There was a comfort in routine, I thought. All thoughts of her were expunged when we'd landed back on Dromuund Kass, and I was strangely grateful for the reprieve. I was tasked with military duties, and that took me away from the hangar and that ship and her. That had helped me in the last few weeks to clear my head a little bit. The atmosphere around her had become stifling for all the wrong reasons, and I hadn't known what to do or how to handle it.

It was a week after we'd left the hospital when Zaya exploded at me. I'd lost my temper – stupid idiot – and asked her why she was so upset with me all the time, what I'd done wrong. No, it was more than a loss of temper. It was…desperate, depraved sincerity at its finest, rearing its head as I struggled to find my way back to her side of the fence. After that first day at the hospital, she'd done nothing but make sure that I was strictly outside of her fence – no, worse, outside looking in. I'd yelled at her desperately – but also angrily, which probably confused the hell out of her.

I recognized that look in her eyes. She was so overwhelmed she could do nothing but rave and snap and lash out. It made sense.

But my tolerance of it had ended, and I couldn't help myself. I too had snapped.

Bad move.

She'd thrown things at me, shrieked like a lunatic. She grabbed me by the arm and marched me out of the ship entirely, out into the hangar, throwing my uniform out at me as my ass hit the durasteel floor. Of course, this was humiliating. I was an Imperial officer on my own turf, and she had singlehandedly succeeded in emasculating me completely in front of everybody in front of whom I knew I needed to look tough.

I was very, very angry with her. I'd done nothing but think of her since we'd met, try to do right by her. I tried to be loyal to her, but then again, I was beginning to see that I wasn't quite sure what loyalty was or how it worked. This realization hit me on the same night she kicked me out, and I found myself tonguing the bottom of too many glasses of Tarisian ale to forget it.

The stale taste of a bad hangover clung to my mouth the next day, and all the days after it, which was all very inconvenient because by the time I realized that it was usually about seventeen minutes or some odd number of minutes before I had to report for duty. Getting up was getting increasingly harder to do on time, and the minutes before my duties shorter and shorter. Each day, I'd swear up and down my hotel room, wishing I was back in the comfort of our ship, knowing that I wouldn't go back out of pride.

Because it wasn't really our ship anymore. It was her ship, and I was just staying there.

Somewhat begrudgingly though, I did check my military status on the holonet. Each and every day that I wasn't aboard her ship, I was surprised because each and every day I checked I was still a Captain. She had not superseded anyone's authority and ruined my career. That was good, at least. I had not expected her to be petty, but I knew better than anyone how volatile she was right now.

But I was still angry with her.

Or so I told myself.

As days passed, my conviction waned considerably until I was absolutely sure that any moment I would drop everything that I was doing, march over to her ship – no longer our ship, but her ship – and offer her a piece of my mind, consequences be damned. Blast it all, I was so angry that she hadn't come groveling to me that I wanted to hit her. Or slam her against a wall and kiss her until we were both on the verge of falling to the floor due to oxygen deprivation.

And these two options were confusing, at best. I wanted to be determined, but how could I be when thoughts of her trickled into my consciousness at least once every few minutes?

This was when I began to rationalize it away. I wasn't entirely wrong. I'd just lost my temper. That's all.

When the second week came around and Vette came looking for me, I was still all indignation and rage and disdain, especially when Vette came to approach me out in public. In my military base, no less. The audacity of that now eighteen year old – she'd had a birthday in my absence, which felt mildly unpleasant in my stomach – girl flaunting about her invincibility just by showing up at a military base uninvited enraged me more than it probably should have.

"What, Vette?" I found myself nearly shouting as I dismissed my men, probably a little bit too forcefully.

The sound of my voice, harsh and raw from shouting at them, caused them to scatter.

But Vette had been standing there for nearly an hour, and I could no longer reasonably ignore her, especially if people would start to think that she was here on behalf of her master, which she probably was. I marched over to her, shaking my head exasperatedly, yanking her by her arm as I dragged her by my side and out the door of the hangar. My strides were easily twice hers – she was so short – and she kind of half-grunted as I began to berate her loudly in front of everybody.

This was probably unnecessary, but I had to save face, anyway.

I was sure that people were whispering behind my back about the hangar incident.

"What the hell do you want?" I was shouting at Vette as my military boots thudded methodically against the metal beneath my feet. "I'm tired and I'm busy! You can't just show up uninvited to a military installation like this! It's obscene! This is my job! Do you get that?"

Finally, breathlessly, we reached the mess hall. It wasn't peak hours and the installation at this outpost was very small. There were two soldiers in there, not in uniform, which was against regulation, and they perked up at my approach apprehensively. There must have been some crazy look in my eye because when I did nothing but snap with my fingers, pointing angrily at the door, they stood up and departed immediately.

When we were alone, I flipped Vette back to face me. She looked at me with some indiscernible expression that I couldn't quite place, but I didn't care. I was so angry, and seeing her made me think of Zaya.

And I was just so tired of thinking of Zaya! So tired that tears actually came to my eyes, and I was grateful that I was a man and that she was just a girl and not anybody else who would use my weakness against me. I was able to will them down, even if the vacillations in my voice couldn't be hidden as easily.

"Come to grovel on behalf of your master?" I bellowed, my voice echoing harshly against the metallic walls. "Come to mock the Captain who didn't do his duty? Because that's all well and good! That's just great! Make me look like more of an ass than I already do! Thanks, Vette! Really, I mean, thanks so much!"

Vette, much to my surprise, didn't rise to the challenge. Instead, she looked hurt, and her dark eyes filled with nearly brimmed tears. But it wasn't just hurt. Or maybe it wasn't hurt at all.

Maybe it was something I'd never seen or registered or allowed, so I didn't recognize it.

Maybe it was pity.

Once again, and for the second time in all the time I'd known her, the realization that I really actually liked Vette hit me hard, and an overwhelming sense of paternal and brotherly love caused me to turn away to stop raging at her.

But somehow this made it harder.

Because I hadn't slept in what felt like weeks. It was the end of a very long day, and I was tired. I was tired of drinking at cantinas, tired of shouting at recruits. I was tired of doing anything just to keep from thinking of her, of drinking over Zaya, that I almost wished I'd never met her.

This kind of infatuation was foreign and totally unhealthy.

And she hated me.

She hated me!

The thought was unbearable, and I put my hands into my scalp and squeezed, wishing I hadn't started to think about that kind of thing.

Because it just made me want to go disappear somewhere.

"Quinn…" Vette whispered behind me.

I felt a small hand come in contact with my shoulder, a small, girlish green hand. My fingers reached for it instinctively, and some unspoken agreement passed between us as her warmth tingled against the tips of my fingers. It was okay if I was upset, her fingers said.

But I wouldn't. I couldn't. That really would be obscene.

But her hand, that little green hand…

"Why don't we go get a drink, Mal?" she asked me, coming around to face me.

"…tired of drinking," I managed, turning my face away from hers, sure she could see my turmoil.

"Aw, come on, Captain Grumpypants! It's always better to drink with a buddy."

"You and I are not buddies!"

"Sure we are!" Vette said amiably, as if I hadn't just shouted down her throat.

And, before I could resist, she and I were in some seedy bar. I found myself "coming-to" in a sense when I looked around and realized that I had a drink in front of me, that Vette was sitting across from me in a small booth, and that she was eyeing me with an expression that looked awfully like Jaesa's.

"Why are you here, Vette?" I asked her with a bad attempt at spitefulness.

"I wanted to see if you were okay," she replied without a hint of hesitation, bringing her drink, which she'd likely purchased with illegitimate identification, to her lips with a smirk.

"Why would you care?"

"Because you live with us. You're part of our family."

I snorted bitterly.

"I was. It's been thirteen days since I've slept in that bucket of bolts, and I don't plan on going back any time soon. So don't bother groveling on behalf of your master."

Once again, Vette surprised me.

She made an irritated "pf" kind of noise that I heard Zaya making so much.

"As if Zee is my master, Mal, come on. For real. You and I both know that she's a big old softy."

Vette shrugged dismissively.

"We only pretend at that master stuff so people don't take me away," Vette explained casually. "Besides, I'm not here for her. I really just wanted to see if you're okay."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at her.

"Why?"

She leaned forward over her glass of ale with mock suspicion, smiling with a hint of exasperation. She looked at me for a few more moments silently before asking,

"Are we really gonna do this all night? I just told you, dummy! I'm worried about you!"

Her eyes wandered all over my face.

"Have you lost weight?"

I made some non-committal noise.

"Are you sleeping?"

This time, I had to turn to look at her, a little guiltily.

"Neither is she," Vette said nonchalantly.

This made a knot in my stomach tighten, and I hated that I could still be so upset about a woman who'd practically disowned me.

"She's going to go see Baras for the first time pretty soon," Vette also offered casually.

Again, the tightening of the knot, but again, I said nothing. Just took a long, thick swig of my alcohol.

Vette didn't comment. She seemed to sense that I was putting up a front, and I was incomprehensibly relieved that she wasn't calling me on it.

"Why were you worried?" I asked her again.

She sighed.

"Seriously, is it so hard to believe that I'd come to check on you?"

"I'm not nice to you, Vette," I said seriously. "I make a point to bully you."

"Aw, but you and I both know you're just as big of a softy as she is."

Vette leaned forward conspiratorially and glanced around.

"But I know that's a big secret, so I'm just gonna…"

Vette drew her hand across her lip, as if closing a zipper, and she threw the imaginary key over her shoulder.

The action made me smile, the first in weeks.

"There you go!" Vette said, smirking. "See? Before you know it, you'll be barking orders and I'll be giving you attitude in no time!"

I was overwhelmed, suddenly, by a variety of sensations. The first, I'd drank too much too quickly. Vette had ordered me a large, strong drink, and I'd made my way through it too fast. The second, I was so grateful to her that I thought that I might die. She was showing me a world of kindness that I'd never once offered back to her.

This was grace.

I was learning it for the first time from some street rat kid.

A moment of intense clarity permeated my usually impenetrable bubble of stubbornness, and I felt like there were such things as random acts of charity and kindness, that there was an existence outside of the meager career I'd set up for myself. There were other things that were important besides surviving – and that was what my career meant to me.

I was so verbally obsessed with it when I spoke of it to others because it was my way of apologizing for the manner in which I had to survive.

Vette had none of these issues. She knew this was messed up – and yet she forgave me still. Tolerated me. Had come to check on me.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out.

I guessed I did probably because of sensation number one.

Vette just made a swishing motion with her hand.

"Eh, whatever, Mal, I forgive you. Don't need to apologize."

"What?" I asked, blinking uncomprehendingly. "Why?"

"Well…" She thought about it, as if it was something she needed to process, like the thought of explaining it hadn't even occurred to her. "I guess it's because you've taken care of us a few times. You saved my life on Alderaan, and you made sure Baras didn't follow us to that Republic hospital. I mean, you're not the greatest at figuring things out – and your timing is awful, are you serious? – but you try, and that counts, I think."

I just looked at her.

"It isn't enough though," I finally admitted disconsolately into my drink. "She doesn't want me there. And I'm…"

I sighed.

"I'm tired of thinking about her."

"Why don't you just kiss her or something and get it over with? Or, you know, something else – but if you do that I absolutely and totally don't want to hear about it!"

Her green skin flushed a darker shade as she waved her hand away again, and the motion was so endearing that it took me a moment to feign shock and disbelief – which I did immediately afterwards, despite the palpitations of my heart in my chest.

"What?" I asked, scoffing a little too exaggeratedly. "Vette, come on! Seriously! Be serious. She is –"

"—a smart, funny, capable, beautiful woman, who you have been in love with since you got to know her two years ago. We've been together for almost two years, Quinn! Seriously? What's the deal, here?"

I opened my mouth several times before closing it again. Then, before I could say anything else, I knew I should at least be safe.

"I've drank too much, Vette, and I believe you are trying to take advantage of me."

"Oh, I would never!" Vette said, smiling mischievously.

But, to her credit, she stood up and waved at me.

"That's okay though," she said. "Here, I'll walk you home. Where's home, Mal?"

I felt a little pathetic, but I just kind of shrugged, and Vette rolled her eyes.

"You both are such babies!" she said, taking my hand and leading me out into the street.

She went onto her datapad and before I knew it we were in a nicer hotel than the one I'd been affording myself. She led me into a bed, and I didn't even stop to think that the people around us were likely assuming that she was a prostitute and that I was paying her, didn't stop to care that she was sticking out in a sea of humanity, didn't stop to glance around that she was babbling away with a very thick Republic accent.

I just followed her bidding, eagerly plopping onto the nearest bed.

She sat beside me, and I felt so lonely, suddenly. It was a hole inside of me, and I thought of what Vette had said.

I wanted to kiss Za'wil. That was all I wanted to do, day and night, in and out, I wanted to kiss her. I wondered what it was like to possess her, wondered how she felt at the point of no return when she writhed beneath me, her warm center all around me as I ached somewhere indefinable between my stomach and groin at her moans. It was my best, favorite recurring dream.

Even…"managing" that sensation in the mornings and nights, even pretending my explosive feelings were really coming from her and not my own fantasies (and I'd given up months ago fighting that losing battle to fantasize about her) did nothing to abate the desire that was so welled up inside of me that I thought I would die.

I thought I would choke with wanting, and alcohol didn't help. I needed something, some kind of release, and all of a sudden, Vette was there.

She was there, and I was pressing her against my chest, my hands wandering languidly down her spine. My eyes were closed, and I could pretend it was Zaya.

Vette knew the motion immediately, but she wasn't unkind. She knew I was drunk.

"I should go," she offered nebulously.

"I need this, Vette," I confided in her pathetically. "Please."

I didn't need to tell her what "this" was. It was obvious to us both.

"You're not attracted to me, Quinn," Vette said, sounding almost completely unfazed.

"I know, but I –"

"You don't want me. I'm...like a kid. And you're old."

"I know, but I need…something. Could you at least…stay next to me? Talk to me a little longer?"

That bugged me, how small I sounded, and I only closed my eyes, pretended it was Zaya. I pressed my face against the top of her head, but this was a dead giveaway. Zaya had hair. Vette did not. It only made me cling to Vette harder, wrap my arms more firmly around her.

"I'm not her, Quinn," Vette said firmly, putting her hands roughly to my chest.

And that hit me.

Very, very hard.

She pushed and separated the two of us, and I saw dim anger in her eyes fade into that indiscernible tearful thing I'd seen back in the mess hall. I felt winded and disgusting and nauseous, and before I knew it I leaned over the other side of the bed and vomited into a trash receptacle.

I felt Vette's hand stroke my hair as I sat back up, as tears finally gave way into something I didn't quite know, as she tucked me into her shoulder and she just clung to me dependably, shushing me despite the fact that I wasn't making any noise at all.

I didn't need to make noise to feel so pitiful.

"I'm sorry," I finally managed. "I wanted you to...I didn't want to...do anything bad, I just need..."

"I know, Quinn," Vette said.

"I'm so sorry," I said, louder this time.

She pulled away for just a second to smile at me so platonically I felt a wave of relief that my stupidity had not stirred up some other feelings I'd never hoped were there.

"Don't worry," Vette said. "I forgive you. I know where you are."

"I just…"

I faded into nothingness. It was all I could do to keep from breaking down until I couldn't stop it anymore. Before I knew it, I was weeping silently into Vette's shoulder, wondering how and why I'd gotten to this place in this time and grasping desolately at all the things that had slipped through my fingers.

But, after a while, this ache subsided. Thoughts of pain and thoughts of weight and thoughts of feeling lonely went away in favor of something warm and pleasant that started at the base of my spine and only grew upwards when I addressed it with my consciousness.

As I fell asleep, the two of us just laying together, I felt a deep wonder if this was what it was like to have a sibling, to have someone who would stick by you, even when you were so dumb you hated to think about it.

I would probably feel like a total idiot tomorrow.

But it didn't matter.

Because, even if Zaya didn't care about me, somebody did. And even if it wasn't who I wanted, it was somebody, and that mattered. And it was enough.