Who: Matt Silva and Lydia Evans, with an appearance from Freya Shepherd What: Exes run into each other for the first time in two years. Where: Camelot Castle When: Forward dated to Monday, February 17th, 2020 Warnings: Probably just huge amounts of awkward?
The problem with debriefing was that it never took very long. Barely an hour to sum up a mission that spanned three months, two countries, and below freezing temperatures, which hardly seemed fair. The mission was a success – Alaska and the Yukon were safe from Resistance entrenchment, whoop-de-doo – but nothing would make up for the countless hours Matt had spent ass-deep in a snow drift actually wishing he had a some kind of miniature tauntaun with its guts sliced open so he could keep his toes from falling off. But those were the kind of details Camelot's Head of Combat didn't appreciate, so as always, Matt kept the editorializing to a minimum.
Maybe if he had, the meeting would've lasted longer, kept him distracted. Maybe if he'd come a day later, they'd've had another mission ready for him and they wouldn't have dismissed him so fast – or worse, told him to come back after the next intelligence reports came in the following week. Maybe then he wouldn't have had to duck down a random hallway to avoid one of the many Morgan/Evans/Who-The-Hell-Could-Even-Keep-Track siblings he'd been avoiding during these brief interludes in the castle for two years now.
He hated being back here. Hated remembering that, no so long ago, he'd actually lived here, in a damn castle, and he'd liked it. Loved it, actually.
But what he really hated right now was that he didn't recognize this hallway or the ones attached to it, and he couldn't remember the way out.
"Perfect. Just perfect." Matt leaned back against the nearest wall, running a hand over his face in exasperation and laughing under his breath. This was just his luck. The one place he wanted to get out of as fast as possible was also the one place he could never keep track of. He racked his brain for a quick fix and suddenly remembered Lachlan. The Jedi was Security with – you know what, not important, but there was a pretty good chance he was in the castle doing Security stuff, and for once Matt had his phone with him. A relieved smile pulled at the corner of Matt's mouth as he pulled the phone from his pocket, but it was gone just as quickly.
Dead. He'd forgotten to charge the damn thing. Again.
Matt stared at the phone blankly and was seriously considering throwing it in the nearest trashcan where it belonged when he heard a voice, coming from a doorway a few feet away from him. "Um, are... you okay?"
Looking up, Matt saw a girl – a young woman, rather, but she had one of those faces that looked younger than it probably was, and instantly made him feel old. A new face around here, he thought, judging from the hesitance in her voice. People who'd been here awhile got more confident talking to fellow members of Camelot after hanging out in the castle for a few weeks; she wasn't quite there yet. But the fact that she was new was less interesting to him than the fact that her blonde hair was up in a messy bun and her loose athletic tank was all but soaked through with sweat.
Training! It was like a lightbulb going off over his head – he was near the gyms, and she must've been coming out of the women's locker room. No wonder he didn't recognize the hallway.
Matt flashed a smile at her and pushed himself off the wall. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, thanks. Just lost my bearings for second there."
"I get that." The girl smiled, relaxing just enough to uncross her arms and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm still figuring out my way around. I just... felt some mild turmoil out here, thought I should investigate."
Matt's brow furrowed. 'Mild turmoil?' From him? He wasn't someone who ever felt anything as undignified as turmoil. And – wait. He raised an eyebrow. "Felt?"
"Yeah," the girl shrugged. "Comes with being a Jedi." She stuck out a hand, perfectly frank, and Matt had his own Jedi moment: he knew who she was the instant before she told him. Felt like déjà vu all over again – thrilling and somehow disorienting all at once. If this was how Skywalkers felt all the time, Matt couldn't say he envied them. Just this once, though, he let himself enjoy the feeling, a slow grin unfolding on his face as she told him her name.
"I'm Freya. Also Rey." A sheepish smile briefly crossed her face. "Still feels weird introducing myself twice."
"Well, Freya, I'm here to tell you it never gets any less weird." He took her hand and shook it firmly, still smiling. "I'm Matt. Also Han."
The look on her face was almost worth this shitty day in this shitty, amazing place that brought back too many memories. If he was honest with himself, being Han Solo stopped being something interesting about himself a long time ago. He wasn't sure when it had become an afterthought, like, oh yeah, Matt Silva, he's that guy with brown hair, brown eyes, and Han Solo in his head, no biggie. But the way Freya looked at him now, with the same kind of amazement that had been in Rey's eyes (and maybe something else, but it was gone before he could figure out what) when she first met the smuggler who made the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs (rounding down), reminded him that it was kind of a biggie. That was a nice feeling. Good thing he wasn't the type to let it get to his head.
A gruff laughed echoed in the back of his head. You sure about that, kid?
"Oh – oh my god!" Freya laughed. "That's amazing! It's so nice to meet you, Matt, Rey's been –" Freya's eyes glanced over his shoulder, seeing something behind him. He didn't think it was possible, but her smile got even wider. "Oh, hi, Lydia!"
Matt's stomach dropped as if he'd just taken a nose dive in his fighter craft. There it was. The icing on top of the cake he'd been so, so keen on avoiding. The grin fell from his face as though it'd been slapped off, and he felt frozen in place, stuck, trapped, nowhere to go, no escape in sight. He did not want to turn around, because he knew what he'd see. But he knew he was going to, one way or another, because part of him did want to see. It was just a part he'd been denying for two years now.
No denying it now.
Freya caught on quick. Her smile faltered as she looked back and forth between Matt and the woman behind him. He doubted she needed Jedi powers to realize something less than pleasant was probably about to happen, and she took a step backward, toward the door she'd just come out of.
Nononono, Matt thought desperately, eyes widening, and she shot him a perceptive but ultimately sympathetic look, as if she read his mind. "You know what? I just remembered I left one of the showers running. I'll.... talk to you guys later!"
Freya mouthed a "sorry" just before she turned tail and ran back into the locker room, leaving Matt alone with his worst nightmare. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he turned around to face said nightmare, there was another grin on his face – harder to read, but clearly false. It was all he could muster, and even he knew it wouldn't be enough.
"..... Heyyy, Lydia. You, uh. You change your hair?"