assorted rebel leaders, therefore, were less those of understanding and sympathy, and more those of, ‘dear gods, when did that man acquire a child?’.

Nobody quite asked it. Bail Organa, though, said gently, not entirely sure he wasn’t using the gentle caution used to attempt to calm a raging nerf, asked, “What’s their name?”

The council held their breath. An invasion of Saw Gerrera’s privacy could only end poorly. Saw Gerrera, however, let out a gigantic, sagging breath, and said, “Jyn. Senator Organa, her name is Jyn.” The love in his tone was hard to feign.

“Tell me about her,” Bail Organa said, still in that same gentle tone, and now surely that was a demand too far for Saw Gerrera to tolerate – and, indeed, so it was.

“My family is no concern to this council!” he said. He might have been shouting, if the word ‘shouting’ referred to intent, and not to the actual volume that came out of his lungs.

“Senator Organa,” began Tyra Pamlo, but he raised a firm hand to silence her.

“No council, then,” said Bail Organa, and he actually moved to walk away from the large round holotable. “No politics, I promise it. Just one father to another.” He held out a hand again, but this one was outstretched instead of raised; a peace offering, instead of call for ‘peace’. Murmurs broke out in small spotfires. Pamlo subsided, suspicious and sulking beneath her hood, and Bail touched Mon Mothma’s wide sleeve and said to her, “I guarantee you’ll hold my positions into account?”

She nodded. “I will.”

“And mine?” demanded Saw Gerrera.

A fifth human, Davits Draven, with the pale skin and orange hair of Mon Mothma, said, “I’ll speak for the pragmatics, and the idealists can tally my vote double.” There were a few snickers, but most of them were good-natured, or at least mocking at Draven as much as Saw. Draven took this with good grace.

Saw Gerrera shook his head, then followed Bail’s inviting arm out of the room. “So,” he said, stretching out on a supply crate, after Bail had sat down neatly onto another, “what did you really want to know, Organa?”

“Only what I proclaimed openly, at the table, Gerrera. I want to hear about your daughter.”

“You want to know I’m not abusing her.”

“I severely doubt that you can provide her with a safe or non-harmful environment, but that isn’t your fault, Saw. You probably rescued her from someplace worse.”

“Ahh. I’m supposing you want to know who her real father is, then.”

“I was under the impression he was in front of me,” said Organa.

“Ah,” said Gerrera, and laughed, and coughed. “Good. Like recognises the like, yes? Just for that! I will tell you!” He leaned close, closer, like he was afraid camera droids were watching and would lipread his words. He probably wasn’t incorrect about that. “A high-ranking Imperial.”

Bail Organa froze into place. Contrary to Gerrera’s belief, he hadn’t brought him out here to backmail him. He may have just have been played, though, at the game he had refused to deal into. “Ah,” he breathed, with great caution.

“A scientist,” said Gerrera, and Bail relaxed. As he withdrew, the other man watched him closely, frowning, this thought process bordering on the audible. At last, he said, “Like does call to like, eh?”

Bail Organa disagreed, very strongly, out of a pure and dirty instinct of parental protectiveness that was probably a lot like Gerrera’s. “Real fathers raise their children,” he said.

“Ah,” said Gerrera. “So did my Jyn’s birth father… for a time.” Had Gerrera killed him? Bail Organa would not put it past the man. Maybe he had wanted the child’s information. Maybe a ransom kidnapping had gone awry; but whatever had happened, Saw Gerrera had caught something from little Jyn; he had, no doubt, one day realised that he loved her.

He had fully intended for this conversation to be reciprocal, but he had meant for – well, he had been foolish to expect it, maybe, but a normal conversation between fathers. “Forgive me if I don’t tell you about Leia’s,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t trust you; I’ve never told anybody.”

Saw Gerrera’s laboured breathing filled what would have otherwise been a silence. A handy trick, one was pressed to admit. Bail found himself wondering if Gerrera would benefit from supplemental oxygen; if he had the access and the spare pride to see to that. Alderaan’s medical care was excellent; he could offer him help. But he would never, ever take it, and it would be foolish to take him to Alderaan. “Not even your lovely wife?” Gerrera rasped.

“Not all that I know,” Bail replied. Carefully, he had implied that there was more, that he did not know the full tale. “Really, Saw. Leia’s favourite colour is yellow, and she likes to play that I’m a nerf.”

“Jyn’s favourite colour is red, and… she likes to play that I am a wampa.”

Bail smiled. “A fearsome creature,” he said. “Alas, I am a mountainside herbivore.”

“Don’t forget scruffy-looking,” said Saw.

“And wampas aren’t?”

Saw Gerrera’s mouth opened, and he unmistakably cackled. Bail’s grin widened. See, he wanted to say, isn’t this nice? No suspicion, no espionage, just two beings who love their children? “You want to tell a wampa that to its face?” demanded Saw.

"I’d much rather say it to the face of a friend,” said Bail, before his brain could catch up to his mouth. It was a rare occasion that he said something without considering it beforehand, but obviously he had been feeling at ease, not under threat, and that was something that bore a significant amount of thought.

Gerrera was still for a moment, then squinted, gasping in a huge breath. “And where,” he rasped, his voice a razorblade’s blunt edge, “would you have one of those?”

“Perhaps I misspoke,” said Bail, leaning backwards.

Gerrera mirrored the move. He looked disappointed. “Or,” revised Bail, “perhaps I could locate one... without looking very far.”

“Coward,” Gerrera condemned, glaring a blaster-hole into Bail’s skull. “Say what you mean, not what you think won’t make you another enemy.” Then he sighed, and slumped. All of a sudden, the mighty warrior had deflated, and he rubbed at his forehead with a palm. “This is why I don’t have them,” he said, not looking up at Bail.

“Friends?” asked Bail. His tone was gentle, again.

Gerrera groaned. “Yeah. Those.”

Bail said, “I haven’t asked you yet, how is Jyn ill? She will be okay?”

“It’s just the flu,” said Saw. “She will be fine. Just kept me up. The little brat.”

Bail’s lips curled upwards. “I don’t suppose you have a holo?” he asked, shifting a little closer to the larger man, so as to better see a proffered image.

Gerrera’s eye twitched at him, but it didn’t seem to be out of any aggression. “Only if you have one that’s not the officially sanctioned newsfeed garbage.”

In response, Bail plunged one hand into the pocket of his trousers, and pulled out a little holoprojector, a chip already inserted. He turned it on, and the two of them watched a young princess of a Core world planet laughing on a loop, her clothes muddied, and wicked intent in her eyebrows. Gerrera scooted over, watching her closely. “I like that one,” he decided. Bail ducked his head, closing his eyes, as he returned the projector to its pocket.

“She’s a handful,” he said, fondly.

“All of the best ones are,” Saw Gerrera said, and pulled out an image of his own. The girl was a few years older than Leia, but her appearance was similar. She fired a blaster too big for her, then turned to the viewer – to Saw – with evident pride. The video stream shook, as the holocamera was handed over, and panned back to include Saw, just for a moment, as Jyn flung herself into his arms.

Bail could have put voice to a lot of thoughts, as Saw Gerrera no doubt knew fully. He could have talked about danger, or psychological development, or all number of things. But he said, “she loves you.”

Saw looked almost surprised, maybe because he had expected Bail not to say it, or because he had expected that Bail would assume that it hadn’t needed saying. “Yes,” he said, eventually, and flicked it off. “Yes, she does. And I love her.” The last sentence was defiant; daring Senator Organa to challenge.

Bail said, “I did not doubt that.” And he hadn’t. Anyone who began conversations with ‘my child,’ instead of, ‘sorry I’m late,’ loved that child, not unless they said it with resentment.

“Let’s not go back inside, eh?” asked Gerrera.

Bail raised his eyebrows. But he agreed.

Unexpectedly, after what was at least a standard hour, Gerrera asked, “If I go in for a hug, will you trust me not to stab you?”

Bail stood up, and spread his arms wide. “On my honour,” he promised.

Saw laughed again, and stood up too. His hug was tight, and hard from being in armour, but its sincerity was obvious. He wouldn’t notice, through his armour, if Bail patted his back, so he slapped his arm lightly instead. Saw pounded him on the back as they released, and Bail doubled over, caught by surprise. Saw laughed, and wheezed, and they both coughed, then kept laughing. It was mostly out of relief, not humour – that they had achieved an understanding between them, that they managed to dodge this meeting, to talk about love instead of hate for a few hours. Admiral Raddus and Senator Pamlo, passing by deep in conversation, threw them dubious looks at the undignified and unusual sight.

“We can never do that again,” said Saw Gerrera.

“I know,” said Bail Organa.

“I still hate your policies,” said Gerrera. “They’re complicit in the Empire's wrongdoings.”

“And yours border on the unjustifiably personal and unforgivably cruel,” replied Organa.

“But.” said Saw Gerrera. “Your kid is cute. Real menace. I like that.”

Bail Organa’s smile was a bit sad, but it wasn’t entirely. It was friendly, with 'friend' the apt word, too. “On that,” he said, “we do agree. I hope we can also agree that yours is, too.”

“Yes,” decided Saw. “We can agree on, at least, that.”