Week 8 - 5/25/09 - UDC 4


36. A Little Bit of This


She was reading a datapad when hands covered her eyes and a welcome voice whispered in her ear. "Guess who."

Smiling, she leaned into him and set the datapad down. "I don't have to. I know."

"For me?"

"Wes..."

"Yes?"

"It's good to have you home," Roganda sincerely told him as he removed his hands from her eyes and she turned to look at him. "Missed you."

He grinned. "I missed you, too."

"Prove it," she teased him playfully.

"Make you dinner?" At her raised eyebrow, Wes snorted. "Or something else..." Roganda had no complaints when he bent and kissed her soundly on the lips.


37. Anything But That


Whatever he had expected her to tell him, it hadn't been that. Most definitely not that. "Are you sure?" At her frown, he nodded. "Right, of course you're sure. I just thought..."

Roganda sighed. "You thought that because I didn't want to discuss the issue of children that I didn't want one?"

"Well... yes."

"Not the case. It's painful to think about, but I'm not against it."

Wes frowned at her wording. They never talked about where their relationship was going, especially children. He'd wanted to, but after her reaction to certain things during the height of the war, he had thought the better of it.


38. Not For Nothing


Seeing her baby girl for the first time was at once painful, cathartic, and a healing experience. She had felt her son have a seizure in the operating room and then the building had collapsed... From that moment to now, it felt like she'd lived an entirely different lifetime. Different, where right and wrong had been flipped like day and night, and where the regime once held sacred had turned into that which was worthy of despise.

As she caressed her daughter's cheek, Roganda smiled. An entirely different lifetime, but definitely not for nothing.


39. Everything Else


The only prank he ever played on her involved bootlaces. She'd gone to sleep in an empty bunk in his quarters, and the next morning, her bootlaces were unlaced, sitting next to her boots... and multicolored where they'd been standard issue green. She'd spent five minutes staring at them when he had walked in, saw her dubious expression, and burst into laughter.

Roganda remembered shrugging, relacing the boots, and fixing him with a stare that could have melted dried and cooled lava. "You done?"

Noting her expression, he immediately stopped laughing. "Yes."

"Good." She kept the bootlaces.


40. What Matters Most


She stared up into the blue sky, searching for something. Someone. It had been months, a year even, since she had allowed herself to reach out through the Force. The risks had been too great to both the people whose company she had been keeping, and to herself. But now... with the danger gone, she couldn't help it. She had to know. Was he safe out there?

Just at the edge of her perception, she felt him and Roganda sighed in relief. Whatever else had happened today, light triumphing over darkness... it almost didn't matter. He was fine, and that was enough.