Set during "Star Wars: X-Wing: The Bacta War". Written in response to the Rogue Podron Podcast, Mission 4-4 with the additional unofficial challenge of using the descriptor "slender" as much as possible.
Bror lay limp against the couch cushions of the dark safe his, his cerulean eyes dull and morose. His secret return to Thyferra had gone smoothly, as had the initial meeting with the main Ashern planning group. Things had taken a darker turn, however, when his family received a hologram from Wedge Antilles regretfully informing them of his death at the hands of an Imperial Interdictor.
Since then, he had been forced to move in secret on his own homeworld. Instead of acting out the open as the new patriarch of the Zaltin Corporation, he'd been forced to move underground, lest word of his miraculous survival leak out.
Worst of all, and this thought made Bror shudder and shake with grief, word had returned from Coruscant that Corran Horn was dead.
Bror's thoughts had turned frequently to his Rogue rival since he departed the squadron. There had been no other person in the squad so close to matching his own skill and grace in flight. (He didn't count Antilles - Wedge was rightfully revered as a Living Legend.)
Corran was also delightfully strong, superbly handsome, and eye catchingly slender. Their frequent verbal sparring matches had always brought a stunning spark to the Corellian's verdant eyes as the other man leaned towards him, intent on Bror's every word.
That spark had driven Bror wild, made his want to seize Corran's slender waist and . . . well, take the passion building between them to a new place.
Bror fought back a sob, his chest heaving.
Corran was gone.
He'd spent their brief time together keeping up a false front, unable to open himself to a more intimate relationship. He had thought, foolishly, that he would be able to return to Rogue Squadron someday.
Return to Corran.
He was starting to wonder if this was all worth it. Oh, he wished for his family corporation to bring about an end to the Xucphra Corporation and free the Vratix, especially in Isard's recent arrival and the terrible plague ripping through the non-human population of Coruscant. But it all seemed pointless now.
A soft beep from the nearby terminal interrupted Bror's mournful thoughts. He lay there, his slender form cradled by the couch cushions, listening as the terminal continued to sound, a cruel sound that denied him the time he needed to work through his grief.
Unable to withstand the merciless mechanical tone any longer, Bror dragged himself upright and slowly trudged over to the terminal.
Instead of his usual garb of fashionable casual wear, he was clad only a shapeless, dull, gray coverall. It was overly warm in the tropical heat of Thyferra but what use had he for comfort any longer? What had he done to earn comfort when he had failed to be there to protect Corran? Nothing, absolutely nothing. He deserved no more than the most utilitarian of garb and damn the consequences.
Bror seated himself listlessly at the terminal, bitterness beginning to clog his throat as he keyed in his access code and brought up the demanding message.
Bror let out an audible gasp and warmth flooded his body, his heart starting to pound so hard he thought it would leap out of his chest.
Corran was alive.
The Ashern had been digging for the details of exactly how Isard had been ousted from Coruscant and driven to take over Thyferra. That information now say before him.
Far from being a traitor, Tycho Celchu, the doleful, handsome, and tragic son of Alderaan, had worked with the New Republic to uncover the true spy embedded in Rogue Squadron, throwing himself to the court of public opinion in the first major trial of the new government in a potentially deadly game of spy versus spy.
Bror wasn't ashamed to admit to the anger that had festered in his heart when he had heard the charges - that Tycho was ultimately to blame for Corran's death and had been charged with murder, amongst several other charges.
And Corran, delightful, clever, crafty Corran, had shown up in person to the trial of his supposed murderer, bringing with him definite proof not only of Tycho innocence, but of Isard's many crimes.
The Ashern had even managed to capture a holo from that shocking moment.
Bror devoured the simple holo with hungry eyes. Corran's slender frame was worn and haggard, with thin wrists and ankles peeking out from under a rough, loose brown robe. His face was pale and worn but the same intense, smoldering look filled his lush green eyes.
After several minutes of focused contemplation, Bror tore himself away from the enrapturing holo and returned to the briefing the Ashern had sent him.
He skimmed through the remaining paragraphs quickly.
The traitor? Erisi Dlarit (no surprise there, honestly)
Isard's Super Star Destroyer? Tore its way into space from underneath the surface of Corsucant.
Isard herself had been driven away by Rogue Squadron and flew directly to Thyferra where the traitorous Xucphra had prepared the way for her arrival.
His heart leapt again and he read, re-read again and again the final piece of news. Rogue Squadron, having resigned from service in the New Republic, were fighting to free Thyferra from Isard. In pursuit of that, they were sending a team to Thyferra - a team that included Corran.
In a daze, Bror keyed the holo of Corran back up. He had so much to do. He had to get ready. Corran would be here so very, very soon.
It was time, time for him to-
Corran flinched mid-word as the overhead lights flashed on. His head jerked around, heart racing as he instinctively hid the screen of his datapad.
Mirax blinked sleepily at him from the doorway to the bedroom.
"Sorry," she yawned and leaned against the doorframe. "Coming to bed soon?"
"Oh, uh, yeah," Corran awkwardly waved the datapad at her. "Just need to finish this report," he said in a tight voice. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and feel the flush on his face.
"Alright, finish soon." Mirax yawned again, blinking slow, sleepy eyes, then turned and disappeared into the bedroom, the door sliding shut behind her. The overhead lights went out again.
Corran sat in the dark room for several long moments. Finally, he sighed, and closed down the document. He just wasn't feeling it now. But maybe . . .
He dug into the hidden pocket of his robe and withdrew a new datacard, swapping it with the one in the datapad.
Minutes later, he was deeply embroiled in a different story, one he'd been working on since the mass resignation. Asyr was starting to catch on to Gavin's torrid affair with Sheil and Tycho was getting ready to leave Wedge for . . . better Corellian prospects.