Any attempt on attacking The First Order meant a whole new batch of wounded soldiers and pilots. Of course it bothered her somewhere deep down inside to see fellow members of the Resistance hurt or even dying, but by the stoic look on her face one could tell she'd seen plenty of it. It was her job and she told herself there was no use getting overly emotional when there were people who needed her. She had to remind herself a lot lately. People were relying on her to work quickly and accurately.

There were other people working in the medical ward of the Resistance base on D'Qar, of course, as well as quite a few medical droids who assisted frequently and made things go more smoothly, but Petra Adhara knew what she was doing and there was a lot on her plate because of that. There was a lot on everyone's plate with the Resistance.

The worst part of her job was sitting and waiting. There was near silence except for the distant hum of machines somewhere outside. Dane Reznor, a fellow human medic, began to straighten the sheets on one of the beds. Petra had known him long enough to recognize this as a nervous trait. They were ready, but they didn't really know if they were ready. There was no real way of knowing how many injured resistance members to expect until they came back. Many or few, they needed to be prepared as best they could and now that they were all they could do was wait and hope for the best.

It was time for the silence to break. Petra listened for her assignment from Apoch, the medical leader. Minor injuries were mainly the expectation today. That's what she'd be working on. Back to silence.

They waited there for what seemed like forever. Her mind began to wander. She knew she needed to focus. Recently it had been so difficult.

The doors burst open and Petra was jolted from her thoughts, pushing herself forward from where she'd been leaning against the cold wall and rushing forward to assist the wounded. There weren't a lot of them, but most were X-Wing fighters in their orange jumpsuits, a few still wearing their helmets painted with the familiar symbol of the Resistance.

"Here, let me help you." Petra called above the noise that had replaced the silence.

She put her hand on the fighter's back, guiding them toward a bed on the far left of the room where they sat down.

Petra instinctively reached for the fighter's helmet, unfortunately reaching at the same time as them. Their fingers met for a second and Petra pulled the helmet off carefully, quickly moving her fingers away from there's. The face revealed to her was not one she'd expected and she had to consciously keep her expression from falling. She hadn't known who to expect exactly, but it hadn't been Commander Poe Dameron.

She didn't think he knew her, but everyone knew him. In fact, she didn't think he'd even ever been in the medical ward before. Maybe she just didn't remember or hadn't been the one to treat him. It was likely. She saw so many faces in and out of the ward all the time. Petra never forgot their eyes though. She'd never seen these eyes up close, dark brown, but bright and full of a fire she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Commander Dameron." she stated, turning quickly to grab for a first aid kit that she'd strategically placed there earlier for this particular use. "Are you experiencing any pain?"

"Just my face. I don't think it's very serious." He replied gesturing to cuts that littered his dirty visage. "It was crazy out there today. I think we-"

"Um, I'm sorry, can you stop talking for a moment?" Petra interrupted and he complied. There was no way for her to do her job properly with him carrying on.

Petra reached up with an antiseptic cloth to wipe at the blood around his nose and on his cheek. He winced.

"There's glass…" she mumbled, reaching for the tweezer-like tool.

"Woah, woah, I think I'm fine. I'll just…" Poe stammered, attempting to stand up. Petra stood in his way though.

"Do you want it to get infected? Trust me, I don't think you do."

Poe's mouth flattened to a thin line. She was right and he knew it.

Petra leaned forward to pick out a few tiny shards of glass from the cut that ran along his jawline. She'd seen it more often than not. All it took was the crack of a cockpit's windshield and even a helmet couldn't stop the little pieces of glass from finding their way to a pilot's face.

When she'd finished he gave her a funny smile, opening his mouth, but then shutting it quickly, remembering what she'd told him about keeping quiet.

"You can talk now." Petra said, prepping a small bandaid with ointment for the cut on his cheek. "I know you're busy, but I'd like to keep an eye on that slice you've got down your jaw."

"Thanks." He nodded, allowing her to put the bandaid on before pressing it on firmer himself.

"That's what I'm here for." She replied coldly before letting out a soft sigh.

Poe stared at her for a few seconds longer than he likely should've, his mind trying to place where he'd seen her in the past, before running a hand through his hair and grabbing his helmet from where Petra had put it beside him.

"Well, I'll be back when I can…um…" he faltered, gesturing to her.

"Petra Adhara." She replied, raising her dark eyebrows slightly.

"Adhara…that name sounds familiar."

"That's probably because-"

Before she could finish, static came over Poe's radio. Someone was calling him.

"I have to get going, I'm needed somewhere and I'm sure you're busy as well." He told her, getting up and giving her a respectful nod as he passed. "It was nice meeting you and thanks again!" he called, pointing to the bandaid on his face as he went through the automatic doors.

So he hadn't recognized her. It was just as she'd expected, and in a way, she felt she was better off with him not knowing who she was.

As soon as he left Petra glanced around to see if there was anyone else in need of assistance. There didn't seem to be. Dane came to stand next to her.

"Was that Commander Dameron?"

"Yeah."

"Are you ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Dane let out a snort.

"We should start cleaning the equipment before we change shifts. The droids can take care of those still in need of care for now unless Apoch wants us to stay. I can come back later tonight." Petra told him, changing the subject.

"I can take the night check. You've handled a lot recently."

A pang of sadness filled Petra's heart. She knew what he was talking about. It'd been nearly a month ago, but the wound was still fresh. It was funny to her how emotional wounds could be as bad as physical ones, maybe even more so.

"No, it's fine. I like checking on the patients. JO-2 will be here with me anyway."

Petra's eyes stayed fixated upon the door. She crossed her arms across her chest. Much of her life had been a war zone. All this fighting for peace, but it was still a fight. She saw it so often, the side of the Resistance many didn't see. Freedom always came at a price. Lives were lost, lives that hadn't even been given the chance to live, and the grief. The grief was the worst. It gnawed at a person until there was nothing left.

"I'll come in too then." Dane suggested suddenly.

"No, it's fine I can-"

"I'm going to come in." he insisted and Petra blinked several times before offering an almost smile.

"Adhara, Reznor, you're free to head to the dining hall if you wish." Came the warm, yet stern voice of Apoch. She'd been running the medical ward since before Petra had arrived. Jahara Apoch and Dane Reznor were the ones who taught her what she knew. She picked things up quickly due to their careful instruction and was now easily one of the best medics in the Resistance.

Not that that mattered to her. It didn't. Many things mattered to Petra Adhara, but being well-known was not one of them. In fact, now more than ever she wished she could simply sink into the background.

Petra felt a hand on her shoulder. She found herself glancing back to see Dane looking at her expectantly. She must've lost her focus again.

"What?"

"I was just saying we can go now if you'd like to." He told her, squeezing her shoulder gently.

"Oh, yeah, ok." she nodded, but her focus was still gone and the events of the day had pushed it even further away and out of reach.