Fire and Ice epilogue

written by the former co writer

Zev and Saira were practically up to their waists in the foamy; green-blue waters of the ocean. Their children, it seemed, were even more daring, venturing out from under their parents’ watchful eyes as much as they could manage. At the moment; Reinard and Derrick were splashing merrily about in the surf or alternately; pretending to zap and shoot at each other with their water toys. Ori, on the other hand, was apparently the most placid of the three- for she was sitting by her lonesome on the white sand, dutifully constructing a sand castle and decorating it with shells, pebbles, and little bits of sea glass.

On a lumpy and misshapen hill sparsely dotted with marram grass; an older man watched the young family frolic with a special kind of wistfulness- He, too, had once been a father; with a beautiful and loving wife, and small children who were carted from place to place on adventure after adventure. He was not all that old- not quite sixty- but seemed to have prematurely aged somewhat before his time:

Clearly, he’d been very handsome in his youth but was now since beginning to gray; with a hardened face that was beginning to turn leathery and acquire an excess of lines. He was dark-haired, although it was since beginning to become plagued by the first streaks of silver.

Maximilian Veers (Once a Lieutenant-Colonel but now retired; thank you very much!) had dealt with more than his share of tragedies in under six decades of living- First, his wife had died.

Years later he thought he had found love again only to have been cruelly deceived by a sultry and licentious vixen named Leslie Walker. His second child, a daughter, (of whom Leslie had been the mother) had been plagued by nonexistent voices and bizarre hallucinations since the time she was nine; and these had only intensified by the time Hester was fourteen. And had been raped by a sickening, lecherous man who was more than old enough to have been her father.

And then, Hester had died. Faded uneventfully from this world after giving birth to Reinard; who was now happily playing with his cousins- siblings- on the beach at this very instant. Hester had been far too young to die, too young to birth; and yet she had done both at the age of sixteen.

The medical reports said she had suffered fatal hemorrhaging that several transfusions and repeated doses of medication could not repair. It also noted that Hester had only regained consciousness once, for a brief period, before entering a coma and dying: She had asked to see and hold her baby boy, who was six pounds even and absurdly healthy.

Fully aware of the girl’s fragile state- that was liable to change for the worse at any time- the medics obliged Hester and allowed her to see her child. Strangely, Hester did not bother to give the boy a name; but other than that, she treated him as any mother would: Cuddling him against her, playing with his tiny hands, stroking the downy first hairs on his head, etc.

At one point Hester removed her gown and allowed the infant to suckle away at her heavy and swollen breasts. After putting her clothes back on and returning her newborn son to the cradle beside the bed; it was written that Hester had fallen peacefully asleep and simply had never woken up.

Half an hour later it was reported that she was no longer breathing and her pulse was dangerously low- The available medical staff had done everything in their power to resuscitate the girl, but it was to no avail. Her time of death was taken down as nineteen hundred hours and oh-eight minutes.

Almost instantly, Zev and Saira were on the situation- They had been married for three years by then; and had two toddlers of their own. It was no problem at all, they said, to raise their little nephew as though he were their own son. They managed to track down the medical center listed as having distributed Hester’s death certificate; and journeyed there to pick up her little boy- who was named Reinard. (on a more bittersweet note, they had also come to collect Hester’s body as well.)

Getting custody, thankfully, was not a challenge at all- It was discovered that Magnus Drayson had no living relatives of which officials were aware; and it only seemed like the fair and rational thing to do that the boy be reared by his closest relatives on his mother’s side. And so, negotiating Reinard’s living arrangements did not turn out to be particularly difficult at all.

Which brings us to the present: As he grew, Reinard had always been a happy, healthy, and perfectly normal little boy. He had his mother and grandfather’s fair blue eyes, but also the silky dark blonde hair that had been one of a younger Drayson’s trademarks. For a while, it became a cause for concern when Reinard was about three and began babbling eagerly away about a ‘pretty lady’ who visited him in his dreams.

He was more than happy to note that she looked like him, but that they had different hair and that she was also ‘sad sometimes’. Despite the fact that he was only three years old, Zev and Saira did not want to lie to their son either, and so they came up with a compromise:

The little boy was told that the woman he saw in his dreams was in fact his biological mother; which made his mummy and daddy actually Aunt Saira and Uncle Zev, and his brother and sister his older cousins. Thankfully, though, Reinard handled this news ridiculously well; perhaps because he was still so young, and could not be told the circumstances of his birth- as well as his biological father- for years and years to come.

For now, it was best to keep things as they were. Reinard Veers knew his biological mother as a kind and pretty-faced young woman who had died because she wasn’t old enough to have babies; which made perfect sense to him at his current age of five. She had become something of an imaginary friend, in a way, and Reinard was starting to insist his parents save a seat for her at the table when they had their meals.

Despite all the death and tragedy that he had endured in his life thus far; Maxmilian Veers felt oddly content at the moment. He continued to watch his grandsons play among the surf while the more serious Ori sat on the sand and constructed things. He was not aware, though, that anyone in particular would notice him at all; let alone come bounding past him on the sand!

“…..Daddy, why do you have to be so slowwwww?! What if Reinard from school is here?? I told him we were going to play Jedi together!”

“…..All right, Qui-Gon, all right. Won’t you hold your horses for once? You’re four years old, you’re a big boy now; and I don’t think Reinard will mind if you’re a few minutes late.”

An entourage of several people- three of whom were alien, and two of whom were not- came strolling casually by: A long-legged young woman with black hair and blue eyes who was wearing a tasteful blue bathing suit and had slathered her pale skin with several layers of suntan lotion. She was accompanied by a Dathomirian woman with a typical chalk-white complexion; and who was also covered in tattoos of purple and red. She held a little boy of about four by the hand. His skin tone matched his mother’s, but already he had a mop of mousy-looking brown hair and eyes to match, and he was dressed in a pair of swim trunks that seemed to be decorated with a variety of sea creatures.

Oh, yes. It was a little face Veers vaguely recognized- Qui-Gon Piett; Reinard’s best friend in school about whom he prattled constantly, and who was also the son of…..!

As though on cue, a very familiar man and his teenage daughter brought up the rear: He was dressed in a casual, loose-fitting shirt and trousers rather than a bathing suit and had what seemed to be a lightsaber strapped and sheathed to his side. He seemed to be about a decade or so younger than Veers, with straight, medium-brown hair and eyes- eyes that matched his son and daughter’s- that seemed to fairly gleam with mischief.

Turning to look at his daughter, Angel, Firmus told her:

“You tell your mother and brother I’ll be there in a few minutes, all right? I just want to catch up with an old friend of mine for a bit.”

“Okay, okay….Sure….”

Angel muttered in the manner of a typical sulky adolescent; and was quickly off.

And now, it seemed, Veers and Firmus were alone.

“Hello there, Max!”

Firmus had to raise his voice to be heard over the ocean wind.

“It’s been a while, hmm?”

“Yes….It certainly has been, hasn’t it?”

A long silence in which only the gentle whisperings of the sea could be heard, further establishing the lonely mood.

“….You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

The other man’s tone, though, was sympathetic and not at all accusatory.

“Yes, I…..There are some days when I can’t stop. I don’t think that I can help it; really….Reinard…He….Reminds me of his mother. Very, very much so.”

Firmus went to sit beside his old friend on the sand.

“I’m sure he’ll honor her memory just as soon as he’s old enough….Your grandson’s a beautiful little boy; and I ought to know- my own son can go on about him for hours.”

Veers produced a wearied smile at this, but said nothing.

“You believe in the Force, don’t you, Max?”

“I do, yes, actually.”

“Then take comfort in the fact that your daughter is looking down on you- and also on him- and that you’ll meet again someday….. And me….Well, I’m sorry; but I’ve got to be off. Family, and all that.”

Veers gave a stiff and formal nod in acknowledgment and began to mull over what Firmus had told him long after he had gone. He realized that to an extent, what his old friend had said was in fact very true: If one looked closely enough, Hester indeed remained. He could see her, most importantly, in the son who looked more like her with each day that passed.

Perhaps inevitably, though, he stirred upon hearing Reinard’s happy; distant shrieks of:

“Grandpa! Grandpa, come on!!”

And with that, Veers reluctantly but curiously rose from his seated position and ran off down the dunes. His family, too, was waiting.

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