Here you'll find one-shots for all eight classes and their romances. There will be spoilers for all eight classes. These stories are in no particular order, but before each one, I'll post the class and when about the one-shot takes place.


Class: Republic Trooper

When: Episode I, Tatooine


"I think that's everyone, sir," Jorgan said, peering out into the dust storm. "What do you think? Wait it out at the ship?"

Wynneth followed his gaze. She could still see the outlines of the buildings outside, but according to Galen, soon Anchorhead would disappear in a cloud of dust. Her shoulder throbbed a bit. One of these days she'd have to bite the bullet and have Dorne take a look. Stretching her arms behind her back, she said, "Be more trouble than it's worth. We've been running around all day. Might be nice to sit down for a bit."

"Works for me," Jorgan said. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Gonna run to the head."

She nodded and began the process of sitting down in heavy armor, always harder than it looked, even with a lighter variety that she preferred. Once she gently placed her assault rifle down on the ground next to her, Wynneth brought her knees up to her chest. Her eyelids felt like they had weights on them, but she would never consider closing her eyes in a place like Anchorhead. Not until Jorgan got back at least. Then perhaps she could take a quick nap.

Outside, the dust storm started to rage, leaving Wynneth glad that they decided not to venture to the next outpost. Who'd want to be out in that weather? She let out a snort of a laugh, thinking that the storm reflected her mood. Since when did she consider herself a warrior-poet?

Her thoughts almost immediately turned melancholy. Jorgan would disagree, she knew, but Wynneth had a hard time trying convince herself that their mission so far had been anything than a failure. Two members of the original Havoc squad dead. And she had a hard time believing that the rest would have a dissimilar fate.

Where did she go wrong? She had so many hopes pinned to this mission and now it felt harder than catching water in her palms.

"That's a dangerous look, rookie," Jorgan said.

Wynneth looked up and saw Jorgan holding two cups of coffee. "Oh stars, you're my hero," she said, reaching up for the coffee cup before Jorgan even had a chance to offer it to her.

He gave her a grin. "Who said one's for you?" Jorgan said, placing a cup in her hands. Even through her armored gloves she could feel the warmth of the cup. "Maybe I'm just really thirsty."

"No teasing your CO," Wynneth said, taking a sip. Perfect. Jorgan somehow managed to put in just the right amount of cream. "You are a lifesaver."

"All part of the job."

Wynneth sipped at her coffee while Jorgan maneuvered to sit down on the floor next to her, balancing his coffee without spilling a drop. "Could have held that for you," she said.

"I trust you with my life," Jorgan said seriously. He took a sip and closed his eyes. "Not with my coffee."

"That stings, Jorgan," Wynneth said, pleased to not think about the death and destruction they would leave behind on Tatooine. She didn't sign up for the army to cause death, she wanted to prevent it.

"There's that look again," Jorgan said, his voice softer than Wynneth ever remembered hearing before.

Her gauntlets kept her from feeling the warmth of the cup in her hands. Not that she needed extra warmth on Tatooine. She knew already she looked a mess, her hair matted and droplets of sweat trickling down her temple. "You must have thought I was an idiot."

Jorgan froze next to her, his coffee cup half way to his mouth. "Sir?"

"We're off duty, Jorgan. Cut the 'sir' crap."

After taking a sip, Jorgan leaned back his head so it rested against the cool tile. "Care to explain?"

"When I promised Kardan that I'd bring them back alive…" Wynneth trailed off, thinking of the tense meeting on Coruscant. "You must of thought I was so stupid." This time she did close her eyes, picturing the Needles and Fuse, dead, because she hadn't been smart enough, fast enough, strong enough.

Jorgan let out a low whistle. "You really want to know what I think?"

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't," Wynneth said. She turned her head to meet his gaze, wondering why his opinion was so damn important to her.

He looked right back at her. There was no challenge in his gaze, no pity, only understanding. "I thought it was naive to promise that," Jorgan said after a moment. "I get why you did. You truly believed that you could, rookie, and that's commendable. And up until we put a bullet in Needles' brain, you had me believing, too. But those kind of traitors…"

"Would never let themselves be captured alive," Wynneth finished. "So we kill them instead." Her toes curled, as if to ground her closer to the earth. "Sometimes I'm just really sick of death, Jorgan."

"Soldiers like you and me? We don't have the luxury of getting tired," Jorgan said, shaking his head. "We're the ones that take care of the dirty work so a fresh face recruit can believe they can make a difference."

"You just described me ten years ago," Wynneth said with a sigh, thinking how optimistic she was when she enlisted, thinking she would help rid the galaxy of the Empire and make things better for everyone. And then came the Outer Rim and she never looked at the galaxy with quite the same innocence.

"Ignore me," Jorgan said. "I'm Cathar, we tend towards the naturally pessimistic."

Wynneth bit her lip, thinking of her younger self. She wondered what her eighteen year old self would think of her now, the commander of Havoc squad with access to almost all the secrets the Republic had to offer. Eighteen year old Wynneth would be horrified of all the skeletons in the closet. Now, she simply hoped the closet was big and secure enough to hold them all. Somehow she doubted it. But that was for another day.

She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes. Yes, she was older and wiser, than the eager ensign she had been, but that didn't mean she had to lose her optimism completely. They had another lead, on Alderaan. Maybe, just maybe they could bring someone, anyone, in alive. Wynneth knew Jorgan wanted them all dead, but she had made a promise. She owed it to her eighteen year old self to try to fulfill it, no matter what.

With a sigh, Wynneth brought out her datapad. Might as well catch up on some datawork while they were stuck here. Jorgan followed her lead and together, they waited for the dust to settle.