They are partners, him and Cassian and Jyn (and K and Chirrut and Baze), or at least he's hoped as much. Bodhi's tries to reconcile how it feels to hear that said aloud with the extreme time discrepancy Cassian seems to be struggling with, draws a breath to point out they were both children twelve years ago, when Cassian says:
Our son
He chokes on nothing, shoulders hitching forward as though absorbing a blow to the chest. The rest of Cassian's factoids register, but get shunted aside like debris from a deflector shield. A programmer? A garage? No Rebellion? By extension, no Empire?
"I--" he doesn't mean to snatch his hands away, exactly, they come up on reflex to grab at his temples. The dull ache constantly hunkered down behind his eyes stirs at all the uproar, pushing at the thin stitches of his psyche. "It's not, I don't, I don't think it is, but I--I have--trouble, with, with remembering what's r-r-real, where I--am, sometimes." His vision blurs, overlaps, Cassian's outline peeling into two separate silhouettes. Bodhi screws his eyes closed. "Buh-but I have to think I'd re-re--I'd know if there were a kid. If we were..."
Oh, this is bad. This is bad, he's meant to be holding himself together right now, for Cassian's sake, but what if it's all an extended episode of his own? All of it? Everything? Which 'all'?
He would know if he had a son, he tells himself. He would know if Cassian's touch on his knuckles were familiar. He would. He would.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2018-11-22 07:56 am (UTC)Our son
He chokes on nothing, shoulders hitching forward as though absorbing a blow to the chest. The rest of Cassian's factoids register, but get shunted aside like debris from a deflector shield. A programmer? A garage? No Rebellion? By extension, no Empire?
"I--" he doesn't mean to snatch his hands away, exactly, they come up on reflex to grab at his temples. The dull ache constantly hunkered down behind his eyes stirs at all the uproar, pushing at the thin stitches of his psyche. "It's not, I don't, I don't think it is, but I--I have--trouble, with, with remembering what's r-r-real, where I--am, sometimes." His vision blurs, overlaps, Cassian's outline peeling into two separate silhouettes. Bodhi screws his eyes closed. "Buh-but I have to think I'd re-re--I'd know if there were a kid. If we were..."
Oh, this is bad. This is bad, he's meant to be holding himself together right now, for Cassian's sake, but what if it's all an extended episode of his own? All of it? Everything? Which 'all'?
He would know if he had a son, he tells himself. He would know if Cassian's touch on his knuckles were familiar. He would. He would.