A/N: This is just a short Halloween fic that in no way foreshadows Heart on a Trigger. I wrote it last year, but never got around to editing it, so decided to give it another go this year. Hope you all enjoy.

Odessen
0700 Hours

Fynta ran down the hallways of the Alliance Base, fuming as those around her barely held onto ordered chaos. "I thought we were monitoring Dr. Oggurobb," she snarled as another medic called for bandages.

"We were - are," Theron corrected, keeping stride with Fynta but staying out of immediate throttling range. "I'll figure out how he smuggled the sample in."

"Give me the facts, Shan." They turned down another hallway, and Fynta raised her sidearm, taking down two rakghouls in engineer coveralls.

Theron held his datapad instead of a blaster, not bothering to look up when Fynta fired. "So far, it looks like the outbreak has been contained to the lab and connecting hallways. I don't know the specifics yet, but we've got reports of two dozen turned, meaning the infection started last night." Theron glanced up when the Verpine rang again. "Make that twenty-six."

"Sir." Fynta lowered her weapon when Jorgan stepped out of the laboratory cradling his rifle. "Lab is clear and Doctor Oggurobb has been remanded to custody. Damn things didn't go near him."

"Of course they didn't, who'd want to bite a slug?" Aric's lips twitched into a smirk, and Fynta continued. "Casualty list?"

"Commander, come in."

Fynta tilted her head out of habit when Lana's voice came over the small ear bead she now wore. It was a poor substitute for her HUD, but the Commander of the Alliance had less need of a full suit of beskar'gam these days. "Go ahead, Lana."

"There has been a breach, we are attempting to evacuate the mess hall, but these creatures are-" the Sith woman paused, and Fynta heard the distinct sound of a lightsaber whirling through the air. "Their speed is quite impressive."

"On our way," Fynta responded. She'd taken two steps when Aygo broke over the comms.

"Hostiles in the aircraft hangar. We need backup; they're tearing through the ships."

"You go," Jorgan called, already in motion towards the hangar. "I'll help Aygo."

Fynta eyed the Cathar's attire. Neither of them were wearing proper armor tonight; it had been their day off. A blessed rarity that Fynta had planned on taking advantage of by locking them on the Thunderclap until sunrise tomorrow. Instead, they were chasing rakghouls through a secret base on an alien world. Fynta ran her hands down her face and growled at the feeling of deja'vu. This was just like old times.

Jorgan chuckled and slipped an arm around Fynta's waist, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "Let's wrap this up so we can get back to our plans," he whispered.

Theron cleared his throat noisily, "Uh, Commander?"

Fynta ignored the man, tipping her head back to kiss her husband's chin while he glared at the former SIS agent. "Be careful, riduur."

"Likewise." Their eyes met, then Jorgan was gone.

Fynta and Theron ran towards the commissary while Aric turned to the south where Aygo was mustering reinforcements. A frenzy of voices filled her comm, calling for aid or relaying orders to contain the outbreak. Anyone who'd come into contact with rakghoul fluids were being quarantined on a sublevel brig until they could be tested for infection.

Fynta narrowly missed joining them, having been taken off guard by a juvenile in a mechanic's uniform. The snapping jaws had been inches from her throat, the barrel of her blaster the only thing that kept the creature from ripping into Fynta's flesh. Lana had torn the thing off, impaling it on her blade a safe distance away.

By the time they finally gained control of the situation, Fynta had spent fourteen hours on her feet, weapon in hand, while she personally cleared every floor. She was talking to Yuun about contingencies and antidotes when Theron joined her again. He looked haggard, his usually spiky hair sticking out in all directions. Fynta wasn't sure exactly when she'd lost him, but it was good to see that he'd made it through unharmed.

"Yuun, I want hourly updates. We need that serum as soon as you can make it. Tear Oggurobb's lab apart if you have to, but I'm not letting that slug out of lockup."

"It will be done as requested, Commander." The Gand dipped his head and set about his new task, pointing out favored scientists to join him as he went. Should have just given the lab to Yuun in the first place, Fynta grumbled internally.

Sana-Rae waited for the commander's attention next, falling into step as they walked. "There are fourteen healers amongst those who dwell in the Enclave, would you like them to see to the infected as well?"

"No," Fynta replied too sternly, causing the Voss native to tip her head delicately to the side. "Were any Force users infected?" Sana-Rae shook her head, long robes rustling with the movement. Fynta breathed a sigh of relief. "Pull them back to the Enclave and begin repair efforts." They'd made a mess trying to contain the rakghoul infestation, and Fynta couldn't risk a person with Force powers ending up as a slobbering, murderous beast.

No sooner had Sana-Rae glided off than Hylo Visz stormed into her place. The woman flapped her arms, swearing in just about every known language. "Those kriffing things tore through the supply locker! That place is a disaster." She stopped short of running into Fynta and planted her hands on her hips. "And where was my husband?" The woman waved behind her to where Gault stood with a big grin and an armload of artwork.

Fynta raised an eyebrow at the Devaronian, who didn't even have the audacity to look ashamed of himself. "What? These are worth a fortune, can you imagine the loss if they'd been damaged?"

Hylo crossed her arms and glared while Fynta groaned. "Gault, go help clean up or I will personally send Vette to rewire your favorite ship."

The Devaronian took a step back, his jaw slack. "Okay, okay. Sheesh. You women are so touchy." Hylo harrumphed and grabbed his good horn to pull him along behind her.

"Commander?" Theron said quietly.

Fynta glanced over, concerned by the tone of his voice. Until her eyes settled on Aygo sitting on a stool at the end of the hallway being seen to by a medic. "Hold that thought, Theron." She rushed over to check on the Bothan, eyes skimming over him for bites. "You okay, Admiral?"

The man looked up and nodded, the tufts on his ears bobbing as he did so. "Those rakghouls were hell-bent on destroying anything electronic. Jorgan said you two saw intelligent ones on Taris, but nothing this ferocious."

Fynta remembered that op all too well, even after all these years. "Were you bitten?"

"No, your husband got me out of there, but I broke my foot in the process. He's a good man," Aygo replied.

Fynta breathed a sigh of relief. "He is. Speaking of which, I should check in with him. Please excuse me."

"Commander," Theron repeated, his tone more urgent this time.

"One moment, I need to find Jorgan, then Doctor Lokin." Fynta should have found him fourteen hours ago, but she'd been preoccupied and her brain said, kill the threat, instead of, find the one man who might be able to contain this osik. "Maybe he can help Yuun with this whole vaccine-"

"Damn it, Fynta!" Theron growled. She stopped cold, eyebrows raised.

Theron was an insufferable ass, but he rarely raised his voice. Ice swept through Fynta's veins, starting at the top of her head and working its way down her spine. "What's wrong?"

Theron held her gaze, then nodded over his shoulder. "I need you to come with me."

"Can't it wait? I have a lot of cleanup to do, plus a husband to placate," Fynta answered. The way Theron's eyebrows pulled together immediately tied her gut in a knot.

"No, sir. It can't. Come with me please." Theron started down the hall towards the elevator, and Fynta knew she was following him to quarantine.

"Who is it, Theron?" Fynta asked. The man cut his eyes at her, opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again with the shake of his head. That reaction meant she wasn't going to like the answer; that it was someone close. A list of names ran through Fynta's mind, Cormac being foremost. Shab, I should have checked in with him too, or told Aric to keep an eye on him. Or maybe it was Verin. The di'kut always ran headlong into situations without thinking first. Maybe Adan, had he been injured, Jorgan would never forgive himself, or what about Koth?

"Theron," Fynta said again, hating the rise of panic in her voice, but unable to stop it. "Who is it?" Fynta considered all the possibilities. She ticked off names, trying to remember when she'd last seen who, and where they'd been stationed during the cleanup. She replayed the comm chatter in her head trying to pinpoint who called for medics, backup, and evacs, but eventually abandoned that too. The whole ordeal was a blur of teeth and blaster fire.

Theron led Fynta through the quarantine sector, watching her out of the corner of his eye while she took in the horrors around them. "How long does it take?" Fynta asked, quietly nodding to a rakghoul in a soldier's uniform. The creature slobbered on the bars, snarling at anyone who came too close. Fynta couldn't even tell the creature's former gender.

"Average transformation takes roughly six hours," Theron answered, pushing a door open that led to the private rooms in the back.

Four more sets of doors later, and Theron stopped. His fingers splayed over the word CAUTION, and he glared at it as if he hated the door's very existence. Fynta felt bile rise in her throat. "Are you coming in?"

"Only if you want me to." Theron's voice sounded flat, and Fynta knew that he wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this room as possible. Only their long-standing friendship drew him this far, and for that, she was grateful.

Fynta took a deep breath. "I may have some questions," she answered finally. She needed someone to explain to her what lay on the other side, even if only for a moment.

With a nod, Theron pushed open the door that led to the isolation cell inside. The first thing that hit Fynta was the smell: rotting flesh and stagnant water. It slammed into her hard enough to make her eyes water, but that wasn't what stuck her feet in place.

"Aric."

Fynta's hand went to her mouth. He hadn't even been a consideration, Aygo said he'd just seen him. Right? She was going to contact him after she took care of this; they were going to go home, sleep for the next twenty-four hours, and finally have that date they'd missed.

The Cathar looked up and crossed the enclosed space to put both hands flat against the glass wall of his cell. Fynta couldn't reconcile the man in front of her with the image of her husband even though she knew they were the same man. Jorgan's normally golden fur had turned a dingy grey, and his brilliant blue eyes were dull, coming startlingly close to matching the now grey hued sclera. Aric's cheeks looked sunken in, as if he'd dropped ten kilos since the last time she'd seen him.

Fynta stood frozen until Theron nudged her forward, but once her feet were unstuck, she ran. Slamming into the glass, Fynta matched her hands to her husband's. "What happened? I just talked to Aygo, he said you were fine."

Aric looked over Fynta's head at Theron, a silent accusation that he had failed to prepare her for this. The Cathar's eyes softened when he looked back at his wife. "I was bitten early on. I knew it took a while and figured I could still be of some use. Plus, my immune system might be able to fight it longer." He sighed and dropped his hands. "I'm sorry, Fynta."

"How early?" She asked, trying to keep the tightness out of her voice. Every fiber of her being demanded that she attack the situation, but there wasn't an enemy for her to kill. She couldn't fight this. "How long have you been here? Why wasn't I told?"

"He was bitten roughly twelve hours ago, Fynta," Theron answered, his voice maintained the same flat tone as before. The SIS agent had distanced from the situation, protecting himself the only way he knew how.

Fynta did a few mental calculations, her heart rate peaking when she realized that there wasn't much time left. Jorgan had already doubled the expected incubation period. "I told them not to distract you," Aric continued before Fynta could direct her anger towards Theron.

"He turned himself in four hours ago," Theron replied. "When the fever started."

Fynta felt her chest tighten, pressed her forehead against the cool glass to buy herself time to think. She stared at Aric's boots trying to formulate a plan that could extend his life long enough for Yuun to complete the serum. "Fynta, look at me," Jorgan ordered quietly. When she didn't respond, he lowered his voice further. "Riduur."

It was a personal name, spoken in a language that Aric seldom used. Fynta heard the door shut behind her and registered Theron's exit. She squeezed her eyes shut, telling herself that if she repeated it often enough, she'd wake up in bed, Aric by her side, and find that this had been nothing more than a nightmare.

"Fynta, please, look at me." When she opened her eyes, Aric squatted before her, gazing up with a hopeful expression. He looked so pale, shab, she hadn't realized that a Cathar could look pale.

In that moment, Fynta's mind was made up. "Fierfek," she muttered and strode to the door.

"No!" Jorgan reached it just as Fynta finished typing in the code and threw his weight against it, preventing her from entering the cell.

"Move, Aric," Fynta growled, throwing her shoulder against the glass. It was a testament to how weak he'd already become that she was able to budge the door at all.

Jorgan leaned into the door more and snarled back at her. "I'm not risking you becoming infected, Fynta. Stop and think."

"I am thinking." Nothing could be clearer, in fact. She pounded against the barrier with her fists. "You and me; we said we wouldn't go alone again, remember?" Fynta heaved her weight against the door again, feeling the slightest give, but not enough to gain purchase. "Let me in, Aric." Fynta told herself that this wasn't giving up, it was fulfilling a promise. She'd enter the Manda with her husband, there were plenty of people who would do a much better job at leading the Alliance anyway. Fynta had no business being in charge of an army, let alone an Empire.

"No," Aric repeated through clenched teeth. "You need to live. Someone needs to look after Cormac, to find Elara. They need you, Fynta." He slammed the meaty part of his fist into the glass to get her attention. Fynta started, looking up to meet his eyes again. "I need to know that you're watching out for them."

"And I need you," Fynta whispered in return. She hated the weakness in her voice, but she wouldn't take the words back. More spilled out after them, a sudden flow of honesty that she'd never been able to admit to before. "If our situations had been reversed, I couldn't have held on as long as you, Aric. I'm not strong enough to do this alone."

"Then don't."

Fynta blinked, almost took a step back. "What?" Aric was Cathar, once he chose a mate, he stayed true until death, period. He'd remained faithful for the five years he thought her dead, and Fynta had assumed that he'd hold her to that same custom. The sudden realization that he didn't, hurt in a strange, illogical way.

Aric sighed, lips pressing into that familiar, tight smile. "Fynta, I don't want you to be alone for the rest of your life."She started to protest, but Aric held up his hand. "I mean it. Find someone worthy of you. Someone to watch your back."

Mandalorians remarried all the time, it was the only way to keep her race from going extinct with such a high die-off rate, but could Fynta simply move on? Aric had been her world, her salvation.

Fynta snorted a humorless laugh. "How am I supposed to find anyone to top you, Aric Jorgan?" The Cathar chuckled, though it sounded more like a cough, and clutched at his ribs. Fynta pressed against the glass. "Aric?"

Jorgan dropped to one knee, teeth clenched, and eyes screwed shut. Fynta's hands fluttered everywhere, desperate to touch him. "Maybe Yuun is almost done with the vaccine," she breathed, buckling until she was level with her husband."Just hold on, riduur."

Aric looked up, taking a shaky breath, and smiled. "You're beautiful, Fynta Jorgan." No, Fynta thought. He never used her married name, and hearing it now left her with a sense of dread.

Struggling back to his feet, Aric braced his forehead against the glass in a clear effort to support himself. "I love you. But, you need to leave now."

"What?"Fynta's voice filled with indignation. "No, I'm not leaving."

Jorgan winced with the effort to push upright. He grew weaker before Fynta's eyes, and she cursed her inability to supply comfort. "You know what happens next," he ground out, each word becoming harder to form. "That's not how I want you to remember me."

"You stubborn shabuir," Fynta growled in reply. "I'm not leaving this damn room. And unless you open this door, you can't make me."

The Cathar stared at her, then attempted another chuckle, this one as doomed to failure as the last. He gave up and slid to the floor on the other side of the door, still jamming it shut. "I guess there are worse ways to go than looking into my wife's eyes."

Fynta sat opposite of him and leaned her shoulder against the glass. "We never got our date."

"And I had your favorite field rations all laid out for you," Jorgan sighed. Another violent coughing fit tore through the Cathar, blood speckling the floor. Aric swore and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Shab, Aric." Fynta moved to her knees, both palms pressed against the divider. "Let me in, cyare. At least until the end." Her heart pounded in her ears. She wasn't ready, she needed more time.

Jorgan tipped his head back. It seemed to Fynta that his color had turned more grey than before, and his body visibly trembled, as if he was maintaining this state of limbo by sheer will alone. "It's already too late, Fynta."

"Aric, look at me."

Jorgan had his eyes shut, taking deep breaths. One eye opened, sliding over to his wife. They stayed like that for the space of six heartbeats, then he screamed and doubled over. "I'm here, Aric." Fynta called desperately over his cries. She ran her hands over the cell divider, following his writhing movements. "I'm not going anywhere."

Fynta watched in horror as the Cathar's hair fell from his body in clumps. Jorgan was on his knees, bent forward to press his forehead into the floor while bloodied fingers dug at his scalp. She heard his bones snapping as the Cathar's body forced itself into a new, grotesque shape. Needle like spines ripped through his back, shredding the military fatigues. One clawed hand slammed into the glass, and the creature who had once been Aric Jorgan looked the commander in the eyes.

"Fynta," it rasped, then threw its head back in a bestial roar.

"I'm here," she whispered, thumbing the strap that secured her blaster in place. "I'm not going anywhere."