General
Morning gathered slowly at Dee'ja Peak, the kind of dawn that did not arrive all at once but unfolded in quiet layers. Snow drifted down in lazy spirals, catching on the sharp edges of stone and the soft curves of frost-laden pines. The peak stood high above the plains, watching over Naboo like a patient sentinel, its ancient rock faces softened by white. Far below, the valleys still slept beneath a thin veil of mist, and the distant waterways reflected the pale rose and gold of the rising sun.
Cassian Abrantes crested the final incline with an ease that came from familiarity rather than effort. His boots left clean impressions in the untouched snow as he moved, breath fogging briefly in the cold before disappearing. Slung over one shoulder was a neatly bundled pack, secured with care, gifts for the family, wrapped in simple paper and twine, practical and thoughtful in that unmistakably Cassian way. The festivites for life day were always celebrated in the greatest of ways, the season of giving lingered, carried forward in moments like this.
He paused near the overlook, setting the pack down beside him as he took in the view. The wind brushed past his coat, tugging lightly at the fabric, but he barely noticed. His expression, usually reserved, watchful, was open in a way few ever saw. There was no weight pressing between his shoulders this morning. No calculations running beneath the surface. Just quiet, and snow, and the vast beauty of the world laid out before him.
Graham Deras was gone.
The thought surfaced without bitterness, without the old tension that usually accompanied the name. Dealt with. Finished. The Agency would confirm the details soon enough, but Cassian already felt the truth of it settle into his bones. A long chapter closed. No more shadows trailing too close. No more contingency plans written in sleepless nights. For once, the victory didn't feel hollow, it felt earned.
A small, almost disbelieving smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
He straightened, shoulders rolling back as if something unseen had finally loosened its grip. The mountain air felt sharper, cleaner, and he drew in a slow breath, savoring it. He imagined the family gathered below, warm lights in the windows, voices overlapping, the quiet chaos of togetherness waiting just beyond the descent. The gifts in his pack shifted softly as he lifted it again, the faint sound grounding him in the present.
Cassian began the walk down with unhurried steps, the crunch of snow underfoot steady and rhythmic. Above him, the sun climbed higher, casting long beams of light across Dee'ja Peak and setting the morning aglow. For the first time in a long while, Cassian Abrantes wasn't simply surviving the galaxy.
Cassian didn't bother knocking.
By the time he reached the front steps, the familiar presence of the house had already wrapped around him, the quiet hum of warmth inside, the faint scent of spiced caf and evergreen drifting through the seams of the door. The snow clung to his coat and shoulders, glittering faintly in the morning light as he shifted the pack higher and lifted a hand toward the entry panel.
The door opened before his knuckles could touch.
"Master Cassian," Caleb said, already smiling, his voice carrying that practiced calm that never quite masked genuine fondness.
Cassian's face broke fully then. No guard, no restraint. He stepped forward without hesitation and pulled the older man into a firm hug, one arm braced carefully around Caleb's back, mindful but sincere.
"Good to see you," Cassian said, voice low but warm. "Life Day's not the same if you're not the first face I see."
Caleb chuckled softly, returning the embrace with surprising strength for someone who claimed he was 'far too old for such enthusiasm' When they separated, Cassian was already shrugging the pack from his shoulder.
"Hold on," Cassian added, fingers moving quickly as he opened it. "This one's for you."
He reached in and withdrew a smaller parcel, wrapped neatly and secured with a ribbon in deep house colors. He pressed it into Caleb's hands without ceremony, the gesture natural, practiced, something he'd clearly thought about long before arriving.
"For all the times you've kept this place running when the rest of us were scattered across the galaxy," Cassian said. "And for pretending you don't worry."
Caleb's brows lifted, expression softening as he accepted the gift. "You didn't have to..."
"I know," Cassian interrupted gently. "That's why I did."
For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to the warm entryway and the quiet understanding between them. Then Cassian glanced past him, toward the deeper glow of the house, where muffled voices and laughter carried faintly through the halls.
"So," he asked, adjusting the strap of the pack again, "where is everyone?"
Caleb's smile widened, something conspiratorial lighting his eyes. "In the family room," he said. "They insisted on waiting. Said gifts are to be opened properly. Together."
Cassian let out a soft breath, something close to a laugh. The kind that came from relief more than humor. He took a step inside, warmth chasing the cold from his bones as the door closed behind him. The weight of the pack felt different now, lighter, somehow. The hard parts of the galaxy were behind him, at least for today.
And his family was waiting.