Summary: Fynta isn't impressed by Cormac's new comfort drink, but she's willing to try something new.
Words: 983
Rated: T
This was inspired by a meme that dimigex sent me this morning and took on a life of its own. It's set between the end to Heart on a Trigger and the beginning of Blood in the Breeze (which I have started, fear not). It's also kind of proof that I'm not dead. Hope you enjoy!)
Odessen
Alliance Base
Few days drove Fynta to drink anymore. She'd accepted that her life was a steaming pile of bantha dung more than a year ago when they woke her up in a galaxy that no longer operated by rules she knew and told her to fix it. Today had been particularly hellish. She'd spent all morning in meetings where nothing was accomplished, lunched on cold rations while Kozen plotted out all the ways Fynta would have died if he'd been Arcann, then tossed into the cold mud by Vector during their sparring match. At least the Joiner had offered to help get the mud out of her hair.
When Fynta dragged herself home, it was to find a missed holo and a handwritten note that Aric would be out late doing field maneuvers with Aygo and the troops. That had spoiled her evening plans to blow off a little steam, leaving her edgy and frustrated.
Sighing, Fynta showered the grime from her body and set off for the one person in the galaxy she was sure could brighten her mood. Balic Cormac, all-around fantastic guy and Fynta's best friend, was still on medical leave. He'd found ways to be useful where welcome. Fynta checked all of the normal places first: the kitchen, creche, and even the mechanic's bay. Everyone claimed that she'd just missed him.
Balic's room, not much but all that he'd accept, was the last place Fynta tried. Naturally, that's where she found him. The door slid open to reveal the smile she'd been craving without knowledge. "Hey, boss. What brings you here?"
"Lousy day," Fynta responded without waiting for an invitation to enter. She flopped on the sofa with a huff. "Got anything to drink?"
"Sure, give me a second." Cormac made noise in the corner of the room where he'd set up a small field kitchen while Fynta surveyed his living area. It was a one room deal, bed shoved against the wall, crates stacked neatly to resemble a computer desk and chair, tattered sofa, and his makeshift kitchen. Fynta supposed it was better than living in the barracks, but wished that he'd let her give him more. Their arguments circled so many times that she'd given up. The only way Cormac would accept larger quarters was if his family joined them. As if Fynta needed more motivation to bring Elara and their son home.
Fynta's thoughts occupied her to the point of distraction until Cormac kicked her boot. "Damn, you are out of it. Want to talk?" He held out a mug of something steaming, and Fynta's stomach drew tight with anticipation. The last hot beverage someone had handed her packed a hell of a punch. Granted, that someone had been Kaliyo.
"Just life," Fynta replied, accepting the drink with a grateful nod. "I'm not cut out to run an army. You'd think they'd have figured it out by now."
"I think you're doing a good job," Cormac answered after settling his bulk next to her. His still braced leg stuck out at an odd angle while he tried to get comfortable. "So do the rest, if the mess hall chat is any indication."
Fynta huffed a laugh. "Poor shabuirs have no idea how much of this osik I make up on the fly." Her mouth watered at the spicy aroma wafting from her drink. It was a strong blend that held the promise of making all of her problems vanish under a warm haze.
Touching the mug to her lips, Fynta took a long pull, then promptly spit it back into her cup. "What the hell?" She gasped, glaring into the amber liquid that tasted nothing like alcohol. It was muddy water at best, with a strange aftertaste that coated her tongue.
Looking up, Fynta's narrowed eyes zeroed in on Cormac's grin. "What is this osik?"
"Tea," Cormac answered, sipping daintily. "It's better for you than booze."
Fynta snorted and plopped her glass onto the crate hard enough to slop it over the edge. If Lana had been there, she'd have scolded Fynta for pouting, but that didn't stop the commander from folding her arms and glaring at when she thought was her best friend. "You've changed. I don't like this new you." The old Cormac would have offered beer or better.
Hurt flashed behind Cormac's eyes before humor replaced it. Fynta silently cursed those careless words. Her memories had only returned a few months ago, and the sting of rejection still weighed on Cormac. She saw it in the way the big man look at her when he thought no one noticed.
Hoping to rekindle the light atmosphere, Fynta steered the conversation back to that thrice-damned drink. She lifted the mug to examine its contents. "Elara's doing?"
Cormac offered a nervous chuckle, hand rubbing the back of his neck when Fynta looked up. "I made a few poor coping choices after you went missing." She tried not to wince, but knew that she'd failed when he sighed. "Elara convinced me to drown my sorrows in another drink, and thus…" Cormac lifted the mug in salute, then took another sip.
With a resignation that Fynta had become far too familiar with, she cradled the mug between her hands. Chance was inevitable for everyone, even a little Mando who'd missed most of it. "Acquired taste, huh?" Cormac nodded, warm smile sliding back into place. Her nose wrinkled, but the edge found its way to her lips again. The second drink wasn't as bad, maybe because she knew what to expect. It still wasn't good, but the reflex to spit his brew out wasn't as strong.
Warmth wormed through Fynta's gut much the same way it did with alcohol, and she leaned back with a sigh. "I guess it's not so bad." A yawn pulled at the back of her jaw. "What else have you got to do around here?"
