Birthday Cake

A/N: Had enough mindless fluff?  That's okay.  I'm writing a super-angsty one, too.

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Birthday Cake

 

     Quite honestly, it wasn’t all that difficult for Lire to hunt down Carth’s birthday.  Mission was, after all, extremely good at hacking computer systems.  Bastila had made the mistake of uploading the Republic profiles of both Lire and Carth into T3-M4’s databank, and all Mission had to do was plug the faithful droid into the Ebon Hawk’s computer and go hunting for the desired information.  She was just the sort of girl who’d like to find out someone’s birthday without asking just to make a good surprise.  The date was found rather quickly, and it turned out to be in a mere two days.  Lire partly wanted to beat him up for not saying anything, but why should a grown man make any fuss over a birthday?  Plans started being made.  Cake recipes were downloaded from the HoloNet and pored over until the seemingly best one was chosen.  The only ones in on the little scheme were Mission and Lire herself; well, T3 was included since he had to download the recipes.  Lire firmly decided that Bastila could not be trusted to keep a secret, and Mission agreed wholeheartedly, so the star Padawan was never informed of the plan.  Carth, as they hoped, was completely oblivious to their plot to brighten a day which might otherwise have gone unnoticed.

     The afternoon before Carth’s birthday was when Lire decided to bake the cake.  Everyone except Jolee had left the ship and gone into Anchorhead to purchase supplies, and Lire had sent Mission armed with a special grocery list naming ingredients for frosting and a very specific blaster part as well as wrapping paper and ribbon.  Lire wanted an antique Telos-made scope and not the more common generic Czerka or Aratech one; she knew such and upgrade existed even after the planet’s decimation because she’d seen it with her own eyes at the Czerka store, and she herself had placed it on layaway weeks ago.  And so, the ship was empty and quiet even though Bastila had protested, citing a distinct phobia of getting sand in her hair as a good enough reason to stay behind. 

     Recipe in hand, Lire took charge of the Hawk’s undersized galley, almost tearing the cabinets to shreds in her mad quest to locate all the proper ingredients for the perfect birthday cake.  It was to be chocolate; this she had decided after noticing that Carth had quite the soft spot for the stuff.  That sweet tooth was the primary reason he had complainingly muttered something about having recently gained five pounds.  Lire chuckled to herself at that thought as she set about preparing the cake batter, and she was so wrapped up in her task that she didn’t notice when Jolee ambled into the galley to watch.  All went well at first; there was more than enough flour and sugar and certainly plenty of milk since Bastila claimed drinking it kept her complexion clear.  But the heart of a chocolate cake was indeed the chocolate, yet try as she might, Lire could not find a single ounce of cocoa.  She turned toward the galley door and leaned out into the hall.

     “Jolee!” she called. “Where’d you put the cocoa?”

     Jolee, sitting at the table there in the galley, grumbled under his breath.

     “No need to yell so loud, lass,” he harrumphed. “I’m right here.”

     Lire sighed and blushed as she turned to face him, looking ever so faintly harried by the search for the missing ingredient.

     “Sorry,” she apologized, “but where’s the cocoa?”

     “We don’t have any, lass,” the old man replied, pushing himself up from the table and easing over to the pantry. “But I’ve got somethin’ that’ll do just as fine, and it’s better for ya anyway, y’know.”

     He fetched down a small glass jar filled with a fine brown powder that looked in every way identical to cocoa.  Lire eyed it suspiciously as he handed it to her, and she unscrewed the lid to take a discerning sniff of it.  Well, it didn’t smell dissimilar to chocolate, so she shrugged and proceeded to measure out the amount she needed.  As she stirred the batter, Jolee glanced at her.

     “You’re gonna need some extra sugar, lass,” he said gently, if not amusedly.  Watching Lire bake a cake was indeed humorous, for she was going at it with as much fervor as she did her Jedi training.  Lire sighed.

     “I’ve got two cups as it is, Jolee.  Carth’s already complaining about gaining weight everyday.”

     “He’s exaggerating.  That boy hasn’t gained any.  Y’think that if he had, that garish coat o’ his would still be fittin’ as nice as it does?  And how about his trousers, hey?  Nah, that boy’s just makin’ a mountain out of a rodent hole.”

     “He’s not exactly a boy, Jolee,” Lire laughed as she gave the thick brown batter another stir before pouring it into a pan.  Jolee waved his hand dismissively.

     “Bah, all y’all are kids t’ me.  Canderous isn’t much older than Carth; just looks that way from all the battle scars.  Acts twice his age, too, goin’ on like he does ‘bout the ‘good ol’ days.’  Bah, that boy wouldn’t know good ol’ days if they bit him on the backside.”

     “You’re just a cynical old grouch,” Lire observed, her voice kind and filled with love for the old man—love such as a girl would feel for her grandfather.

     She slid the cake pan into the scorching hot oven and closed the door, setting the timer as Jolee scoffed.

     “I’m allowed to be cynical if I wanna be, dammit.  I can also be grumpy and enigmatic—”

     “And complaining of stomach cramps,” Lire finished, passing him a jar of some Wookiee potion or other that he took every day, claiming it helped keep him feeling well.

     Jolee grumbled but took a dose of the stuff as Lire turned to clean up the galley, making sure to meticulously wash every utensil, every measuring cup, before drying them and putting them all away.  She obviously didn’t want to leave a single clue to what she’d been doing all afternoon.  Of course, this attention to detail in neatening the galley would not go unnoticed; it was usually a complete wreck, especially after one of Zaalbar’s late night snack urges.  But she had an excuse for the sudden nattiness all planned out; a simple “I was bored” would suffice . . . unless Bastila took to pressing questions.  Then another plan would have to be concocted.  Until then, claiming boredom as a good excuse to clean the galley would be what Lire would do.

     She had only just finished her work when Mission cheerfully called out “We’re home!”  Jolee shuffled out to see if the group had brought the medical supplies he’d asked for, and Lire followed.  Mission greeted her with a broad smile as she thrust a large bag into Lire’s hands before skipping off.  Lire stole a quick peek inside; everything was there.  This would be wonderful.  Then she heard a dismayed cry from Bastila and looked up to see that the young Jedi had somehow acquired a pile of sand atop her head.  As she furiously shook her head, trying to dislodge every last speck, Lire couldn’t help but note that Canderous looked mischievous and Carth’s mouth was quivering with suppressed laughter.  Lire bit her lip to keep from bursting out laughing as Bastila glared at her, shaking her index finger in something of a scolding manner.

     “And that is why I had wanted to stay here,” she said, certainly not amused. “I don’t see why all of us had to go out for a few little supplies, anyway.  And if the rest of us had to go, why didn’t Jolee?”

     She brushed off the top of her head, her face scrunched with disgust—like a kinrath pup’s, as Lire often said.  Lire was just about to answer when Jolee poked his head around the medbay’s door.

     “Because I’m old, dammit,” he stated firmly, “and Lire’s got enough brains in her head to know it.  She’s got enough respect for her elders to let ‘em do what they please!”

     Bastila shook her head and sighed as she trooped off for the ladies’ dorm to clean up.  Canderous went, chuckling, off to the garage to work on his rifle, and Mission had long since vanished.  That left Carth and Lire, and Carth cast a curious glance in Lire’s direction—or, more specifically, at the bulging sack she cradled in her arms.

     “Y’know, Mission never would let me see what she was buying,” he said, almost hinting.  Lire pretended she didn’t notice. “You sneakin’ around behind folks’ back?”

     “Not at all,” Lire replied just as calmly and smoothly as she dared. “Just needed her to pick up a few things for me, is all.”

     Carth lifted both eyebrows before chuckling.  He had this knowing look about him that made Lire’s stomach turn a nervous flip.

     “Oh.  Feminine items, huh?  Well, no wonder she wouldn’t let me see.  Got that thought of how gross it’d be if a grown man saw her buying girly things.”

     Lire laughed, and it was a genuine laugh because she was relieved his guess was so very far off the mark.

     “Well, I was the exact same way at her age, so I guess it’s normal.”  She turned away, headed for the ladies’ dorm, but she paused and called back over her shoulder.  “Comes with the estrogen!”

     He laughed as he headed up to the cockpit, and Lire quickly got out of view.  At first she seemed to be walking toward the ladies’ dorm but instead made a complete about-face and went to the cargo hold.  Once there, she pried up a loose panel in the floor, beneath which was a small smuggling hold.  Into that she dropped the sack; she would see to it later when there were no prying eyes or curious questions.  She hoped no one would smell the cake, either, which was why she kept the door to the galley dutifully shut while the dessert was baking.  When that task was finished and the cake had baked perfectly, she let it cool in hiding in a low cabinet that no one ever used or looked in.  And that night, when everyone else was sound asleep, she was hard at work mixing up the frosting and wrapping the scope.  One might think she considered this occasion as important as stopping Malak from taking over the galaxy.  Mission had once teased her about having a bad crush on the dashing Republic pilot with a penchant for the color orange, but Lire knew she was much too old for schoolgirl crushes.  Perhaps, though, she did hold Carth in very high regard.  Perhaps this was why she put so much effort into surprising him on his birthday.

     Yet as history has proved time and again, even the most well-thought out and precisely executed plans tend to have some shortcoming or other that makes the entire scheme fail.  The whole next day, Lire could barely keep still, and Mission was just as excited.  No one else seemed to realize just why they were so very cheerful, and it seemed as if Carth had wished himself a happy birthday that morning and let that be it.  Lire would not stand for this, however, and neither would Mission, who had come to think of Carth as something of a big brother or a potential father figure.  So that day after lunch, Lire vanished into the galley only to return a moment later bearing the pinnacle of her culinary achievements, and the reaction she received was the one for which she had hoped.  Carth’s expression, quite frankly, was one of shock as she set the cake with its three small candles down before him, almost glowing with pride.

     “Wh . . . how . . .” he sputtered. “How did you know?!”

     “We heard you ask the Birthday Gizka for a plastic rocket and a pony,” Lire answered, deadpan.  Mission snorted with laughter as Lire chuckled. “No, actually, I had a feeling it was sometime soon, so I got Mish to look for me.”

     “And that stuff I was buying yesterday that I wouldn’t let you see?” Mission said, giggling. “Stuff for frosting!”

     Jolee was smiling almost furtively, and Bastila looked shocked that there could ever be secrets when she was around.

     “Why didn’t you tell me?!” she gasped.  Lire rolled her eyes and pushed up her sleeve.

     “Because you would’ve told him and spoiled the whole thing.”

     Mission laughed in agreement as Canderous grabbed a fork and aimed for the heart of the cake.

     “Looks jus’ fine to me,” he mumbled, but Lire smacked his hand away.

     “Wait your turn,” she chided, turning and grabbing a lighter. “Birthday boy’s gotta make his wish.  Oh, and about those candles . . .  Mish wanted to put one for every year of your age, and I was going to, but it started looking like we might run out of room.”

     “Aw, now, gorgeous, I ain’t that old . . .” Carth replied with a chuckle. “Haven’t hit forty yet.”

     “But pushin’ it!” Mission chortled.  Beside her, Zaalbar woofed with Wookiee laughter.

     Lire lit the three candles as Mission heartily instructed Carth to make a wish and blow out the tiny flickering flames, and he obliged her.  Bastila still seemed shocked that they had kept this a secret without her finding out; Canderous’ fork was still poised near the cake; Jolee still had that mysterious smile.  When the candles were extinguished and had been wrenched from the cake and licked clean of all frosting by an over-zealous Mission, Lire started to divvy up the cake.  The largest slice went naturally to Carth; Bastila declined until Lire managed to get her a teensy bit just so she could taste it.  Lire kept an eye on Carth as he speared a bite and popped it in his mouth. 

     He did a good job of hiding his surprise.  His eyebrows went up just a fraction as he carefully swallowed and glanced at Lire, evidently trying to mask his reaction to the cake and succeeding beautifully.

     “Secret recipe?” he asked.  Lire and Mission exchanged a glance.

     “I don’t think so . . .” Lire answered warily.  Zaalbar took his enormous slice and shoved it whole into his giant mouth.

     <<Tastes wonderful to me,>> he grunted. <<Could use some more sugar, though.>>

     At this, Lire and Mission raced to sample the cake.  Mission nearly gagged as Lire coughed.  She took one look at the cake before glaring at Jolee, who looked as if he might burst out laughing any minute.

     “What was in that cocoa substitute you gave me?” she asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

     “Ground wroshyr bark,” the old man answered, almost angelically. “The Wookiees use it in place of chocolate all the time.  But for it to work, you need lots more sugar.  That’s why I told you to use more, lass.”

      Lire groaned and smacked her forehead, feeling her cheeks start to glow a bright red.  Bastila quickly shoved her plate away before going to fetch some milk for herself.  Zaalbar cheerfully finished his portion and declared it to be a culinary masterpiece apart from the missing sugar.  Canderous attempted to mend the situation by getting the sugar canister from the galley and covering his slice of cake with the white granules, but that didn’t work.  He almost didn’t stop his face from contorting in disgust.  Carth chuckled at the Mandalorian merc as he scraped the frosting off his slice and good-naturedly ate that.  It, apparently, was much better-tasting than that cake could’ve been in a thousand years. 

     “Well, it’s the thought that counts, Lire,” he said. “Just don’t trust Jolee to restock the pantry anymore.”

     “We shouldn’t have in the first place . . .” Mission sighed with that air of feeling as if everything had been completely ruined.  Jolee frowned.

     “Look, lassie, in the middle of space, you’ve got to make do!  I was just tryin’ to help.”

     “I know you were, Jolee,” Lire answered with a disappointed sigh of her own, “and I don’t blame you.  I’d just wanted this to work out.”

     When Carth rose to take his plate to the galley, he dropped a quick, sudden kiss on the top of Lire’s head.  She smiled ever so faintly, causing Bastila to frown disapprovingly.  He murmured that it wasn’t that bad before heading up to the cockpit to get them headed to their next destination.  Zaalbar growled that the cake was fine in his opinion, to which Mission sadly replied that it would be, and the enormous Wookiee saw fit to eat half the cake by himself.  Trying desperately not to say a word about either the cake or that little kiss on the head, Bastila helped Lire wash and put away the lunch dishes.  Finally, as Lire was drying the last place before passing it to Bastila, Bastila took the initiative to say something.

     “I do think it was good of you to celebrate his birthday,” she said. “I’ve told you many times that he is a troubled, hurting man.  Perhaps this is a way to help him heal.”

     “Maybe,” Lire replied quietly, “but I don’t think I did any healing on his stomach.”

     “Don’t worry,” Bastila said, putting her hand on Lire’s shoulder. “We can buy some real cocoa and then you can make another cake—maybe an edible one.”

     Lire offered a wan smile before gasping as she remembered that she still had those gifts.  She darted from the galley and raced to the cargo hold, prying up that panel again before pulling out the small package.  Then she hurried to the cockpit, slowing to a walk just as she arrived.  The Hawk lurched slightly as it jumped to hyperspace, and Lire staggered accordingly.  But once she was stable, she composed herself, tucked the gift behind her back, and walked into the cockpit.

     “I’m sorry about the cake, Carth,” she said, grabbing his attention. “I’d wanted to surprise you.”

     “You did surprise me,” he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. “It’s not every day a guy gets his birthday celebrated because somebody hacked his profile.”

     He chuckled, causing Lire to grin.  After a moment, she pulled her gift out of hiding and faintly cleared her throat.  Carth glanced at her as she held the neatly wrapped box out to him.

     “I got you something,” was all she said. “Hope you like it.”

     “You didn’t have to get me anything,” Carth replied, looking the box over before grabbing the two ribbon ends and tugging, loosening the bow.

     “But I wanted to.”

     He smiled momentarily before tearing away the paper and opening the box.  When he saw the scope nestled inside, his eyes widened fractionally with surprise. 

     “Oh, Lire,” he sighed, lifting the scope from the box.  Lire grinned broadly as he looked it over with a loving eye. “Now you really shouldn’t have.”

     “Do you like it?”

     There was silence for a while as he sighed and turned the scope over in his hands.  For a minute, Lire feared the scope might bring back bad memories and that he wouldn’t want to keep it.

     “If you don’t want it,” she said carefully, “I’m sure Canderous can find a use for it.”

     “Oh, no, I want it.  It’s just that . . .”  He paused, sighing.  “I had a scope exactly like this when I first joined the fleet and my father bought me my very first blaster.”

     He patted the blaster strapped to his leg, causing Lire to realize that he’d had that weapon his entire life.  A slight smile quirked one corner of Carth’s mouth upward as he continued to study the scope.

     “Best scope I ever had, that one.  Never missed, always accurate.  Best thing I ever put in my blaster.”

     “So why isn’t it still there?” Lire asked, but she bit her lip when she saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

     “Uh, well . . .  I took it out when my son was born.  Went home on extended leave so I could be with him and my wife, and I left the scope there for him.  I wanted him to have it when he got old enough for his own blaster.  But, uh, it was lost when Telos was destroyed.  It didn’t seem fair at the time for me to have to lose my family and the scope my father had given me.  It’d been my grandfather’s, too; it was sort of an heirloom, passed down to each man in the family.”

     He continued to turn the scope over in his hand, gently stroking the tiny blaster part as if it were the dearest thing in the galaxy to him.  Lire leaned forward and touched his hand.

     “If it brings bad memories . . .”

     “No, it doesn’t,” Carth replied. “It brings good ones.  Thanks, Lire.  This, uh . . .  This means a lot.”

     Lire smiled faintly at him as he tucked the scope into the pocket of his jacket and left the cockpit, headed for the garage.  The next thing Lire heard was the whirring of a hydrospanner as Carth set the precious scope into his blaster.  Lire sighed and looked out the window at hyperspace rolling past, glad that she had brightened his day.

      “Happy birthday, Flyboy,” she murmured.

Fin.