Thank you, everyone, for reading along and following Fynta's story. You have no idea how much I've appreciated the kudos, comments, and messages over the last year of writing this story. I do plan to write the next bit, but I am going to take a little bit of a break from this massive undertaking and work on a couple of smaller projects first. I've got a lot of unfinished things that I'd like to tidy up. But, be on the lookout for the next installment titled: Blood in the Breeze.

Carry On

Odessen
Medical Ward

There were few sounds that Fynta hated more than the drone of medical equipment. Judging by the pain radiating through her body, she assumed those infuriating beeps were for her. "I think she's coming around." The voice was almost familiar, like something out of a dream. Fynta wished it would shut up so that she could go back to sleep.

"Can you get me closer without hurting yourself?" The severe, Imperial accent jarred Fynta's memory.

Fynta's eyes snapped open when the fog of medication cleared enough to recognize voices that made her heart leap. Balic Cormac grinned from the bed to Fynta's left. "Hey, bunkmate, about time you woke up." Fynta's throat tightened. In his hand, stood Elara Dorne in muted blues.

Slowly, Cormac swung long legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring his wife's tittering about not straining himself. He set the holo on the table by Fynta's head and rolled a doctor's stool over to sit next to her. She cringed at how slow the man's movements were.

"You had us worried," Cormac continued, grunting when he settled into a comfortable position. Tears gleamed in his large, dark eyes. "When they rolled your bed next to mine, I thought we'd lost you again."

When Fynta didn't speak, worry creased Cormac's brow. "You do remember me, right?"

The fear in Cormac's voice snapped Fynta out of her stupor. "Mir'sheb," she croaked, lifting her arms to embrace him. One of the fluid lines snagged on the bed, and Elara fussed at Fynta from the bedside table. But, She didn't care.

Cormac gently pushed Fynta's arms down and took one of her hands into both of his. She marveled at the irony of their reversed positions until he kissed her knuckles. Fynta watched Balic's face as he pressed her hand to his heart, fingers tight while tears streamed down his cheeks. "I missed you, boss. You have no idea how much."

Fynta chewed the inside of her lip to avoid surrendering to the same emotions. Knowing that Cormac was alive and well made her eyes burn with thankful tears. When she'd left, they weren't sure if he'd ever regain consciousness. Now, he was holding her hand and telling her to get better soon like he hadn't just been near death's door.

Elara waited in prim silence, ever the patient friend. "When can you join us?" Fynta hadn't intended to ask the other woman that question, but she desperately wanted her family back together.

Wiping at her eyes, Elara cleared her throat. "It's more complicated with the children, but I have something in the works. I can't discuss it over an open line." Fynta nodded. No matter how much she wanted to hurry it along, Fynta knew that she shouldn't press.

"I told you." Fynta's head snapped towards the open door to find Jorgan with a cup of caf. "The minute I leave, she wakes up. Damn woman." His snarled baritone made Fynta grin.

Aric removed a rumpled pillow and blanket from the chair on the opposite side of Fynta's bed, then placed his cup on the table. He took her free hand. "How do you feel?"

"Like a ship exploded around me. Again." Fynta tried to reposition herself, then winced as pain shot up her spine. With a sudden panic, Fynta looked to her left leg still hidden beneath the thin blanket. She couldn't make her hands move to check.

"Still there," Aric assured, patting the prosthetic gently. "Arcann banged you up, but you still have all of your parts intact. It's going to take a couple of weeks of kolto dips to get over this one. The doctor wants to know how you tore so many ligaments in your forearm without cutting it off. Told him I'd ask." One bony brow lifted in expectation. Fynta decided a silent shrug was safer than admitting to grabbing a maniac's lightsaber.

Though not thrilled about the prospect of more time in the medcenter, Fynta couldn't bring herself to ruin the moment of peace by complaining. "Verin said to call him when you wake up, and that he's tired of saying that," Jorgan continued with a wry smirk. "Also, Shillet wants to talk to you as soon as you feel up to it."

"I'll inform the children when they return home," Elara interjected from the side table. "I've begun picking Shillet up from school in the afternoons so that she can sleep here."

Aric's jaw tightened at what Elara left unsaid. His daughter's situation had destabilized, and there was nothing he could do about it from across the galaxy. "Thank you," Aric replied, voice deepened by inner turmoil. "Please have her call as soon as she gets in."

Fynta squeezed Aric's hand to let him know that he didn't have to go through this alone. "I will, sir," Elara answered with a stiff nod. "Unfortunately, I must go, I've spent too long on the line as it is." Her attention switched to Cormac, and Fynta felt the need to look away and give them as much privacy as possible. "I love you, Balic. Do as your doctor says, and I'll contact you as soon as I can."

"Love you, too, doll." Fynta winced at the sadness in Cormac's smile. "I'll be a model patient. Tell my boy that I'll see him soon."

With one last nod, Elara cut the signal. Fynta looked between the men at her bedside, each struggling with the separation from a child and family, but here for her. "We'll get her out, Cormac," Fynta decided. "I'll get Theron on it immediately." Fynta didn't understand everything that kept Elara in the Republic, but she knew it had to do with technology. Surely with all of the brilliant scientists on the base, they could figure something out.

"Thanks, boss." Cormac eased himself upright and yawned. "I look forward to getting off these meds. Can't remember the last time I slept so much." Aric rose to help Cormac back into his bed. Fynta grinned at how the Cathar fussed with blanket placement after awkwardly guiding Cormac's bulk onto the mattress. He had a big heart hidden beneath all that surliness.

A knock drew Fynta's attention to where Lana and Theron peered into the room. "How are you feeling?" Lana's gaze settled on Jorgan's back while he struggled to dislodge a section of blanket that had become trapped beneath Cormac. With a flick of her wrist, the material righted itself. Aric snorted a thanks before scooting around the now crowded space to reclaim his chair as Cormac laughed.

Theron skulked in, leaning against the far wall while Lana perched at the end of Fynta's bed. "We won't stay long, but the people of the alliance have been on edge since news reached them of your condition. It would be nice to put their minds at ease."

"I'll be out first thing tomorrow." Fynta hadn't technically seen a doctor while conscious, but she was leaving regardless. Only Cormac's company would keep her here overnight. They had a lot to catch up on. "Have we found Arcann yet?"

"Not yet," Theron answered from behind his datapad. "Zolah and I are scouring every communication frequency. He can't hide forever."

Lana's shoulders sagged for a moment. "It appears Senya is more resourceful than expected. And, SCORPIO's proven far more cunning than I imagined." Fynta saw a hint of the self-deprecating woman that Lana hid so well before her spine stiffened. "But, Theron is correct. We will find them."

Jorgan leaned forward and Fynta slid her hand closer to his, the knot in her chest lessening when his fingers wrapped around hers. "That cunning will be useless when she's dead." They'd all been pawns in a droid's game, and Fynta wouldn't rest until she decommissioned SCORPIO for her part in Arcann's escape. She should pool the Alliance's resources into a singular search, but Theron had his own bones to pick. He'd just ignore Fynta's order and perform the searches on his own time. Then, Zolah and Vector would complain.

At a warning scowl from Aric, Lana patted Fynta's shin. "There will be time for vengeance later. For now, enjoy your achievements and rest." Theron snorted, and Fynta couldn't stop the reflex that pushed her tongue between still dry lips in a juvenile response.

Ignoring Theron and Fynta alike, Lana continued. "Your victory brought hope to the galaxy. The Battle of Odessen has become a rallying cry for all who oppose the Eternal Empire."

"It has?" Fynta looked at Aric. "Damn, how long was I out?"

Theron chuckled. "Word spreads fast. And get this, Republic and Imperial forces are pouring into our cause. Not all sanctioned, of course, but it's a start." Fynta's brows shot up until Theron passed his datapad to her. She couldn't deny the numbers.

"Can we accommodate this influx?" Though it had been a while since Fynta had checked in with the engineers, she knew space was tight.

"Let us worry about that," Lana answered as she stood. "We'll give you time with your family now." She nudged Theron with her foot, and he held out a hand for the datapad. Fynta returned the device while Lana continued. "If SCORPIO—or anyone else—tries to attack Odessen again, we will be ready."

"Good." A heavy weight tugged at Fynta's mind, making her eyes heavy. She blinked, then shook her head. "Either these meds are kicking in, or my advisors just doubled."

A knowing smile graced Lana's face as she pushed Theron towards the door. "Rest well, Commander."

Aric waited until they were gone, then nodded in Cormac's direction. His head had dropped onto his chest, which rose and fell in a steady rhythm. "He couldn't hold on anymore." Leaning forward, Aric ran his fingers through her hair. "You should sleep, too."

"Fine," Fynta conceded, sighing at the soothing chills his touch raised on her skin. "You should head back to the room for a proper bed."

"I'll go home after you fall asleep." Fynta knew Aric was lying, but she was too exhausted to argue. Tomorrow, she'd be strong enough to force him to take care of himself. For the moment, she was content to drift into sleep knowing that her people were safe.

Coruscant
Military Housing District

"You didn't tell him," Aleksei accused before Elara could set aside her holo. He stood in the doorway of his room, arms crossed with a peeved expression on his face.

Elara shook her head. "It wasn't the right time." In truth, she couldn't bring herself to destroy the only serene moment her friends had experienced in weeks.

Aric had let slip about Vik during their conversation the night before. He didn't want Fynta to bear the burden alone, and needed someone to vent to. Elara and Aric had become confidants while he struggled to raise a squad of youths as well as being a father to Shillet. He confided in her, and Elara had never broken his trust. Until now.

Looking down at her datapad, anger tore through Elara at the words that stared back. It was a missive she shouldn't have, a simple clerical mistake that sent the revocation of Aric's parental privileges to her. The Republic had declared him a traitor, and thus, an unfit parent. In truth, Elara was surprised it had taken them so long. They'd given him one standard month to return Shillet and all of her things to be rehomed.

"Elara," Aleksei chastised, pulling her from the repercussions of going AWOL and back to her apartment. "The man has a right to know, to prepare for losing his daughter."

"I need time to think," Elara answered with a sharp jerk of her head. Aric couldn't lose Shillet just when he'd found Fynta. Not while he was still stressed about his wife's mental health. "There has to be a way around this."

Aleksei pinned Elara with stern, grey eyes that matched her own. "You know the way out of this, for all of you." When she didn't respond, Aleksei threw his hands up. "Damn it, woman. Stop being so noble and do what's best for you and those kids."

"What about you?" Elara snapped. Even if she could get to Odessen without leading the Republic military there, how could she leave Aleksei behind after all they'd been through together.

Aleksei pushed off the door frame with a laugh. "I'm SIS, one of Balkar's best, they can't touch me." Elara was both touched, and annoyed by her brother's insistence that she see reason. He stopped in front of her, hands resting on her shoulders. "Just tell me what you need, and I'll make it happen. It's the least I can do for getting me out of that bind with the Hutts."

"Nonsense," Elara answered with a wave of her hand. "That was years ago. But, I might have an idea of how to achieve all of our goals."

Aleksei dropped his hands with an exasperated huff and settled on a stool opposite the counter. "Alright," he said, arms folded over his chest again. "Impress me with your genius."

Elara smiled despite her brother's acerbic tone. If everything went to plan, she would see Balic soon, their son could reconnect with his father, and Shillet would finally be home. Her heart fluttered at the thought. Elara would be able to hug her closest friend for the first time in six, long years.

Odessen
Living Quarters

Theron slipped into a dark apartment, hoping that no one was awake. He'd promised to be home hours ago, but the search for Arcann had engrossed him to the point of losing time. He knew that it wasn't healthy, but it bothered him how easily Senya had fallen off their radar.

Kicking off his boots, Theron tiptoed across the sitting room, hissing when the light flipped on. "Couldn't kriffing warn me?" he growled through the pain serrating his eyes and skull.

When Theron's vision cleared, it showed a shirtless Vector wearing his black, silk pajama bottoms. His bare arms, crossed over a distractingly nice chest, flexed with a deep inhale. "We've been waiting for you."

Now that Theron could see properly, he noticed Zolah sitting on the sofa next to the irritated joiner. "Sorry," he conceded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Lost track of time." Being greeted by one lover was a treat, both meant trouble.

"Your obsession with Arcann is unhealthy," Zolah commented, and Theron gave her a droll stare. She was the last person to lecture him on the art of overworking. Before he could argue, Zolah patted the sofa. "Sit, Vector and I would like a word and it can't wait any longer."

Theron's face tingled with dread. He'd expected this conversation for years, but had grown complacent in the relationship with people whom he shouldn't care so much about. Maybe because he and Zolah hadn't spoken much over the last few days, she'd decided that his theatrics were too much to deal with. Theron knew that he had a temper, that for all his flexibility, he wasn't great about change. Still, to see Vector siding with Zolah stung. He'd thought their relationship had moved pass needing her as glue.

"What's going on?" Theron asked, voice deceptively calm as he took a seat across from his lovers. Their expressions were unreadable, red and black eyes focused on him with matching scowls. Theron swallowed and balanced on the edge of his chair, body poised to escape should things go the way he feared.

"This will not do." Vector stood and closed the space between them, taking Theron by the hand and guiding him over to the couch. With gentle pressure that still managed to convey authority, Vector pushed Theron onto the cushion next to Zolah, then took up position on his other side.

Zolah's hand settled on Theron's knee, and she smiled. "Always assuming the worst, even after all we've shared." Theron didn't answer, but gripped the datapad in his lap like a life preserver.

"Theron," Vector began, pulling the spy's attention around. "Once the war is over, where will you go?"

Theron's mouth fell open, and he snapped it shut before he made a bigger fool of himself. He supposed it was nice that they wanted to ensure he had a plan for after. "I, uh, hadn't really thought about it." That was a lie. He'd fretted over the end of the war for unending hours, knowing that he couldn't join the Empire, but not stupid enough to invite his lovers over to the Republic.

"Of course you haven't," Zolah said with a tight smile. The amusement dancing in her all-red eyes mocked Theron, making him bristle. "Well, Vector and I have, and we've reached a decision."

"I won't defect," Theron spat before he could stop himself. Cringing internally, he cleared his throat. "If that's what you mean, of course."

Vector's hand slid over Theron's other thigh. He expected to feel trapped, but the warmth of their bodies pressed against his was soothing. "We do not intend to ask you to."

"Indeed." Zolah picked up the train of thought. Theron hated when they did that, like being the only person excluded from a conversation that he felt he should understand. "Vector and I have no intention of returning to our old lives. We plan to remain in wild space, operating as free agents."

Theron's brows shot up. He'd always viewed the two Imperials as die-hard patriots. They'd certainly never missed an opportunity to debate the differences between the two empires who had ruled the galaxy for so long. "What are you saying?"

"That if you are willing," Vector continued with a gentle squeeze. "We would like you to join us. Permanently."

Theron's mind whirled with emotions and arguments that he couldn't process. Vector and Zolah weren't just turning their backs on the Empire, they were giving it all up, for him. He'd just been proposed to, in a sense. They wanted him to commit, to spent the rest of his life attached to them. Worrying, laughing, loving.

Fuck.

"I, uh—" Theron swallowed, feeling panic rise.

"You don't have to decide now," Zolah answered before Theron cold bolt. "We just wanted you to know our plans, and where we would like this," she gestured to the three of them, "to go in the future."

Theron nodded. There was no reason why he should fear the prospect of operating outside a main law source, he'd been doing that for years. Why did the thought of staying with Vector and Zolah terrify him? He'd spent the last six years as their lover, comfortable with sharing his personal space, body, and free time. But now they wanted to make it official. A verbal commitment to tie himself to another person; two other people.

When Theron opened his mouth to respond, Zolah silenced him with a kiss. "Not yet," she breathed against his lips. "Don't choose until you're absolutely certain. Until then, we will carry on like always."

Again, Theron nodded. He could compartmentalize this conversation to revisit at another time. Closer to the end of the war. After all, the way things were going, they might not ever see that day. Maybe, he wouldn't have to make a choice at all. Theron could live with that.

Odessen
Commander's Quarters

Jorgan palmed open the door, then stepped back to let Fynta enter first. "I'm fine," she repeated when he touched her elbow. Aric pulled held his hands up with an innocent smile. Fynta still looked unstable, and he couldn't help but wince at the memory how her body had collapsed against her seat in the fighter. Jorgan had taken over, contorting to feel for a pulse while attempting to dock with the Gravestone. Even after assuring himself that Fynta was alive, he spent the next seventy-two hours wondering who would wake in the medbay; his wife, or the other woman.

Fynta rolled her eyes and continued into the main room. "Stop worrying, or you'll put yourself into an early grave." She eased onto the sofa, letting out a long breath once her muscles relaxed. "I'm glad you decided to come with me," Fynta continued, gaze fixed on the sling that had taken all manner of creative threats to convince her to wear. "I couldn't have done any of this without you."

Jorgan hiked Fynta's bag higher on his shoulder. Even now, the guilt of considering staying behind tore at him. "You'd have managed," he answered with a tight smile. Aric didn't want to think about all the ways he could have lost her aboard that ship. It was easier to believe that his wife was indestructible. That if he failed, she'd find a way to survive.

Jorgan's comment dragged a huff of laughter from Fynta. "Why don't you grab a datapad and let's watch something. One where the bad guy gets what he deserves in the end."

"Let me put this away." Jorgan plucked at the ruck straps digging into his shoulder. "Then I'll be back. You hungry?" Fynta shook her head. He paused to pass an appraising eye over his wife. Arcann had done a number on Fynta for her to turn down food. "We'll find him, okay?"

Jorgan climbed the stairs to their room without waiting for a response. While he unpacked from their medcenter stay, Jorgan considered whether he wanted to anymore. Maybe Arcann was better off out there, alone and broken. Aric and Fynta could slip away and retire like they'd planned. With a humorless snort, Jorgan tossed the dirty clothes into the bin. Fynta wouldn't rest until Arcann was dealt with. Like Rakton, he threatened everything she cared about. It was a matter of honor: skira.

Having deposited his burden, Jorgan vowed to work on laundry the next day. For the moment, he needed to be with his wife and bask in the knowledge that they'd survived another battle and dealt a crippling blow to the enemy. As Jorgan started back for the sitting room, his comm chirped. The I.D. was Coruscant, and Jorgan smiled as he activated the call. "Hey, kiddo, I was about to call you."

"Well?" Shillet asked, thin arms folded defiantly over her chest. "Where is she?"

"Shil'ika," Fynta called from the sofa, pulling a blanket from the back to cover her injured arm. "Were you worried about me?"

The young Nautolan dropped her arms, head shaking with a sharp snap that wiggled her head tresses. Jorgan spun the holo around to show Fynta. "Of course not." Her eyes drifted in his direction. "He was."

Fynta's face split into a wide grin as she kicked her now bare feet onto the table and held a hand out for the holo. Jorgan saw it for the ruse it was. Fynta wanted Shillet to know that she was relaxed, so clearly not in pain. Warmth spread through Jorgan as he watched his wife and daughter chat. Whatever Fynta had said to Shillet on Darvannis had gained the girl's trust. While Fynta still had moments of panic about being a mother, she'd settled into being a friend with ease.

Shillet laughed while Fynta recalled a story from Havoc's old days. Jorgan slid onto the sofa next to his wife, smiling at the strange sense of family that permeated the room. Eventually, Shillet yawned and looked at the chrono. "I'm staying with Elara for the weekend, and she'll fuss if I don't get to bed."

"She used to fuss at me too," Fynta chuckled. "Does her accept still get thicker the angrier she gets?"

"I could barely understand what she was saying the other night when she and Aleksei got into it," Shillet sniggered. "His isn't any better, you know."

A heavy silence followed, and Shillet sighed. "When can I see you again, dad?"

Jorgan's chest squeezed so tight that he had to swallow the first few attempts to answer. "Soon, I hope." He was aware of Fynta's gaze on him, reading what he tried to keep hidden.

Aric knew that it would be weeks, maybe months before they were in a position to bring Shillet to Odessen. Or, wherever he and Fynta went after the war with Zakuul was finished. Plastering on a reassuring smile, Jorgan did what he swore never to do. He lied. "Things might calm down in the next few weeks, then we can find a way to get you." He hated that empty promise as soon as the words left his lips. Shillet's dark eyes brightened with excitement, sharp teeth visible through green lips that pulled into a wide smile.

"I'll put my best people on the job," Fynta broke in. Jorgan cast her a side glance, a plea not to make this worse. Shillet would hate him once she realized that he'd broken his word. Then again, Fynta might not realize how impossible that task was.

"Thanks." Shillet beamed between them, then reached for the disconnect. "Good night."

Jorgan finally released the air trapped in his lungs in a low growl. "That gets harder the older she gets." He rubbed a hand over his head, stopping only when Fynta touched his arm. "She'll never trust me again."

"I meant what I said," Fynta added in a soft voice as she pushed his hand down. "I'll find a way to get us there."

Jorgan forced a smile and reminded himself that if anyone could defy Republic blockades and infiltrate a military school, it would be the woman by his side. Kissing her temple, Jorgan looked around their bleak quarters and realized this place had become as important to him as that apartment on Nar Shaddaa. It was home, but it wouldn't feel complete without everyone. Sighing, he nodded. "I trust you."

They settled into silence, neither reaching for the datapad that Jorgan had brought for watching holovids. When Fynta fidgeted by his side, Aric pulled back to look down at her. "What's wrong?"

"I hate when you do that," Fynta groused. Jorgan offered his best impression of her grin, and Fynta's eyes rolled again. She blew air through her lips and averted her gaze before answering in a less sure tone. "I need to go back to the medbay."

Muscles tense, Jorgan sat forward to examine Fynta's body for reopened wounds. "Are you hurt?" What could be bad enough to make his stubborn wife volunteer to return?

"No," Fynta answered, then grumbled. "Yes."

Jorgan's brows pulled together with so much confusion that he felt them touch. Fynta let out a bleak laugh. "I can't stop thinking about Vik." The admission surprised Jorgan. She hadn't mentioned that early morning breakdown since it happened, and Jorgan knew better than to ask.

The question of how that connected to the medbay, however, stalled Jorgan's understanding until he realized what led to it. "The wall?" Fynta nodded. A pang of despair shot through him at the memory of the names he'd added only a few days earlier. Abbeth, Xaban, Kanner, Torg...all cut down in their youth in a senseless war. "Sure you're up to this?"

"I have to be," Fynta answered, letting the blanket slide from her shoulder as she stood. Jorgan followed, keeping close enough to help should she need it, but far enough back not to insult her. Fynta continued to speak while wrestling her boot on one-handed. "I know that Vik would have helped if I'd given him the chance. He might not have joined us, but…" she massaged her brows with a sigh, eyes squeezed shut. "Fierfek. I—"

Jorgan knelt and tied the laces, remembering the days of doing similar after she'd lost her leg. Thankfully, this injury was temporary. "I get it," he whispered, rising again. "I'll never call him a good man, but I know you two had some kind of screwed up friendship."

"Yeah," Fynta laughed, but her heart wasn't in it. She accepted Jorgan's arm and allowed him to lead her through the base, nodding at passersby who wished her a speedy recovery.

Jorgan paused at the entrance to the medical wing, astounded again by the textured wall leading into the medcenter. Fynta let out a pained noise that he'd never heard from her. "There are so many." The names of the fallen started at the entrance to the medbay, put there by doctors, nurses, friends, and family, and stretched out into the main base. "I remember when this wall was blank."

"Come on," Jorgan prodded, trying to keep his wife from slipping into that dark place they couldn't afford to go. The same place that Felix had kept him from going to.

An electrochisel sat on a podium that moved with the lines of names. Seven more had been added since Jorgan's visit, finishing off the column and starting a new one. Fynta kicked the step stool into place, and Aric's hands settled on her hips to offer support when she reached the top stair. A steady hum filled the empty corridor, followed by the high pitched noise of hard rock being forced from its natural place.

It took less than five minutes. Fynta flipped the tool off, then patted Jorgan's hand to let him know she was ready to back down. What remained were the squiggly lines in all caps, TANNO VIK. Jorgan noted that Fynta left off the Weequay's rank and smirked. He'd appreciate that, Vik had always hated the military.

"Should've waited until I had both arms available," Fynta said, scowling at her work.

"I think it suits him," Jorgan answered as they stood side by side, staring at the new marks in the grey stone. "Just think of all the ways he'd find to bitch about it." Fynta laughed, startling Jorgan in the quiet. Her laughter was light, breathy in a way that told Jorgan that she was doing just that.

Sucking in a deep breath, Fynta nodded. "Yeah." Jorgan waited for more, then decided that was all she intended to say. After a few minutes, she leaned against his arm. "Let's go home."

Manda'yaim
Enceri
Two Weeks Later

"I still can't believe it," Fynta cooed, face so close to the holo that Verin could almost see up her nose. "You made that?" She leaned back with a grin that made the annoying older brother itch to fire back. Better sense prevailed over adolescent insults.

"I had help," Verin protested, smiling down at the bald, helpless being in his arms. She was a perfect mixture of him and Keshal, with tiny features too fragile to fathom. While he wanted to take credit for bringing another little warrior into the galaxy, Keshal had done all of the work. Seven hours, along with a few crass words for her husband, and Verin was a biological father. Even now, with his daughter slumbering in his arms, he struggled to believe it.

Verin's gaze drifted to the mantel while a fire burned in the grate. Winter blanketed Manda'yaim not with snow, but with a hard-packed ground unsuitable to life. Not the best time to purchase land and set up a karyai, but Verin had gotten it for a steal. There was room for expansion, and Tranx enjoyed the sense of privacy his wing provided, while still living at home.

Enceri was a trade town, small enough to dodge the radar of undesirables, but close enough to Keldabe to make a day trip worthwhile. It was everything Verin could ask for in a Mandalorian home. Spacious, comfortable, and filling with family.

Fynta cleared her throat, and Verin looked up to see that the stupid grin had returned. He'd obviously missed something. "I asked what you decided to name her." Jorgan rumbled something in the background, then appeared on the holo. Verin saw the way the Cathar's eyes softened before offering congratulations. His little girl had just gained herself a fiercely protective Cathar uncle.

Elbowing her husband out of the way, Fynta filled the holo again. One brow lifted in expectation of an answer. "Josi," Verin answered after a steadying breath. The name still felt alien on his tongue. While Verin thought of his parents daily, neither he nor Fynta had spoken their names out loud in years.

Fynta's features went slack, and a faint look of hurt crossed her face before she could stop it. Verin saw the scared little girl he'd promised to protect in that moment. "It seemed only right," he continued, rushing through the next words before Fynta could object to his choice. "I think buir would have been a fun grandma." Their mother had always loved children. Verin had teased her on Fynta's thirteenth birthday that it was time to have another now that her baby had entered adulthood. She'd given him a playful wink and patted his cheek. Verin had never been brave enough to explore what that could have meant, then she died mere weeks later.

Verin tightened his hold on little Josi. For now, she'd remain safe at home with Keshal and Tranx while Torian's clan settled around the village. According to Keshal, they'd always been a tight-knit, though small group, and none of the families strayed far. Even Shae had decided to purchase a plot in the next town over. Verin found it ironic that Zakuul had reunited the clans and brought them all home.

"It's a strong name," Fynta agreed, dragging Verin from his scattered thoughts. Damn, he was tired suddenly. "Keshal didn't mind?"

Verin shook his head, stifling a yawn. "Tranx has his father's name, so she gave me the honor of naming our daughter."

"Fierfek," Fynta breathed. "I can't believe you're a dad. There's a little you in the universe now. It's terrifying."

Verin stuck out his tongue, and Fynta roared with laughter. Josi flinched at the sound, bottom lip shooting out and face scrunched into an angry ball. He waited for the wail, then let out a long breath when the infant settled into sleep again. "On that note," Verin sighed. "I'd better get off before you wake her, and Keshal by proxy. I'm not sure which one would fuss more."

Fynta chuckled, quieter this time. "I'm proud of you, ori'vod." Without another word, she cut the connection. They didn't say goodbye, never had, for fear of making the separation permanent. So far, the tradition had worked. Fynta always found her way back.

Standing, Verin stretched his back and gently bounced the bundle in his arms. Tranx entered the room, then froze and tiptoed back out when he realized that someone was still awake. "Get back in here," Verin called in a hushed voice.

The boy, now taller than Verin, slumped into the room like he was going to an execution. Tranx knew what Verin was going to ask, and his posture made Verin all the more determined to hear the answer. "So?"

Tranx didn't answer immediately. A tight knot threatened to choke Verin until his son flashed bright, white teeth. "She said yes. Well, first she punched me for waiting so long, then said yes." Tranx rubbed his shoulder with a grin. "We're going to wait until she's of age, of course, but that's only another year."

Crossing the room, Verin pulled Tranx into a tight hug while tucking Josi against his side. "I wasn't worried," he laughed with a hard thump on Tranx's back. "Go wake your mother." With a breathless huff of laughter, Tranx scurried to share the good news. Verin let out a long breath, not that he'd doubted his son's chances, but proposals were terrifying even in their culture.

Tranx had turned sixteen the day before his sister was born. The age when a young Mandalorian could choose a spouse. There had never been a doubt who Tranx set his sights on, a skinny little girl with red hair and a faceful of freckles. The two had been friends since long before Verin entered the picture, and in the next year, she would become another part of the family.

Verin looked down at Josi when her pale eyes opened with a yawn. For the moment, they were a lighter blue than his, striking against darker skin tones. "Who knows, little one. Maybe you'll have a cousin soon." Josi squinted, yawned again, and drifted back into sleep. Verin laughed when she triggered his own reflex. It was late, and he'd wasted enough time catching up with Fynta.

Turning down the hall that led to his room, Verin heard Keshal's excited exclamation and sighed when Josi startled awake with a cry.

Odessen
Commander's Quarters

"I've always loved the stars…"

No. Fynta's pulse throbbed behind her eyes as she strained to see through the dark. She was so cold, lost in a silence that was broken only by the whisper of laughter that echoed from everywhere. Fynta's mind raced, stomping down fears as fast as they cropped up, searching for a way out.

Had it all been a dream? Some delusion conjured by Valkorion where Fynta was rescued, found her husband, and began her life again? "No," Fynta snapped, though she wasn't sure if it was at herself or the Sith chakaar. "This isn't real."

"Really?" Valkorian asked, humor tinging a voice that sounded too solid to be a hallucination. "Perhaps you're right."

Light flared so suddenly that Fynta hissed. She tried her cover her eyes, but nothing obeyed her commands. "This could be a dream," Valkorion continued while Fynta blinked, straining to move so much as a finger. "Or, a warning." Arcann huddled on a medical bed, shaking and weak while a woman's humming filled the space around him.

Paralysis forgotten, Fynta searched the room for any indication of where Arcann was being hidden. But, the plain, grey walls looked the same as any number of medbays. "Where is he?" She rasped.

"You said that my assistance wasn't required," Valkorion mused, smirk visible in the overly bright lights in the room. He squatted, putting himself at eye level with Fynta. "You made your feelings well known on that topic."

"Then why are you here," Fynta snapped. Every instinct in her mind screamed to wake up and distance herself from the apparition haunting her nightmares. But she needed to find Arcann, to kill him.

Valkorion leaned in, face so close to Fynta's that she felt his cold breath on her cheeks. Suddenly, she stood next to a bed where a woman laid with her back pressed to Aric's chest while his face disappeared into her hair. "What are you playing at?" Aric's arm tightened around the woman's waist, and she sighed in contentment. Fynta couldn't make her mind see that as her in the bed, not while she stood over them.

Valkorion lifted a lock of the woman's hair, answering in a bored tone. "My son recovers while you laze about. Is this the legacy you want to leave, the woman who almost dethroned the emperor of Zakuul?"

Fynta's lips back in a snarl that Aric would have been proud of. "I will end him."

The room shimmered, and Fynta's eyes popped open with a force that jarred her whole body. Aric's warmth soaked into her back, calming the ragged breaths that she hadn't realized plagued her. She felt an intense need to rush from the room to take up the hunt for Arcann, to hound the search team for any answers.

"You okay?" Aric's voice startled Fynta from her frantic thoughts. He yawned, fingers tracing lazy circles against her ribs. "Nightmare?"

"I—" Fynta considered what had woken her, why her skin was clammy and heart racing. It must have been one hell of a dream, but at least she didn't go for her blaster. "Must have," she answered. Her mind was too muddled to consider the implications of forgetting. That wasn't an uncommon thing for someone in her situation, there was a lot of osik in her past to fuel nightmares. It could have been anything. "Sorry to wake you."

Aric yawned again, pulling her tighter against his body. He expelled a long breath that tickled the back of Fynta's neck before drifting back into the smooth breathing patterns of sleep. Fynta focused on her muscles, relaxing them in turns until her body molded against Aric's. Within the time it took to moderate her breathing, sleep took hold. Fynta lingered in the space between wakefulness and the dream world, barely registering the baritone voice that whispered in the back of her mind.

"You. Are. Ready."

Mando'a:

karyai: main living room of a traditional north Mandalorian house - a single big chamber for eating, talking, resting, and even the last secure stronghold when under attack

buir: mother