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[Bernard]

From the window view it became clear that the Trailing Cat Diner had a bustling atmosphere. The two waitresses hurried from filled table to filled table, setting down fresh cups and full plates or collecting empty ones, while, behind the counter, the Besalisk cook tossed four pans at the same time, and an elderly owner noted orders on a datapad. Customers occupied nearly every open seat and table. With so many of them, even finding a familiar face became troublesome.

Cozy orange light radiated from inside, illuminating the rain as it pitter pattered onto grey permacrete. Silhouetted against the light, a the image of a loth cat holding two cups had been hand-drawn against the entrance door. By any measure, it was an archaic technique, but it added a sense of homeliness reminiscent of simpler days.

Bernard pushed open the glass door and stepped inside. Water rolled off his coat. He took a moment to shake it off, wiping his boots on the welcome mat.

The scent of freshly brewed stimcaf and sizzling puffer pig filled the air. Forks and knives clinked against plates over the stir of a dozen or so conversations.

“Howdy! What’ll it be, stranger?” The owner called over the commotion.

She’d found a few moments in between orders and had used it to give a proper welcome to another customer, trying to get ahead of business.

“Just a rootleaf tea, please,” Bernard had to raise his voice above the line crowding the seats at the counter.

“Comin’ right up!” The owner replied.

Bernard navigated the busy walkway between counter and tables onto one of the few open seats. The counter was packed with folks enjoying their food or waiting for their orders. It was difficult to fit between his neighbours, even with his shoulders tucked. He turned around to search the faces sitting at the various tables when a cup hit the counter in front of Bernard, almost startling him.

“Here you go. Three credits,” the owner said.

The owner had already moved on to another customer, but held out her hand for the credit chips. Bernard dug a handful from his pocket and dropped them into her palm. They disappeared into the register with the same speed as his cup of tea had appeared.

Bernard cradled the cup between his gloves, careful not to spill anything as he stood up. He held the tea close, leaning only a little past the line of customers at the counter to take another look around.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

Late wasn’t a word she ever wanted to be described as.

And she’d been spending a lot of time trying to get out of a conversation that wasn’t going anywhere. Each minute that ticked by, stole a minute from a conversation she’d rather be having.

A rodian in ill-fitted clothing had been hot on her heels, walking silently at first, and then they asked for credits. It took a while to communicate properly between the two of them, and gesture enough to get to something that matched basic. When they were finally on the same page, at first, she’d said no — supposing they might go off and abuse their finances. That’s what she’d always been told would happen. But then they changed their ask to something more finite, harder to say no to. They asked for something to eat.

And Ishida, as it so happened, was going somewhere for a tea at least.

So, to not compromise on her timing, and delay her arrival any longer, she relented and let her new situational companion follow her along to the — where was it again — ah, the Trailing Cat Diner.

At the door, her shoulders sunk. Condensation ran up the corners of the glass from all the conversation inside. It looked incredibly packed, so much so, that bringing in another mouth might mean they’d have to be around longer than a quick bite to eat.

“Looks like you’re ordering to go.” Ishida instructed and stepped under the awning before yanking the door open. Hot air hit her in a rush, and she frowned. The Roadian at her side peered in, over her shoulder, and made eye contact with as many tables as they could, and they trumpeted agreement.

It was incredibly busy inside, and the white noise of chit-chat was almost disorienting. Her green friend nudged her back and they moved from the door frame, letting it close behind them. While Ishida first looked for a place to hang her wet coat, the rodian charged ahead through the narrow passageway to where they could order.

“Hey!” Ishida hissed, reaching out to grab their arm. She missed, and almost ended up knocking a tray from a passing waitress who shot her an agitated glare.

 

[Bernard]

The door chimed when another pair of customers walked in. They stood obscured behind a pillar and a rushing waitress. Bernard couldn’t quite see them, but he wasn’t looking for two. Tall backs and broad shoulders blocked his view to the sides, and rushing figures made it hard to see everywhere else. If he was to have any chance of finding her he’d need somewhere else to stand and search.

He stepped away from the counter, toward the narrow aisle that led toward the lowered dining area where all the tables were. His foot barely landed when a Rodian shoved past him out of nowhere, bumping into his shoulder.

Bernard’s body twisted as he tried to regain his balance. He stumbled once, twice, but ultimately lost against gravity. He fell with a twirl, tea spilling into the air above, and crashed into someone with his back.

The waitress yelped in surprise as Bernard bumped into her side. The platter of food she carried flew from its balanced perch atop her fingers, and she scrambled to catch herself on one of the floor-bolted tables. Bernard slammed into the ground with a thud and a groan, followed by the patter of tea raining onto floor and clothes alike.

“Ah!” Bernard gasped.

The tea seeped through his sweater and shirt, still scalding hot.

Bernard twisted onto his side, airing out the sweater, and rolled into more of the liquid. The tea was hot against his shoulder, and he took in a sharp breath, then slowly released it again.

He shuffled his way upright, to his knees. The shock and the heat were slowly abating, but now he had a large stain covering half of his beige sweater, and spilled tea to boot.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

Ishida saw Bernard only a half beat before calamity took over. Her missing the rodian’s elbow meant their speed was never diluted, and their hunger drove them forward. Blindly.

Any other gesture she made was fruitless too. Her focus on the rodian prevented her from doing anything helpful at all with the flying tea or falling waitress. It wasn’t until everyone had settled in their places, rodian at the bar with a lot of alarmed looks aimed at him, waitress brushing herself off, that Ishida managed to crouch by Bernard’s side.

The activity around them returned back to normal, and she could faintly hear the sound of the rodian’s trumpeting an order out. It sounded long.

“Ohno.” Sailed out in a woosh, and she moved her hands to his shoulders as if to help him up. “Are you okay?”

She made a face and looked at the darkened spot.

“Busy place you picked."

 

[Bernard]

“A very movable object just met an unstoppable hunger, is all,” Bernard said, climbing to his feet.

He pinched a handful of napkins from a dispenser by one of the tables and began patting himself down with them.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He shook his head and tossed the napkins into a trashbin.

The stains on his sweater had barely changed, and this was the only one he’d brought out this far, too.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

A downward smile forced out at his explanation— besides being wet, maybe a bit burnt, he was fine enough to jest.

So her fretting was short lived. Bernard soaked up tea while she glanced back around. Most of the patrons who’d been disturbed were hunched back over their meals again, and resumed in conversation.

When she looked back, he seemed dryer, but the spot on his torso seemed none the lighter.

“Do we really?” Her expression looked dismayed at the idea for a lifetime of uninteresting entrances. “That’s a shame.”

An expectant noise from the counter made her turn to look and see the rodian’s large black eyes blinking back at her. The waitress staring back.

“Come on.” She reached for Bernard’s hand to pull him back to where he’d ordered minutes earlier. “Let’s get you another tea while we plan how to better meet.”

 

[Bernard]

“I don’t know if it’s safe enough for tea here. I might just stick with plain water,” Bernard said.

He climbed to his feet and stumbled after Ishida as she pulled him to the counter.

The cook put down two pans to slice a handful of carrots, scoop them up with his knife, and drop it into a boiling pot. The entire procedure took only a few seconds, after which he was back to tossing the pans he’d set down before.

Before Bernard could see more of the Basilisk’s talents at the stove, the elderly owner stepped up. Her brows were more furrowed than before, but her face kept a warm and inviting expression.

“Don’t worry, dear, we’ll have another tea for you in a jiffy,” she said, never taking her eyes off the datapad.

“Thank you,” Bernard replied, but she’d already turned away.

Behind him, the waitress was talking to someone, from the sounds of it a droid, about the mess left behind by Bernard’s fall. He turned around to see if there was an opportunity to help clean the mess up.

“We most certainly have to if you want me to still be alive by the end of the month,” he said to Ishida as he took in the scene.

The droid, a small mouse droid model, had already wiped away most of the mess and the waitress had moved on to the table to inform them of a delay. There didn’t seem to be anything for him to do.

Bernard pulled the corner of his mouth back, resigned.

“If my luck keeps up this way I’ll be crashing through a Wookiee’s restaurant next. That’ll be goodbye to my arms, then.”

 

[Ishida Ashina]

Ishida made a point of lowering her hood and making a face at Bernard for his life in a timeline joke. She looked away again, back to the rodian who now had the audacity to tap their claws on the counter. Their rhythmic impatience was matched by the person taking their order looking equally uncomfortable.

Then Bernard joked about a wookie owned restaurant and Ishida stopped her walk. Right between two tables where friends on either side of them were sharing stories over hot plates.

“You can’t lose your arms.” She said sternly, and to prove her point she pulled both Bernard’s wrists around her. “You need those.”

It was just a second in the chaos of the hustle and bustle, but it was nice.

Before Ishida could get out any proper hellos, the tapping on the counter got louder. She made a small noise at the back of her throat, and swapped back to holding one hand until they finally reached the register.

“Your companion ordered one of each item from our lunch menu. And a caf.”

Somehow, that wasn’t entirely surprising.

When the waitress expressed the total amount, Ishida glanced at the rodian who looked back unabashedly.

“Could I get a cup of tea as well?” She glanced at the list of flavours available. “Deychin.”

The waitress nodded, and updated the total.

“I only have a card.”

She looked briefly annoyed, before waving over a droid from the corner and swapped places with the robot to process the transaction.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard smiled subtly. Their last hug, he counted this, was weeks away.

The droid shuffled to their spot, finally arriving with his hand outstretched toward Ishida. Bernard stepped closer to Ishida and wrapped one arm around her while he placed a credit stick into the what passed as a palm for the droid with his free hand.

“The Rodian a friend of yours?” He asked, resting his head on top of Ishida’s. He closed the looping hug and pulled his arms snug around her.

“I always miss this the most,” he mumbled.

The difficulty with Jedi assignments didn’t so much lie with the duties themselves, Jedi duties were Jedi duties, but with their unpredictability. A whole month could go by during which they might meet only once or not at all. And those barriers kept building themselves back up in the meantime. Knocking them down became easier every time, but that was precious time lost to retracing steps.

“I don’t want us to always meet when our duties bring us together somewhere. There’s never enough time left.”

 

[Ishida Ashina]

“You don’t have to —“ Ishida started, but before she could proclaim that the rodian was her responsibility, the droid had accepted Bernard’s credit chip. She sighed, and quickly reconciled that it didn’t really matter who did the deed, so long as the deed was done.

The rodian’s snout wiggled in gratitude, and they lingered, awkwardly, in the same spot from where they ordered. Their attention was less on his benefactors, and more on the Basilisk chef’s gestures. Keenly, they watched the ingredients they ordered be prepared.

“No,” puffed out her answer, somewhat irritated at the abruptness the rodian conducted themselves with. But that distaste slipped away to meekness when Bernard cocooned her. “We met outside and he was hungry.”

She watched the first to-go bag evidence itself, sliding over to the rodian who eagerly opened it and peeked inside.

“Very hungry.”

His arms tightened and met no resistance. She missed it too. No amount of holocalls across the stars could compare to being together in one another’s arms. Imagination was a poor substitute for reality, in this case.

Ishida nodded and closed her eyes. There was little to disagree with what he said. Although, it was a much larger conversation to be had that she might have felt more comfortable doing when an opportunistic rodian wasn’t waiting on the side lines, and two cups of tea were about to be served to them in a very busy café.

Her “I know.” didn’t really sum up the entirety of the difficulty. She sank into him, and looped her arms around his still-damp coat.

“Me too.”

“Alright hun, that’s your order. Your big ‘ol buggy eyes are probably bigger than your stomach but there ya go.” The owner had taken over for her waitstaff team, and handed over the second and final parcel to the rodian who had ordered to go.

 

[Bernard]

Ishida returned his embrace but, despite the warmth, he’d struck a somber chord that didn’t let up.

He held her close. His eyes followed the Rodian as they picked up the food and slipped out of the diner as quickly as they’d entered it, though sans the same collateral.

The owner came up to them again and set down two cups.

“One deychin, one rootleaf for the lovebirds,” she joked before she returned to the pile of orders waiting next to the cash register.

A shadow of self-consciousness came over Bernard, but he didn’t break off their embrace as he picked up the cardboard holding the two cups.

“Let’s find a table somewhere,” Bernard said. “We really need to talk this through.”

 

[Ishida Ashina]

Ishida felt her cheeks warm at the external observation. Public displays of affection were still a nascent concept, despite how easily it came. The commentary just made awareness bleed in where it hadn’t been before.

She smiled meekly. Uncomfortably.

“In here? It’s so crowded..”

The appeal of the caféwas its normalcy, how unaffected and untouched it seemed from the effects of the war. Like they were in a pocket of an alternate universe that somehow detached from the reality that kept them apart.

Talking about that which pulled them in other directions, here, felt adulterous.

She looked through the tables. Busy, occupied. All abuzz with conversations that she, without paying much attention to, couldn’t ascertain their levels of severity. Maybe there was a certain intimacy that came with a crowd. And maybe having white noise would help them get somewhere.

“There.” She pointed, pressing his side to encourage him to face a table that was becoming vacant. A spot for two near the door, where two humans were putting their coats back on and waving to the owner before leaving.

“What made you pick this café?” She asked, setting the intent to claim the spot before anyone else did.

 

[Bernard]

With the previous occupants of the table gone, the pair claimed it.

“It’s archaic, practically a museum.” Bernard took off his jacket and set it down on the heater next to the table. ”I figured it might be cozy, compared to ship canteens. I didn’t know it would be this busy,” he said, sitting down.

The rain tapped against the window, almost inaudible against the lively chatter, sizzling, and boiling happening in the busy diner. The street outside was murky and filled with fog, through which the Rodian had already disappeared.

Bernard picked the cups from their cardboard cup carrier, setting one down in front of himself, the other in front of Ishida.

“But, no matter how busy, I don’t want this to wait, and I most definitely don’t want to discuss it over a holo. We’ll have to make due.”

He sighed quietly, his slight smile fading as he took on a more thoughtful look. He’d thought about what to say, but the weight pressing down on his chest seemed so great he didn’t know how to begin to express it. The nuances, the intricacies of the hardships weighing on the ‘us’ that in turn weighed him down.

“We only see each other every few weeks. Our duties dictate our relationship. I don’t think I can do that.”

 

[Ishida Ashina]

Finally, Ishida shed her still-wet coat and curved it over the back of the chair. The tea still looked piping hot, so she let it be untouched for now — which was good, because she might have choked if she took a sip before Bernard launched into conversation.

Instead, she went stiff.

With no coat, no arms around her, she suddenly felt very exposed across the table from him. Her heart pounded at the base of her throat, and she forced it down with a swallow. The longer she looked at him, trying to piece together the truth behind his words, the wilder her mind became. And with the noise in the restaurant, she forced herself to look at the tea instead and kept her hands below the table on her lap.

This was a conversation she felt herself having every time they hung up a starcrossed call, but to have an actual dialogue about it suddenly felt overwhelming. Their sustainability was in jeopardy.

“Hm.” She exhaled, just to try and calibrate.

Questions bounced around in her mind, swinging and looping and intersecting with one another.

“It has been hard.” Ishida agreed slowly.

How did others manage?

“I don’t —” Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean you can’t do it? Which…part.”

 

[Bernard]

“The long stretches of time where we don’t see each other. Only getting a few hours here and there to enjoy being with each other, to form memories and experiences together, and only when our missions align. We’re not having this relationship on our terms, but on those of what the Jedi, the Alliance, … what the galaxy needs of us.”

Bernard’s eyes fell to the cup in his hands. He turned it around, running his thumb over the coarse fiber.

“I don’t want us to keep being unhappy like this. I can’t do that.”

 

[Ishida Ashina]

Ishida sat there and tried to look present and thoughtful. But the truth was, her mind was bouncing around like a tiny animal trying to escape a predator. She found herself only processing half of what Bernard was saying. The wrong half.

Her adrenaline was taking over, and it was hard to hear the good things sandwiched within the bad. She clung to the words that sounded like he was ready to peel away.

A tunnel was starting to burrow itself into her chest with dissolved, apoplectic speed and resentment. She could feel herself closing up, her muscles tensing and her desire to withdraw into the café’s white noise and be swallowed up by other conversations.

She stared at his hands, fiddling with the tea to-go. The table was only two and a half by two and a half feet, a perfect square, but it felt infinitely large. And his hands were growing more and more distant. Like he was already floating toward the door they were sitting so close to.

“I’m not unhappy..” Ishida forced herself to speak up. The first version was, of course, something defensive. “Sometimes, yes, but..” Words failed her again.

“I’m grateful for every one of those moments. The time between is hard.” Her voice dipped, “Almost impossible sometimes..” her eyes wandered again, until she reigned her focus back, and forced herself to steel.

“But my gratitude outweighs my greed.” That felt harsher on her tongue than she’d meant. Like she’d snapped to convince herself more than him. She felt herself flinch at the unintentional sting, a flinch that somehow managed to move through the paralysis that was bleeding into her muscles.

“It has to.”

But though he said us, and she responded to negotiate herself out of that evaluation, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t true. He was braver to say what she felt, but her mind was erratic. She tried to reign herself in again, back to the table, back to the unsolved present. Get the wild animal in her skull back into its cage, and domesticate it to be at least rational.

“Doesn’t it?”

In her lap, she pinched her fingertips together until they were white.

 

[Bernard]

“Grateful?” Bernard’s eyebrow shot up.

He leaned away from the table.

“Grateful to grow distant from the person I love because the galaxy can’t go a year without some maniac plunging it into war?” He said, waving one hand to emphasize the point. “This is the first time in weeks we—” he stopped with a sharp inhale and closed his eyes, balling his hand into a fist.

That nervous edge he’d felt all day, he’d caught it just then. It had been following him for a while now. Lingering at the edge of his perception, waiting for the moment he slipped and it could sink venomous teeth into his tongue.

His shoulders sank as he exhaled, breathing out some of the tension. There came that heaviness again, to replace the intensity he’d snuffed out. He felt tired. He didn’t want to be tired, not today.

He met Ishida’s eyes.

“Gratitude shouldn’t be all there is. You deserve more than that. We deserve more.”

 

[Ishida Ashina]

His eyes were steady on hers and Ishida was silent. The words exchanged settled and marinated in the space between them.

Beneath the table, her fingers were starting to sting. She stopped pressing on them, and flattened her palms to her knees, flexing her fingers a few times to try and keep herself focused and not withdraw.

“This is crazy.” Ishida muttered, finally bringing her hands above the table to brace either side of her temples and drop her elbows on the table for support.

“You’d think with us being on the same side, fighting for the same thing, we wouldn’t have to have this conversation.”

But more, deserving more, getting more, that comes with less of something else.

“I can’t see you giving less of yourself to the jedi or the council.”

 

[Bernard]

“I can,” he whispered.

Bernard’s brows furrowed, and his gaze fell away from Ishida. The leather of his gloves quietly creaked, but he sat motionless in the chair.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

That feeling that had been growing in her chest had been mislabeled as resentment. Because when it ballooned out at his affirmation, it remained undefined but still consuming.

Her lips half-parted in surprise, and the confusion in her expression tightened into something more critical.

That feeling must have been fear, then. She’d been afraid to ask this. To venture into this territory and what it would mean to have their relationship on their terms because it would demand selfishness.

“You can see yourself..” she tried to repeat the sentiment back to him, but words failed each time. They started, shapes of sounds, and ended before becoming anything intelligent.

“How?”