We had no time to waste. Baras was now on the Dark Council, which meant failure was no longer an option. I refused to be the reason he looked bad even if it was just for my pride.

"You'll approach from the east," I ordered the group in front of me. "And you lot, you'll go in from the south. I'll join the southern team, Jaesa will take the eastern team."

"Unfriendlies?" someone asked.

"Expect a fair amount of resistance. Good luck."

The group spread apart to their various teams, prepping their ammunition and armor for the coming fight.

"Master," Jaesa interjected from beside me, her eyes instead of on the chart further down the embankment to the mine below. "This mine doesn't seem as well defended as the others."

"Spooks have said this area's all clear," I announced loudly, trying to brace the young men and women in front of me whose faces all looked weary and pale.

"Well, I believe the Captain is wrong," she told me louder.

Rolling my eyes, I pulled her away from the group, and she looked more serious than she usually did. If anything, she almost seemed shaken.

"What is it?" I asked her.

"Something is wrong, Zaya," she told me in whisper. "I sense it."

"We'll just have to figure it out once the battle is over, Jaesa."

"I'm not sure this is a battle that can be won. I believe we should retreat, find higher ground to assess the situation more accurately."

"We don't have time for that. Besides, Pierce is back - it'll be fine."

"This isn't about Pierce's ability to protect you, or you him. This is something else. Something is wrong."

Before I could answer, Pierce jogged up, hoisting his rifle further up in his arms.

"M'lord, bomb sweeps are done. No detonators around. One less thing to worry about."

He seemed to realize we were whispering.

"Sorry, was I interrupting?"

"Not at all," I told him, offering him a gentle smile. "We were just discussing the battle plan, which is going as planned."

"Plan's solid, m'lord. Who has doubts?"

"That would be me," Jaesa voiced.

She looked back at me.

"Zaya, you know this is risky," she whispered. "You feel it!"

"Baras will have my head if I don't get these mining facilities under control, and I want to get off this stinking planet!"

"Baras will kill you if we keep running these needlessly risky missions! Something is wrong here!"

"Kill you?" Pierce asked, stepping into the conversation.

Both of us shushed him and he stepped even closer, leaning in to listen.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Master, this isn't the way to earn Baras' favor."

"Favor – I don't want his favor!"

"Yes, you do, Za'wil, you are afraid of him."

Pierce stiffened, and I shook my head, turning away. Jaesa grabbed my arm.

"It's okay to be afraid of a Sith like Baras," Jaesa continued on with more urgency. "He captured and tortured you. You'll never get that piece of you he took back. I know."

I glanced at Pierce, whose gaze never wavered.

He never, ever wavered.

"What do you think we should do?" I asked him.

"Iron's hot, ma'am," he told me, glancing at Jaesa. "I respect your Jedi feelings, but I don't see what you see."

"And that's the point. We need to make sure this is a good idea. I don't like this!"

"Which is why I have you to watch my back!" I joked, grabbing her by the shoulders to shake her a little. "It'll be fine! Plus, I've been itching to get back out there with my favorite commando."

He flashed me another nervous smile - all nerves since we'd reunited three days ago, but I was confident that wouldn't impact his trigger finger.

A dark cloud of rage surrounded me as I breathed there, staring up at Draagh's stupid face, waving the detonator in front of me like it was a toy I wanted. Sounds began to fade out as he continued to speak, and I finally let out a cry like a vicious animal, slashing my lightsaber across the console once, twice, three times. I grunted with the effort, but Draagh's big, fat, stupid smug, arrogant leer finally flickered out. I sheathed my lightsaber then, just breathing, staring beyond at something I couldn't see.

My ears rang.

This was happening.

I knew better than anyone what happened to people who fell out of Baras' favor. We had to leave. Now. I opened my mouth to say as much when a loud boom shook the pipe. A thick crack shot through the air like a burst of lightning as the floor shifted under me, heaving me forwards like I was thrown. I landed on my palms and fingers hard enough to snap bone, feeling the skin underneath bruise and tear with the speed at which I fell.

The noise came first – rocks and debris crashed down all around us. I rolled onto my back, ignoring the pain in my hands, and forced them upwards to shield my fall. I called upon the ebb and flow the way Jaesa had shown me to keep the rocks at bay, but even with the Force, I felt all around me the sheer, massive weight of the mine collapsing on top of us.

Dirt and sand pummeled my face as I drew upon my own rage to fuel this effort, which caused me to sputter and spit, my eyes watering. The barrier jolted downwards.

But remained firm.

My arms began to shake.

All in all, this was an exhausting use of the Force that required much focus, much presence of mind, which I'd never been talented with. This required a steady stream of giving, a redirection of the currents the Forced used, my body the dam.

I was used to a choppy give and take, but I lacked the endurance that I knew most Jedi had to utilize the Force in such a prolonged way.

But I had to save Pierce. I didn't hear him, not even to grunt in pain.

My heart began to thump. He'd been killed. My arms shook harder, my breathing coming between choppy, shallow sputtering.

I lost him.

I wasn't fast enough. The rocks had crushed him.

"Pierce?" I cried out, my voice ragged.

No answer.

He was dead. Baras had killed him.

"Rogan!"

"Here!"

"Come over to me!"

My arms really shook now, and I grunted, trying to will the rocks to part like a wall of water being split by a chopping hand. I'd seen Jaesa do this many times, and I felt anew the significance of her power and strength, the mental fortitude the young woman had.

But I wasn't so lucky, or talented.

I was just good at killing things and being scary.

I heard Pierce grunting as he crawled closer. I felt his heat first, then a hand on my wrist.

A shooting, blinding pain coursed through me, and I cried out.

"Don't touch me!" I cried out, my voice plaintive. "I'm not sure how long I can hold it!"

I grunted with the effort, focusing all my concentration on keeping the mass up, knowing it was sinking down bit by bit.

"Go, Pierce!" I shouted, feeling my muscles waver with the duress, feeling the mass of rock, stone, and dirt above me amassing so much that I felt like a mountain had dropped on my shoulders.

"Not without you!"

"That's an order, Lieutenant!"

"Screw your orders!"

"Pierce, you have to go now or we're both gonna die!"

"I said no!"

Then, noise, pressure, and pain descended on me as a particularly sharp rock beat against my brain.

I felt my neck go limp.

Then I was awake.

Weight.

I was pinned. Couldn't move. Buried by sand and rock, buried alive. My lungs couldn't expand. My breaths came in short chops. I couldn't breathe. My mouth and face were covered by my forearms, which were pressed against it, allowing me the smallest, tightest pocket imaginable to breathe. Every time I did, I sucked in a piece of cloth on my shirt that nearly suffocated me, and I felt panic fade in.

Trapped.

Jaesa, I reached out.

I felt her immediately.

Help us.

She was coming. I felt it.

And then something else.

I felt something shift, rocks moving, the crumbling orchestra of settling debris shifting all around me. I felt a hand against one of my calves, and I tried to wiggle it.

It hurt.

Save my strength. Too hard to breathe. Eyes began to water. Throat filled up with dust. Sputtering. Couldn't breathe.

More rocks shifted. One leg was free. Still couldn't breathe.

Weight on my head, lessening. I tried to move my hands. Had some wiggle room now. More pressure relieved. A little more room. I pushed with all my might now, and I felt something give, sand spill into my eyes and face as they finally broke free.

I cried out in pain and surprise, continuing to spit and choke, but two more hands, rough but gentle, wiped at me, cleared them way. A dim yellowish light burst into my eyes, and I squinted, unable to see through the dark.

I tried to breathe in. Couldn't.

Through watery tears, I saw the outline of a reddish beard, smelled the musk of leather and weapon grease. I grunted in pain, trying to move the rocks off my midsection, but he returned my arms to my sides.

"Got this," he told me, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

The release of pressure was quick after that as he pushed and shoved, grunting as he yanked and pulled debris off my limp body to pull me away from the wreckage. Not until I realized I was free and clear did I notice that it was still difficult to breathe.

"Oh…" was all he said.

I was out of one prison and into another as his arms wrapped around my right arm to twist me. I cried out as a sharp pain erupted from my side. My fingers, of their own accord, made contact with the sharp rock that had penetrated my side, and that's when the pain and adrenaline flooded in. My eyes widened as I looked at it, and I grunted, breathing heavily, struggling to take in air.

I looked him over. He seemed uninjured.

"Okay?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he replied curtly, shifting me again.

"Stop!" I ordered, trying to sound firm.

"Like hell," he mumbled, yanking at me again.

I fought him, trying to yank my arm away, but he was much stronger, and in my state that pretty much evened the playing field. After all, I had a rock through my chest.

"Jaesa…" was all I said.

I heard him breathing.

"She's coming?" he asked, his tone higher pitched than I'd ever heard it.

It was the kind of tone that made me want to reach out and wrap my limbs around him to cling to him, to comfort him, even from my pain.

"Pierce…" I tried, but he ignored me.

"Okay," he was saying. "Okay, yeah. She's coming. We've just gotta sit tight. She's a good soldier. A good fighter. I'll just, uh…"

He seemed to look around, shifting some rocks to make a place to sit. He shifted under me, his touch gentle and tentative for the first time in my memory. Something was in his voice that I'd never heard before, something that made me feel like I was going to die.

"Better?" he croaked.

I grunted when he shifted me, but it was better this way than how I had been before. I tried to move, but the agony was unimaginable. I yelled, which took the little breath I had left from my lungs. I felt lines spill past the indents in my face above my cheeks, salty tears stinging the skin there that had been injured by rock and stone.

"I know, I know, I know," he whispered above me.

I grunted again as he moved me to rest on him. He shushed me with such gentleness and warmth that I felt like I was dreaming. This wasn't the Lieutenant I knew.

Suddenly, I felt a sting in my arm. My neck turned to look down at it. A needle. Something…

Ooh, something warm. Something numbing.

Without hesitating, I turned my head and placed a gentle kiss on his leg, breathing out.

"Thank you."

My horns bumped him, and I saw him wince. If I wasn't so tired, I would have blushed.

"Don't get me started, you big softy," he mumbled above me. "If they were any duller I'd be able to massage my sore muscles I used pulling you out of that rubble. They're soft as a wookie's backside."

"You…would know…"

His booming laugh, overly eager and panicked, burst out through the cave.

I snorted with laughter too, which hurt, but the tears this time were good, and the numbing agent he used was effective. The laugh faded, but the pain didn't. I grimaced next, closing my eyes.

I reached up to wipe the tears from my face, but he took my hand.

"Moving too much," he said.

He didn't let go.

A warm shudder passed through me that made me ache, but I squeezed, trying hard to quell the sounds that would come out of me because of the pain it would cause him.

"I'm here," he whispered above me, his other hand on my face, his thumb tracing small lines around my cheek, gently, as if absentmindedly.

I grimaced again.

He stiffened, untangling his fingers from mine, yanking his palm from my cheek, probably mistaking my grimace for some other kind of hesitation.

"Sorry…"

I reached up to correct him, but I winced down in pain, crying out.

"I know, Zee, I've got you. I've got you now."

We rested then, his eyes never leaving me. In the dim light, I saw the whites of his, and it made him look younger, smaller.

"You're gonna make it," he reminded us both. "Jaesa's coming."

I tried to smile at him.

He laughed. It sounded hysterical and full of rage.

"How can you be fucking smiling like that?"

He roared in frustration, throwing a rock that crashed against the far wall that shattered away any clumps of dirt stuck to it.

"Your master betrayed you! Tried to kill you!"

"I know," I told him.

I felt something strange in my mouth, something wet. I turned away from him and spat. Cold swept through me when I realized it was blood.

"Why aren't you more upset?"

"Well," I considered. "For starters...I'm run through by a boulder."

He laughed again, avoiding my gaze up from his lap like it burned, his breath heaving. I figured if he wouldn't look at me I might as well rest my eyes.

"What? No, no, don't you do that. That's how people die, m'lord. Trust me. Seen it plenty."

I felt his hands on my cheeks, covered in dirt, moving my head back and forth. His hands shook.

"Talk to me, Za'wil. Keep talking."

I opened my eyes, gaze half-lidded as I smiled up at him.

"You dug me out," I whispered to him.

I felt him wiggle under me.

"S'my job."

"Thank you…for doing that."

He didn't have an answer this time, and I turned my head to rest my cheek on his leg, my breathing becoming labored.

"Didn't do much of a job."

"Saved me."

"And you kept rocks off my ass."

"Now...we're even..."

He chuckled.

"Right..." he finally said. "You're a pain in my ass, Za'wil."

"Hey…" I managed, a dumb smile playing out on my face.

"Yeah, yeah, said your name. So what?"

But he looked around, not at me.

Could it be he was nervous?

No.

No way.

We'd settled that nearly three months ago. True to his word, he hadn't made a pass at me since he'd been back.

Just stressed, maybe.

"Like it," I told him.

"How's that?"

"Your accent…like your voice."

"That's a new one," he remarked. "Nobody likes the Colonies accent. Even people from the Colonies."

I smiled, eyes closed.

"Better...than mine."

"Haven't heard yours before."

"Iridonia," I told him. "Hide it."

"Smart."

"Your accent?"

"Nothing so exotic. I grew up in the slums. Nowhere, really."

"Can you…tell me about it?"

"Not much to tell," he dismissed, his usual line.

I nodded off, and he seemed to battle with himself before shaking me a little again. My eyes flitted open.

"Born on Ziost, but we moved around a lot when I was barely a man. Freighters. Had three brothers, me, and my mum. Dad was around some, but he mostly worked on surface, would send us money now'n again. I grew up in space."

"Missed him?"

"Yeah, sometimes. You get used to it."

"I know."

"Good man. Good family. We were good kids too until we weren't, then my mum put us out for bringing Imps to our door."

"Can't imagine..."

He nodded.

"My mum'd get so angry at me. I was the oldest, and I had dreams of being something. Going somewhere. Getting away. I got into fights. Beat people up. Probably a bit of a bully about it, if I'm honest."

"You?" I breathed. "No…"

"Laugh it up, m'lord."

"I would, but-"

"-boulder," he finished for me, breathing out again, "right."

I heard him swallow.

"She told me to look out for my brothers. Didn't do a good job."

He didn't speak for a long time.

"I'm sorry – I shouldn't be talking about this right now. You're the one who—"

My head fell again, and he patted my cheeks gently. I saw him swallow as my eyes lidded open.

"Lost two of my brothers in a military boarding party. Damn Republic came down on our ears, thinking we was smuggling military supplies past the blockade near Hutta. Arin tried to talk them down. He refused to move, they shot him."

I made an understanding noise but knew it best not to interrupt.

"Kage died in the fight after that. I was goofing off, making time with some girl."

I laughed in my chest, which hurt. I winced, and he sniffled above me.

"Genna," he said. "First girl I went all the way with. Twi'ilek. Blue skin. Tattoos on her-"

He cut himself off.

"Not that you need to know that part, sorry."

He was rambling.

"Nervous, LT?" I tried to joke, and he let out another laugh.

"You wish," he drawled back, but I wasn't fooled.

"How'd you get...into black ops?"

"Approached by an Imperial officer after that. Said I had skills. Said they could take care of my mum and my brother, my dad. So I said yes. Owe the Army everything. And I've been hurting those bastards ever since that took my brothers away."

I heard something in his voice, some tension, that I'd never heard before.

"I'm sorry…" I told him.

"Don't be. Wouldn't have met you, been here, done what I've done, if it hadn't gone down like that."

"Still. Hard...to lose...family."

"It is."

I let out a pained breath. My head nodded.

"What do...you want to do? After?"

He thought hard.

"I guess I never really thought about it," Pierce admitted, his voice quiet. "Not really the settling down type. Always figured I'd die on the field. You?"

"Same," I said back.

And for the briefest moment, we connected in the Force, his walls and my walls collapsing in on each other, which made him appear all the more radiant to me.

Maybe it was the Force.

Or the drugs.

I gestured to the rock in my chest.

"Maybe...this boulder...will do the trick."

He laughed again, but said,

"S'not funny, Za'wil."

"Right..." I said. "Just...going into shock. You know...how it is."

He seemed to want to keep me talking.

"No younglings for you and your husband?"

I balked through the pain, but I sensed no ill-will in his question. A rippling, but nothing I thought he'd act on.

The man was the most self-disciplined I'd ever met.

"I'm not dumb, Za'wil," he continued goodnaturedly, "and you're not as discreet as you think you are."

I blushed. I thought. Hard to tell with the drugs.

"Don't tell me I've gotta beat Quinn up for this, m'lord. Never even talked about younglings?"

I smiled distantly.

"You should just hear him...talk about it. I'm sure he'd love...to have younglings."

"You don't?" he asked with a frown.

I clenched. It hurt.

"Halflings..." I tried. "In the Empire..."

He made an "ahh" kind of sound.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I forgot."

"I know," I told him, dumb smile still on my face. "Thanks."

There was a pause.

"I wish I could though," I admitted. "Sometimes."

"What? Younglings?"

"Yeah. If there wasn't some danger...of having them...taken away."

"Who would do that?" he asked, seemingly genuinely baffled. "From you of all people?"

"Sith," I breathed out. Breathed in. "Obviously."

"You're a Sith."

"Who...would protect them...when I'm not there?"

"Thought it was an honor to be chosen."

"That...is...what they say."

"I was always jealous of them starting their fight so young."

"You sound like...Quinn."

"Now you're just getting nasty."

"Younglings...taken...die...the moment they leave their parents," I whispered. "I...died. No choice. Like Arin...and Kage." For some reason, this was important to tell him, even through the pain. "Not...an honor, Rogan. Not..."

He gripped my hand.

"Don't...envy them. Don't...envy...me. You...had a choice. I...never...did."

This seemed to sadden him.

"If you could though," he asked. "If you could grow old and do what you wanted, be free, what would you do?"

"If the war ended?"

"Sure."

"I've never thought about it. Hard to get through the day."

"But if you could choose it? Really go anywhere?"

He seemed to really want an answer.

"Fake...my death...move away. Leave forever."

Maybe subconsciously, his grip on my hand tightened.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm tired," I breathed. "I'd go...somewhere...far, far away. To rest. Make babies. Hide."

He seemed to swallow again.

"I wouldn't want to move on," he told me. "Like serving with you. Been an honor."

"Honor's...mine...Lieutenant..."

Breathing was really hard now.

"I'd miss you if you went," his voice croaked, squeezing my hand as my fingers began to grow limp. "Remember that, alright?"

"I'd...miss you too," I replied.

"No. You wouldn't."

I felt too sluggish to respond, my head falling limp.

"But thanks all the same..."

The last thing I felt was his palms on my cheeks, stroking the tears and grime away with his thumb.

I fired in the cockpit at the holocom, glad to be alone at least for the moment.

"You said you'd stay away!" I roared at Draagh, unable to breathe in.

"Oh please," he told me, shrugging. "I understand needing to scratch the itch, but come on, Captain. It's getting ridiculous now. Do it or get out of the way. We don't have time for your lollygagging."

I terminated the call, retreated to her room, trashed it.

Then cleaned it back up, collapsing into her sheets that smelled like her.

She was so wounded this time. She'd be in incredible pain for weeks.

I had to do it.

I no longer had a choice.

It would be done.

And I'd be dead.

A dull beeping thudded in my ears. It hurt to breathe or move. I tried to tense my muscles, but it hurt too much too.

I heard muted voices outside of my body, feverish, low, a man's and a woman's. Two women.

"What did you do with him?" a man's voice whispered.

"I took him where you could not get to him. Why don't you sit with us now? Your presence soothes her."

He repeated the last words.

"I don't need to soothe her! I want to hurt him!"

"Try to calm yourself. Be here with her. It will help you and her."

"This is no time for meditation, you stupid fucking idiot! That rat out there killed her! He killed her and she might never wake up again!"

"That is how it seems, yes."

"Do you even care? Does it even matter?"

"We have to find out the truth first."

"The truth? He poisoned her! Shot at her! I'm gonna make him pay! I have to make him pay! Tell me where he is!"

"Don't tell him, Jaesa!"

A scuffle, and I felt the Force in the air dampen the room.

"Pierce! Put hands on her again, and I won't hesitate to take yours!"

"I guess I deserved that," the squeaky voice said tearfully.

"Don't make me ask you again. Take a seat, Lieutenant, or get out of the room."

"She might not ever wake up!" the man's voice roared, his voice breaking. "Look at her! Look at - look what's he done!"

There was another rush and then I felt it, the Force. Agony and anguish such as I'd never felt from a normally raging waterfall, spilling over me, the strength of it eroding the muck from the rocks in my ocean.

There was a lot of breathing. The man seemed to be struggling.

"He is her husband," the calm female voice told the man who struggled. "In the end, she gets to decide who lives and dies."

"I know..." he finally let out, like it hurt to even breathe out the words. "I know that. Keep telling me that."

The strong voice complied.

"He is her husband, and he has conspired against her. His fate is hers to command. If you cannot restrain yourself now, make yourself scarce."

The man continued to breathe. There were tears in it every time he exhaled.

"We will do as we have always done," the strong voice replied, unwavering. "Pierce, you will remain here with Zaya. Vette will go to Malavai to see if he's alright. I will go back to the ship and ensure we haven't been followed."

I tried to move again. It hurt, but I tried.

I didn't want to move.

I didn't want to do anything anymore. Everything hurt, and it didn't matter why.

The effort was exhausting. I didn't try again.

"She's moving," the smaller woman's voice cried out. "Get the doctor!"

One small hand grabbed what I realized was my hand, two giant hands taking my other.

"You awake, love?"

I wasn't, not really.

More beeping this time, but the two rough hands remained.

I felt other things more strongly now. My muscles. My skin, which burned all over. My bones, which ached. My throat, which stung.

I was also aware of another hand and with it, a presence I somehow knew but doubted.

I must have been dead.

I tried to speak.

I failed.

Tried again, harder.

"Mom?" I croaked out.

"Hush, Brave One," she shushed in our tongue.

The rough hands squeezed.

"Am I dead?" I croaked again, also in our tongue.

"No, you're alive."

I tried to open my eyes. The lights were bright. I squinted.

I saw her skin, the light greenish tan I'd missed so much. I'd always been so angry that my skin had been redder than hers. Her face was older, her cheeks had become pronounced, dark smudges under her eyes. Her hands were thin, but she was here. I looked like her. I used to think she was incredibly beautiful, it was no wonder she'd caught the notice of some Sith, and it struck me how much I just looked like her.

"Mom..." I whispered, tears filling and spilling down my cheeks.

It stung.

"Brave girl..." she whispered, squeezing my hand.

I closed my eyes, went to sleep.