A/N: Sorry I've been so long! I promise I haven't forgotten this story. More coming soon. Thank you for reading!

"Havoc Squad calling General Garza. A-77 was a trap. We rescued most of the prisoners but Sergeant Jaxo was killed in action."

Jorgan glanced at the Major as she spoke, but her face gave away no emotion. The only sign that anything was wrong was that her voice was too icy cold; she was usually more expressive. Jorgan frowned, but said nothing as the call with the General continued.

"Hmm… I'm sorry to hear that," Garza was saying. "But it sounds like you were fortunate to save as many as you did. What happened, exactly?"

"If I hadn't been so slow we would have gotten everyone out." Finnara's voice was weary.

Jorgan was more worried about Finnara than he could say. It had only been a few hours since that terrible moment on the Imperial detention center A-77. The choice she had been forced to make—between saving her friend Jaxo, or saving hundreds of republic prisoners—was not one that anyone should have to face. He knew she had made the "right" choice, if you evaluated it by the number of lives saved alone. But he also knew that the sacrifice of a friend had been a massive betrayal of her personal values. Leave no man behind was practically Havoc Squad's motto. Being forced to betray that ideal was a cruel twist of fate.

Finnara had been too quiet and calm. More than anything, Jorgan wanted to hold her tight and tell her it was alright. But they were soldiers. They didn't have time to grieve. They had to complete their objectives, make their reports. Jorgan found himself wishing that they could just be normal people, sometimes.

After a few more questions about the events on A-77, General Garza was on to the next mission. "Let's keep the pressure on. Your next assignment is on a planet called Voss. I'm sending the coordinates now. Contact me as soon as you arrive. Garza out."

The holo image of the General blinked out, and a second later the comm beeped at the incoming message containing the coordinates. Finnara stood still for a moment, staring unseeing at the space where Garza had been.

Jorgan reached out and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Finn—" He didn't know what he could possibly say that wouldn't seem callous.

She started at his touch, but didn't look at him. "Not now." She turned away and strode toward the stairs up to the bridge. Jorgan let her go. He knew a need to be alone when he saw it.

Wishing again that he could do something to help but knowing he couldn't, he headed to the armory to stow his gear. After it was safely put away he went to the mess to grab a bite to eat.

Elara, Tanno and Yuun were all seated around the small table, eating what looked like a thick stew.

"On the stove," said Elara, indicating the cook area with a tilt of her head. "Tanno decided to reveal his hidden culinary talent."

"It would have been better with Bantha meat," grunted the huge Weequay. "This dried stuff in the ration packs is probably wamp rat scraps."

"Oh probably." Elara grinned at him. "Still better than monkey-lizard, though." Tanno made a retching sound.

"Thanks." Jorgan helped himself to a bowl of the mixture of meat, grains and broth. It turned out to be surprisingly good, and certainly better than the field rations they ate while on assignments. Though most things were better than eating those compact nutrient bars for the thousandth time.

He took a seat with the rest. The crew chatted idly as they ate. None of them spoke about the events that had taken place only hours earlier. It was an unspoken rule on their ship that you didn't talk shop at the dinner table. Meal time was a safe haven from the danger and stress of the rest of their work.

When they were done and the dishes cleared, Yuun excused himself for his daily meditation. By now they had all become accustomed to the odd habits of the Gand. Jorgan had even joined him in meditation occasionally. Elara left the mess soon after, bidding them good night. Tanno got up to leave, pausing briefly before he passed through the doorway.

"A bit left, if the boss wants some." His thumb indicated the pot on the stove top. None of the crew had ever admitted out loud that they knew about the relationship between their CO and Jorgan, but they had accepted the new arrangements with ease. And they all knew that anything they said to Jorgan would make its way to the Major. I know you'll see her later, so maybe some food will cheer her up, was what the Weequay's words really meant. Jorgan nodded a silent thanks, and Tanno left.

Jorgan decided to find out if his brilliant and beautiful commander was ready to talk yet. He filled a bowl with stew and headed up to the bridge. He padded quietly up the stairs.

Finnara was sitting in the pilot's seat, her knees hugged to her chest, staring straight ahead of her. She didn't appear to have heard him come in behind her. He stepped up beside her.

"Finnara?" She turned at his voice. She still had that blank look in her eyes. He offered the bowl in his hands. "Tanno made dinner, believe it or not."

She stared at the food for a moment, then seemed to process what she was seeing, and finally took it from him. "Thanks."

Jorgan plopped himself into the co-pilot's seat. "Don't tell him I said it, but he's a better cook than I am."

"Ha." She tasted the food and gave a murmur of appreciation. After a few bites she looked over at him again. "I don't think I've ever had your cooking."

"Not sure you want to. A lifetime of field rations hasn't provided much practice."

She looked thoughtful. He was relieved to see any expression at all on her.

"I can do chili," she said. After another bite, "my dad taught me."

Surprised to hear her speak about her family, Jorgan didn't respond immediately. He was pretty sure this was the first time she had even acknowledged she had a family. Come to think of it, she had never spoken about anything in her life before the academy.

He finally decided that his curiosity could wait. "I like chili. How about you cook it for me sometime. When we get a chance to take some leave."

Finnara looked up from her bowl. "Yeah… I'd like that." She sighed. "Though I don't know when we'll have time for leave next."

He didn't know either. He didn't even know if they would survive until their next chance to take time off. It was something they accepted every day, as soldiers of the Republic. But it never got any easier.

Looking across at the woman before him, he saw her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Feeling protective, he got up and went to her, setting aside her bowl. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. She gave a choked sob and buried her head in his shoulder, the tears falling at last for the friend she had lost.

Jorgan held her until the tears subsided. In that moment he found himself wanting nothing more than to take care of this beautiful, strong woman for as long as he could. He kissed the top of her head before he led her gently down the stairs and to bed. She was asleep as her head hit the pillow. He switched off the lights and tucked himself in next to her. As he fell asleep it occurred to him that he never wanted to sleep alone again. He tried to sort out that thought, but sleep closed in before he figured it out.

Disclaimer: Characters and world belong to the creators of SWTOR.