"Master Jedi!"

Elara Dorne called to her from across the hall; Aitahea had just closed the door of her suite, ready to meet Hallam Organa. Finally, she could find Master Sidonie, heal her, and end this plague once and for all. The exquisite gown had been carefully packed away and was en route to the Luminous with the rest of her belongings. She'd donned her carefully cleaned and mended robes this morning with a trace of sadness, a chill that faded once warmly wrapped in the familiar clothes.

"Sergeant, good morning," Aitahea said, slipping into her kindest smile; it wasn't hard in the presence of the buoyant former Imperial.

"Are you well after last's nights events? I've never seen anything like that, the dancing, the music!" Aitahea nodded, and the woman beamed brightly. "The Lieutenant hasn't smiled that much since I've known him, though it's only been since Taris, which isn't long at all." She seemed suddenly embarrassed of her ramble, raising her hands to her lips to hide a giggle.

Aitahea couldn't help laughing, but a spike of jealousy needled through the shared delight when she realized how little time that meant she herself had known him. Months had passed since Taris, but unlike his crew members, Aitahea's sliver of his time was infinitesimal, scattered across the galaxy.

"And you! You looked like a princess." Elara's smile went a bit wistful. "Like you belong here."

Aitahea ducked into the shadow of her hood, flattered and pleased, but haunted by the sergeant's words. She felt an uncertainty, a jarring dissonance like she'd felt in the last few moments of the dance when the steps had begun unwinding before her, and then she'd falled, once again, into Erithon's arms. Aitahea knew she certainly didn't look like she belonged here, not muted layers of robes, hair back in efficient plaits, and weapon at her side. She wasn't certain quite where she belonged.

"That's kind of you, sergeant. Forgive me for the short farewell, but I'm expected in the diplomacy wing. Please take care."

"Of course. May the Force be with you, Master Jedi."

It would be the grand stairs they'd meet on again, Erithon noted with wry amusement when he spotted the Jedi ascending. Like him, she was back in what passed for a uniform, but very unlike him, she remained as remarkable in earthtones and lightsaber at her side as she'd been in gossamer and flowers and starlight.

Last night had gone so well, until it hadn't. He'd let things go too far, too fast, and he'd deserved to have her put the brakes on like that. But… I never stopped, she'd whispered. Dreaming, of him. He hadn't known quite what to do with that information last night, and he hadn't figured out anything so far this morning either. He had a fellow in the detention center to meet; she'd likely be on the trail of her ill Jedi Master. Back to their assigned roles.

She still looked tired and pale, but her voice held a note of warmth that chased away the morning chill. "Good morning, Lieutenant."

He swallowed the ache that tightened in his chest when she used his rank, not his name. Names were for dancing and dark hallways, not now, not when they each had someone else to be. "Morning, Jedi. Ready to save the world again?"

"The summit is already underway." Aitahea exhaled a slow breath. "I only hope I'm not too late."

Erithon wanted nothing more desperately than to gather her up and hold her until that haunted look disappeared from her eyes. It had, for just a few moments last night, when they'd been dancing. When he'd held her and was certain that in his arms was exactly where she'd wanted to be.

While he struggled for words, Aitahea began to frown at him. Really, she was frowning at the new chest plate supplied by the quartermaster to replace the one he'd… lost. It didn't match the rest of his armor quite right, different paint batch or something, but at least it didn't have a huge lightsaber slash through it.

'Hey, I'm back in action too, see?' He thunked a fist against the mismatched armor and grinned. Her expression softened after a lengthy moment, melting away like snow in sunlight to reveal a small but bright smile. That did chase the shadows away, for a moment at least.

"Erithon," she began, and everything he'd wanted to hear was in his name as it left her lips. Then she paused, considering; she still smiled, thoughtful, but a sudden distance stretched between them. "Thank you for rescuing me." She stared hard at the new chestplate again, then raised her hand and touched her fingertips to the mismatched composite. "May the Force be with you, Lieutenant."

"You too," he echoed, a little mystified. He could have sworn he felt her fingertips against his own skin again, touching the vague discoloration that belied the life-ending wound. The wound she'd healed, and here she was, thanking him for her rescue? He started to add something, but she bowed low to him, and before her face disappeared in the shadow of her hood, eyes that seemed just a little too bright. And then she was disappearing around the corner, just a swish of robes and the scent of white flowers.

Duke Charle Organa wandered up, watching as Aitahea disappeared, humming pleasantly to himself. "Last time I saw that kind of longing on your Jedi's face was when we put her on the ship to Tython." Erithon startled when Organa said your. The Duke mused at the suddenly flushed trooper. "No one ever wanted to both stay and go as much as that girl did."

Erithon swallowed hard and nodded. He was pretty sure he felt that, too.

"Duty is a privilege and a burden, I can safely tell you, Lieutenant." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Master Aitahea knows that perhaps less well than she assumes."

"Folks who work that hard – in particular for the benefit of other people - do it for a lot of reasons, Your Grace. That's part of her code, isn't it?"

"It is indeed, Lieutenant. It is indeed. But what about her?"

Erithon pulled a face. "Sir?" Organa gave him an expectant look, so he added hesitantly, "I'm not sure I'm in a position to speculate there, especially about Aita – about Master Daviin." He grimaced as he stumbled over her title. Organa's smile grew satisfied.

"Best intentions are all well and good, Lieutenant, but time will slip away before you know it." The Duke drew up smartly, giving Erithon a sideways glance before he turned away. "You have appointments this morning, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir," Erithon said in reply. Organa was right, it was time he get to that meeting. He'd have to puzzle through the Duke's words later.

Best intentions, indeed.