Y'all. It has been a HOT. MINUTE. I meant to finish this in time for SWCC, but I got sick and then life got away from me. But... *delayed reaction* HOW ABOUT THAT IX TRAILER?! WHAT. IS. HAPPENING. PALPATINE!? LIERGUUSDIBLSUAGFLASUFDBJ And CLONE WARS?! FALLEN ORDER?! GALAXY'S FREAKING EDGE?! IT'S TOO MUCH TO HANDLE!

Oh, and I graduated. So there's that.

Thanks for being so patient and wonderful, as always! I hope all of you have been well and that you enjoy the update!

Chapter 4: D'Qar

Mila swam out of the mire of sleep, gripping at her pounding head. The other side of the bed was empty. She shivered and pulled the coverlet closer around her as she fumbled for the shirt—one of Poe's—that had been so hastily discarded the night before, when the night was still young and the nightmares were lightyears away. The softness comforted her weary body as she pulled it over her shoulders and stood. She stared out the window.

What she wouldn't give for her bare feet to touch grass, for her lungs to breathe in non-recycled air, to see something other than the expanse of space….

Her time on the Echo of Hope had been hell. Maybe, once she was planetside, she'd start to hea—

No.

It was too much to ask.

A tired frown warping her face, Mila pulled her fatigues on, her puffy eyes catching on the band wrapped around her left arm in the mirror. Her fingers traced the medic's symbol; it glared against the pristine white like blood seeping through a clean bandage. Once Mila had been proud to wear it.

Her fingers picked and tugged at it, begging her to let them roll it off.

She scanned her own face. Sunken and swollen, hazel eyes lightless; lips a bit chapped, hair thinner than it was. Worry lines scarred her face. She dropped her gaze to the floor.

Could she keep doing this?

The door opened behind her, but Mila couldn't turn to face it.

"Morning, sweetheart."

Poe'd learned early on that sneaking up on her was a terrible idea, so he always announced himself, even if Mila could see him coming. The corners of her mouth rose a bit. Her thoughts trapped her in a cell with no windows, no doors. Some days, Poe could pick the locks. Even now he whittled away at them.

"Learn anything?" she asked.

Poe nodded. To Mila's chagrin, the worry in his eyes hadn't lessened as he wandered across the room. His back was to her while he searched the top of the white cabin table in front of him.

"It's bad, Mila."

Bad? How bad? Mila swallowed. "Is that all you can tell me?"

"For now, yeah." Poe's tired voice hadn't released any of its tension—his head clearly still spun with whatever he'd been told—but his eyes twinkled as he held her data pad out to her. Its notification light blinked bright green.

"Definitely check that," he said.

"Now?"

"Now."

Mila's brow furrowed as she took the datapad from him and powered it up. The familiar weight of Poe's arm settled around her shoulders as she opened the new message and started to read:

Captain Mila Dameron: Transfer Notice.

Mila's breath caught in her throat.

Was… was this…?

Report to Resistance Headquarters on D'Qar at 16:00—

Heat rushed through Mila's body. Her face flushed. Her tongue stumbled to form the words that the rest of her had trouble believing:

"I'm… I'm going to—"

"We're, Mila." Poe's arm tightened around her shoulders. "I got the same orders. You know what that means?"

Relief sent tears streaming down Mila's face. A few renegades splotched her datapad screen as she read on. Three more days—only three!—of stale, recycled air, of bright cruiser lights and walls that caved in around her like the sides of a trash compactor, maybe even of bodies and blood that screamed and splattered one second and were gone the next—

"It's over."

Mila smiled. Laughed. Cried.

"It's finally over."

Mila had almost all of her things packed before midday ship's time the day she received her new orders. She didn't even treat with saying goodbye to the Echo of Hope as she, for the last time, wound through its blinding hallways. Her heart hammered in her chest. Since Rattatak, it was rare that it didn't. The voice in her head almost always urged her to run from nothing; even now, her shoulders balled like the point of a knife had been pressed between them. But the sensation ebbed slightly with the chilly recycled air that pushed against her skin as the hangar blast doors hissed open. She stepped inside.

There was her transport—a custom Resistance craft several bored techs had sewn together from an Alliance-era B-wing and a Clone Wars-era Montura-class shuttle. The same ship that had brought her onto the Echo and into the Resistance four months earlier.

Beyond it, through the wobbling ray shields that separated the hangar from space, glowed D'Qar.

Heat sprouted from Mila's tired arm as she hoisted her duffel higher onto her shoulder and pressed on. The transport's fighter escort—three T-70 X-wings that Mila could recognize the instant they broke atmosphere—had already began their takeoff sequence. The warm stench of fuel blasted up her nose; where the quad engines glowed, the air rippled with the heat they let off. When she finally ducked into the transport and set her duffel down, her ears rang from their familiar shriek.

Others came on board, but Mila hardly noticed them. She kept her eyes fixed on the system in front of her, watching the asteroids that surrounded it roll by, little more than pebbles at this distance. They would come in handy, should they ever be found and attacked. From what Poe had told her, TIE fighters were nimble and hard to hit, but one well-placed shot usually did the trick. An asteroid the size of the fighter would probably do it, too. Anything at all to slow the First Order down. Even with their numbers growing every day, they didn't have the manpower to stop them now. If they were found, they'd—

Stop.

We're not going to be found.

Mila hadn't heard the transport's doors shut, but the smell of fuel cycled out of the sitting area, replaced by cold, manufactured oxygen. The floor vibrated as the engines came online. Next thing she knew, they were floating, flanked by two silver X-wings—Karé and Iolo's—and led out by Poe. Had it not been for the bright magenta orbs glowing on the back of his fighter, its black sides would have blended in with the debris ahead, a little more than a shadow. Mila kept her eyes on it.

D'Qar grew in front of them, so much so that it took up the entirety of Mila's window. Asteroids and less-natural satellites paraded around the planet's atmosphere, trapped in its gravitational pull, forming a ring that encircled it like a crown. A patchwork of deep greens spoke of forests, the shimmering threads between them of winding rivers.

It should be beautiful. Mila hoped it was.

They wove between rocks and hunks of space debris, the first grey lights of a cloudy day pouring in through the windows when they broke atmosphere. Mila squinted as her eyes adjusted. She knew now why Leia had chosen it. In addition to being well out of the way of any major trade routes, D'Qar appeared uninhabited. There were no immediate signs of intelligent life, at least none that was terribly advanced. The tangle of tree limbs and brambles and moss rolled on and on in an endless sea of green.

Somewhere under all of it was their base.

The trees shortened, the thickets thinned to a clearing. Permacrete crawled out from beneath the shroud of a large mound—some kind of building that had since crumbled into ruin, that the forest had mostly claimed. Control towers poked out just above the trees. Whatever buildings were somewhat visible were painted green and brown, their roofs dripping with moss and wound with ivy. Two X-wings sat parked on the permacrete, and a third's nose stuck out from the shadow of the mound erected overtop it. A little more than ants, techs and pilots scurried in and out of the hangar—that was what it was, Mila realized—sparing a few passing glances upwards to pair an object with the rumbling overhead.

The comms towers hailed them, and they began their descent. Mila wondered if this was how the Rebels of Yavin IV had felt all those years ago. Had their heads spun at the sight of their mission becoming so real?

Mila was on her feet before the gangplank dropped, but as soon as it did, everyone surged past her. She couldn't move.

This was no Hosnian Prime.

Morning mist glittered in the trees above her. The sun glowed palely through the light cloud cover overhead. Humidity stuck at her face. In the distance, the clouds darkened; long tails of grey sprouted from their undersides and stretched downward to the receiving ground—rain, which would be here within the next hour. Its sweet smell drifted on the wind. Birds sang in the forest beyond. All of a sudden, after the long, dark months of noticing none of it, Mila's world had color.

Even the people seemed different. Those who had time to notice the new arrivals as they spilled out across the permacrete smiled and greeted the complete strangers like they had known them all their lives. Everyone went everywhere with light in their steps and in their eyes—with a purpose. She couldn't explain why, but tears sprang to her eyes.

"Hey doc?" The voice—Poe's voice—broke through her trance. He stood at the bottom of the gangplank, his helmet perched on one hip and his opposite hand held out to her. Karé and Iolo waited behind; BB-8 stared up at her from behind Poe's leg. "You coming?"

Mila nodded, but she didn't move.

"It's so quiet."

She noticed something else about these people, and it gripped her hard. It wafted from the hangar and out across the permacrete; it floated on the air like the mist that sat in the trees. Mila, for the first time in she didn't know how long, found it slipping into her heart.

Hope.

Her throat warmed and closed. Though her eyes were still wet—her vision had only blurred further the longer she stood on the gangplank, her senses springing back to life—she started to smile.

"I could heal here."

It was almost as if she hadn't heard herself, like her tongue had rattled off the words before her brain could stop it. But she believed them.

For the first time since that long night on Rattatak, she believed them.

Poe smiled at her as she took his hand, her feet no longer creaking across durasteel, but grinding on permacrete—touching solid ground for the first time since she'd joined the Resistance. Karé and Iolo soon flanked them. Sparks flashed from the shadow of the hangar as they approached, bouncing from the open circuitry of the half of the X-wing Mila couldn't see from the air.

The tech—a deep-skinned girl with lively black curls—stopped whatever she was doing and raised her protective goggles from her eyes, squinting at them. She rapped the arm of the pilot she'd been helping, thrust a finger in their direction, and the man fell silent. Little by little, the activity in the hangar died down, like a wave had passed over the techs and the pilots and the droids alike. Mila's eyes darted between them. They welled up inside her, the feelings that she thought only moments before she could escape. Her heart thrashed in her chest.

The idea of talking to anyone she didn't know—no doubt they'd want to talk about that night—made her want to wrench away from the group and sprint to the tree line. Her conscience felt like it had risen from her body, like she was watching the whole thing from the roof.

With a hard sign, Mila yanked herself down before she could lose all control. Focus. Focus on something. Anything. Like… how her fingers stretched around Poe's, the warmth, the softness of his palm against hers. The rhythm of their footsteps. Karé and Iolo's shadows chasing theirs across the pavement.

A thousand gazes crashed down on Mila. She forced her eyes to Poe's face.

"They better be looking at you," she said.

Whispers bounced off the rock walls:

"Is that—is that Poe Dameron?"

Maybe they were.

"When did they get here?"

They were.

"—Rapier Squadron! And…"

No one had noticed—

"—and Lieutenant Criss!"

So much for not noticing—

"—hear about Rattatak? She's a hero. They all are!"

Bile slithered up Mila's throat. The world floated again.

Hero.

She hated that word.

Maybe they meant well—they definitely meant well—but when people tacked that word onto her name, Mila squirmed. Every time. Those who she hadn't saved—the kids who fell to the flametroopers before she and her platoon could get to them, and Kit and Jaren. Even those next to her—her husband and his wing mates. Those who had lost almost everything and fought on anyway.

The Resistance wanted heroes? There were their heroes. Not here.

Not her.

She let her eyes wander ahead, past the crowd budding around them. At the edge of the hangar, one man leaned against his X-wing's ladder, talking with a soldier. His wiry hand wrung the metal as he spoke—a nervous habit? The soldier—a pretty girl with white-blonde hair and bright blue eyes—laughed at something he said. Mila caught a glimpse of the side of the pilot's face—fair, freckled, and splotched with pink.

With her father's nose, and her mother's eyes.

That…that was—

Mila dropped Poe's hand. "Wait here a sec."

The people and their whispers didn't matter anymore. Her heart started to slow. With every step she took towards the boy, she inched back into herself. A clammy hand brushed durasteel as she ducked under one of his X-wing's s-foils.

The last time she'd stood behind him, she'd lost him in a crowd, and he'd charged towards his destiny, A part of her had feared she'd never get to tell him how proud she was of him. That she'd never see him again.

But here he was.

He waved to the girl he'd been talking to—something was familiar about her, too—and watched her disappear into the shadows. She'd never seen him smile like that.

"Looks like we've got some catching up to do, huh?"

The moment Calo Criss turned around, he burst into tears. Mila's heart exploded.

"C'mere, buddy."

Calo's hug squeezed the air out of Mila's lungs. She laughed as she held him—laughed and cried.

"You made it! You're really here!"

Mila rubbed her baby brother's back. "In the flesh."

"I was worried sick about you!"

Did he know?

He had to have suspected something, but now wasn't the time to dwell on that. Mila pulled him closer.

"Right back atcha, buddy."

Calo's shaking hands landed on Mila's shoulders. "How… how've you been? How's home and everybody? Did you come by yourself? Did you bring anybody with—Poe!"

Poe's laughter rang in Mila's ears before she turned around to see him catching Calo in a bone-crushing hug. Karé and Iolo were just as enthusiastic. Mila smiled wide enough that her cheeks cramped as she came up alongside them.

"So…" Still a bit flustered, Calo glanced between the four of them. "Anything new?"

"I don't know, Mil." Poe folded his arms across his chest and cocked an eyebrow at Mila. The smile on his face brightened. "Is there?"

Mila lifted her left hand next to her face, wagging her fourth finger at her brother. Even under the dim hangar lights, her rings sparkled.

She laughed as Calo's head whipped back and forth between herself and her husband, and it only grew louder when he threw his arms around both of them at once.

"You've always been family, Commander." Calo's voice caught on the words. "Thank the Force it's finally official."

"You know, I am your brother now, so you can call me Poe." Poe chuckled. "And while we're at it, this one—" he rubbed Mila's back "—got promoted, and so did those two." He motioned to Karé and Iolo. "Proud of all of them."

Someone from behind: "Not as proud as I am."

Mila recognized the voice instantly. Though she had already met General Organa once, her heart still flipped in her chest when she came up to the group.

"Welcome to D'Qar, Commander Dameron." She smiled at Mila. "Captain Dameron."

Calo gasped, which sent them all laughing again. Leia's face warmed.

"Congratulations to you both."

They thanked her simultaneously, but they both knew her presence meant more than just pleasantries. She had more for them.

"Calo—that is your name, isn't it?"

Calo clearly hadn't adjusted to having such a hero call him by his name, so he gaped at her for a moment before nodding a bit too enthusiastically. "Yes, ma'am."

"I'm taking your sister to the med center. You can show the rest of them around, can't you?"

Calo nodded. "Yes, ma'am. We'll go find the others." He turned to Poe as they filed out. "L'ulo's running a sector patrol, but I know Jess and Snap will be happy to see you."

"And you'll be happy to see Snap," Poe smirked, elbowing Karé between the ribs. "Won't you, Karé?"

Karé rolled her eyes and groaned.

Mila watched as they wandered closer to the permacrete, the sound of their conversation fading until—

"Oh! You're blushing!"

"I'm gonna kriffing kill you!"

"Hey, you tortured me when I first met Mila. You've had this coming!"

Mila's laughter blended with Leia's as she shook her head.

"You've certainly got your hands full with them, Captain." A matronly grin eased across Leia's face. "And I know you wouldn't have it any other way."

Mila smiled.

"Come with me, Captain. Your commanding officer is anxious to see you."

They wound through a labyrinth of winding hallways, hewn out of the same sandy rock that supported the hangar. The outside light diminished the farther in they went, tented emerald from the lights of the command center. Officers and lower-ranking soldiers alike greeted the general as she passed, and Mila heard her own name whispered by most of the people she passed. She tried to tune it out.

Mila squinted as she stepped into the Resistance's small medcenter. It was nowhere near as bright as the hospital back on Hosnian Prime, and nowhere close to those of the cruisers she'd worked on, but she had enough to see comfortably. Screens with vital signs and doctors' assignments glowed along the walls; the patients' rooms, which were almost completely vacant, vanished down a side hallway.

In the center of the room was a cluster of examination tables, a few medical droids, and a woman Mila hadn't seen in years. Had she changed as much as Mila had?

And what will she think if she finds out about—

"Harter?" Leia caught the woman's attention and smiled. "Your new arrival is here. I think you remember Captain Dameron."

Major Harter Kalonia's brow furrowed before she spotted Mila. A polite smile slid across her face—one that said that she hadn't recognized Mila yet.

"Captain, welcome to D'Qar," she started, extending her hand. "It's a pleasure to finally—" Her dark eyes popped. "Wait. Mila? Is that you?"

Mila chuckled. "Hey, Harter."

"By the Force!" Kalonia wrapped Mila into a hug. "How have you been, Lieu—excuse me—Captain Criss… except the general called you by a different name, didn't she?"

She's going to freak.

"It's Dameron, now. I… got married, Major. I took his name."

"Oh, Mila!"

"And he's here, too. You'll see a lot of him."

"Can't get enough of you, can he?"

"He's also just good at finding trouble."

"Aren't they all?"

Both women laughed. There was such an ease to everything, to the people here, to this place. Without the uptightness of the Navy strangling the air, Mila didn't quite know what to do with herself.

"Come with me, Mila." Kalonia put an arm around Mila's shoulders. "I'll show you your assignments."

"You wanted to see me, General?"

He'd received the summons while Calo was showing him the T-70 he'd been flying, and he left the tip-giving to Karé and Iolo as he found his way into the base, through the hallways—BB-8 struggled to roll down the stairs—and finally, after a few wrong turns, into the command center. Leia smiled when she saw him.

"I did, Poe. Come here."

She motioned for him to stand next to her as she powered up the holoprojector in front of them. The ghostly image she had prepared rippled to life. An old man with withering features and white hair. His kind eyes had seen too much.

Poe recognized him instantly.

"How much do you remember about Lor San Tekka?"