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Who is Kleya Marki?

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We are all someone else now, than what we started as

‘The constant struggle, the continued fight against a superior enemy, changes us all. For the better of for the worse… Then again, whose to say which is better, in the end.’





“Why do you always have to argue with me?”


Luthen sounded rather frustrated at the moment.



With the default hostility towards each other in place once again. Him and Kleya seeming to have a forever argument present in their ‘discussions’ regarding the shop, the cause, their colleagues and even their friends. 



Basically anything they were about to talk about, were not without the two of them almost ending up in each other’s throats. The same old song being played over and over again.

 

“Because you are stubborn, set in your ways, and well, quite often wrong too.”

 

Kleya wasn’t totally wrong about that statement either.

As it was, Luthen often made decisions based on personal feelings. Something which Kleya had never understood. Not as long as she had known him. Ever since finding Luthen all those years ago.

 

Luthen, the one to yield, usually, these days, let out a small laugh.

“Well, guess you are right. Perhaps, this plan could use a set of second eyes on it after all.”


Luthen then handed over the datapad with the intel and his current orders. 



But knowing Kleya would take into consideration them as well as her own ones, and then improve upon the original plan. Well, she always did and Luthen could not help but appreciate the woman for it.

Kleya took the offered pad and started checking on it. Quickly glancing over I before nodding. And making some notes in there.

 

“I see what went wrong here.”

Never the one to mince words either, Kleya simply added.

“I will check this all through tonight and have the revised plan for you by tomorrow morning.”

She looked back up at Luthen who simply nodded his agreement to her.

 

Kleya then went to the back of the shop and picked up her coat and bag, ready to head out for the night, the day being over and night closing in.

 

“See you for dinner then?”

Luthen asked her, before she was off.

“Of course.”

Leaning towards Luthen and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“At eight?”

“At eight.”

Luthen repeated and with that note, Kleya was out the door, leaving Luthen to close up the shop for the day.

 

*

Kleya was checking the plan on the datapad, making minor adjustments on it.

It wasn’t as bad as she had originally thought, but there was always room for improvement. 



So, she did, make the changes and then threw the pad onto the desk, sighing in relief the work was simple enough, and not having to have spent the whole night on it.

She had an hour before she was due to Luthen’s flat for dinner.


It was an arrangement the two of them had agreed upon. 



Just to have some semblance of normalcy in the midst of the war the two of them were now part of. That of the Rebellion against the Empire. The silent war to be fought in the shadows, but soon enough, in the frontlines as well.


Kleya sighed heavily and closed her eyes for a moment. Her thoughts wandering off, back to the time, when she was a teenager, and in desperate search of someone.





Her father.



*




“But, it has to be you. All the information I have gathered for two years, led me to you.”


Kleya was adamant.



Defending her stance against the man, she was sure was her father. He had to be. 



All the evidence, the proof of it, was there. On the datapad she had just handed over to the man standing tall right in front of her.

It had been a long and tiresome search with setbacks. 



With her mother long since gone. And then having to pursue avenues Kleya did not even know had existed. But her foster parents had pushed her on. To do what they all knew was right. For Kleya to find her father.

 

The man stood there, for a long moment in perfect silence.



First having stared Kleya over. And now, glaring at the datapad. 



The picture there from years ago, was form a young man, but Kleya knew it was him. Even if he was older now, there was no mistaken the familiarity. Nor from her own features to that of this, person she wanted to call, father.

 

“The evidence is right there.”

Kleya stated again, assuring both herself and the stranger she was not on a hoax hunt, but in earnest looking for her parent. Her father.


The man kept on glaring at the pad and then, after reading several documents there, he finally looked back and right at Kleya.

It was a rather awkward moment.

Neither of them finding this easy.



But, they were blood after all. And even if this, supposed father of hers did not want her, she still had to know and at least get the acknowledgement of the same.

Because there was so much Kleya still did not understand.

Some of the stranger things she had experienced. The things she could do, without much effort… Something, which her now departed mother had told her, was a gift from her father.

Her mother having told Kleya, that she and her father had only known each other for a brief moment. The love shared having resulted to Kleya being born.

As the duty Kleya’s father was bestowed on, always came first.


And so, here she was, face to face, finally, with that man, Kleya knew, nay, felt was her father.

 

“I, I know you know this all to be true.”


The man finally spoke, and paused for a moment, clearing his thoughts.

“ As do I.”

Sighing heavily he added.

“And I am willing to accept the responsibility. Of becoming, your father.”


A small smile emerged onto Kleya’s face just then. Stepping the short distance towards each other, the two of them embracing each other for the first time.

Father and daughter, united.

 

*


“Kleya?”

Luthen called out, as he heard the door open and close.

“Yes, it’s me.”


Kleya joined Luthen in the kitchen area, the table already set for dinner.

Kleya walked the short distance towards Luthen, placing a kiss on his cheek.

Then taking her usual seat at the table as did Luthen.


“So, tell me, my dear daughter, how was your day?”


Luthen asked of Kleya with a soft smile emerging onto his face.

After all, during dinner, in their homes, the father and daughter had agreed to leave the war and everything else, outside.