Aitahea watched, silent, as Brant Sonn ripped the Thul banner down from its place outside the warehouse, tossing the fabric aside and hoisting aloft the blue and gold of House Organa. The adjacent farmlands were clear of their enemies, and she hoped the families that tended them would soon be able to return, to have lives again peaceful and orderly.

The Thul warehouse had quickly become a staging area for the merged Organa and Republic forces once Aitahea's rescue had been completed. A painstaking search of the building had revealed no trace of the Wolf Baron or his Blackguard, leaving them with only the low-ranking guards who'd been Aitahea's unfortunate jailers. They would be sitting tight while prisoner exchanges were arranged and negotiations finalized.

The strike team that Aitahea and Erithon had agreed to lead had opted to wait until the following day to advance on the Thul and Sith forces. Qyzen Fess and Aric Jorgan had volunteered to scout the Sith camp, their experience making them ideal for the initial part of this new mission. Elara Dorne had efficiently organized the Organa subjects into something that suggested typical rank and file.

Aitahea found herself surprisingly grateful to be ensconced in the same warehouse in which she'd been held prisoner, working alongside Erithon as they organized the next morning's attack. Though they'd barely had a moment to speak other than in communication about the impending battle, just being near him seemed to ease her spirits. It went without saying that his presence was making the wait and the work that much more pleasant, delighted as she was to see him.

Her abbreviated captivity hadn't left her any worse for wear; she couldn't help but entertain the morbid thought that she probably hadn't had as significant a rest as those few hours of forced unconsciousness in weeks. Nevertheless, Elara continued to regularly check in with her, and Erithon remained within arm's reach.

Erithon. She had known, even in the depths of her stupor, the Force still a guiding path for her unconscious mind, that she was safe and would eventually be rescued. But waking to that particular set of blue eyes? A dream come true.

"Jedi?" He appeared at her shoulder again, real and warm and safe; Aitahea swallowed hard and tried to calm her escalating heartbeat.

"Yes," she answered, scanning his face again. Again.

She was looking at him too much. Someone was going to notice. Someone else, since the duke and the sergeant had obviously already witnessed her absolute nonsense upon awakening from the drug-induced sleep. What had she said? I was just thinking of you? She wanted to simply blame it on the drugs, but when he'd pulled her in close, what he'd said… How is it you end up in my arms every time we meet?

All she had managed at that singular moment had been a giggle. Honestly. Honestly.

"We're close to done here, if you want to take a break. You've been going nonstop since you woke up." He was trying to smile at her, but a crease kept appearing between his brows. Even had she not been a Jedi, his worry would have been palpable.

"Thank you, I think you're right. Today has been… remarkable, to say the least. Like this, since before I arrived." She waved a hand at the bustling warehouse before offering a rueful smile. "I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to see your holo. It's just been…"

Erithon chuckled. "It wasn't urgent, I mean. I just wanted you to know I was on the way here. Worked out after all."

"It has indeed." She folded and refolded her hands, eyes flickering to where Elara Dorne gave a small squad some cursory training drills. "Your team has grown since Taris."

"Yeah, Sergeant Dorne is great. She joined us on Taris, actually."

"Her accent…"

"Yup. She was an Imperial citizen. Didn't like how they did business on the other side, so she joined us."

"That's incredible."

He shuffled, distracted for a moment by some sheets of loose flimsy that shifted when he tried leaning against a table. "So, this is where you grew up, right?"

She smiled, delighted. "You remembered." Much to her continued wonder, he blushed and stammered over the next few words.

"Hard to forget." He paused, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath before continuing in a rush. "Well, we've sort of been on this, uh, trajectory, right? I mean we practically flew into each other over Nar Shaddaa." He quieted and stepped closer, something wistful on his face. "Looking at the same stars over and over again."

The rest of the room seemed to hush along with him, but even so, Aitahea could barely hear anything over her madly rushing pulse. Stars. She had a sudden wild urge to embrace him, just absolutely throw herself into his arms. I must still be suffering the effects of that gas. What am I doing? She promptly quashed the superfluous impulse, instead holding up her datapad.

"You said we're finished for now? Let's…" she trailed off, looking around the room for another suitable distraction. "Have a look outside? I'm sure the sergeant would agree to a quick lap around the perimeter, just to-" By the Force, did you just ask him to go on a walk with you? "-see how our allies are faring?" She finished in a rush, looking somewhat desperately for a charging dock for the datapad she still clutched.

He chuckled again, plucking the device from her hands and setting it aside. "I think they'll be fine. But you seem to need it, so let's get out of here." She inclined her head gratefully as he gave her the lead and wasted no time in heading for the warehouse exit.

Aitahea blinked as they walked out into bright sunlight, raising a hand to shade her eyes. The farmland they'd be crossing tomorrow was lush, already planted with crops that she hoped would survive the battle. A farm vehicle still smoked among some of the scorched plants, but she felt certain that their team wouldn't allow any more harm to come to the farmlands or its people.

Erithon fell into step next to her and angled their path toward the coast. They walked in companionable silence until they reached the rocks that marked the edge of the coastline, heedless of the light snow that had gathered in the shade of the evergreens. The sea churned against the rocks, calm but still very, very far below.

"What a view. Come on." Erithon broke the silence, clambering onto a boulder and turning to offer her a hand. "Aren't scared of heights, are you, Jedi?"

Aitahea laughed, recalling with wry amusement when he'd pulled her to the edge of a much smaller, much nastier body of water on Taris, and reached to take the proffered hand. "I am not, fortunately. But I must admit that thranta is one of my least favorite forms of transportation." She nodded toward a nearby platform where a few nests were visible.

"Those big bird things? Yeah, no thanks. I'll take a speeder." He pulled her close, sliding his free arm protectively around her waist until she had her footing.

Aitahea took a long breath, fighting the urge to look anywhere but his eyes, earnest and warm and still a little worried. Oh, I missed you, she thought and swallowed hard to keep the words to herself. They were well back from the edge of the sheer rock face, but she couldn't help feeling a little bereft when he released her and dropped his hands back to his sides.

She turned away from the coastline, looking back toward the battered towers of Organa Castle. "Tell me about how you regained the Spears of Organa. The Duke only gave me a brief outline, but he wasn't able to share any details."

Erithon grinned at her. "It wasn't what we expected to be doing as soon as we were dirtside, that's for sure." He straightened, squinting at the surrounding landscape for some point of reference. "Haley Organa caught us at the spaceport, desperate as anything, asking us to disarm some baradium bombs. That was the first we saw of these Thul clowns." He pulled a face, like he'd gotten a whiff of something foul-smelling. "Didn't like their tactics at all. They fought dirty, set up ambushes all around those turrets. Took all three of us, if I'm being honest." Any bashfulness he'd displayed since their reunion fell away as he spoke of his companions, giving way to a steadfast and proud commander. "Havoc's becoming a good team."

Aitahea had seen more than a few Republic military recruitment posters in her travels, but they paled in comparison to Erithon standing before her now, dashing and capable and quite real. Her fingers quivered as she reached out, but she placed her hand on his arm anyway. "They have a good leader."

He gazed down at her, pensive for a moment before he broke into one of his now-familiar lopsided grins. "Just doing my job, Master Jedi."

"You…" Aitahea pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, considering her hand on his arm before she lifted her eyes to his again. "Please, call me Aitahea, won't you?"

"Of- of course. Aitahea," he stammered in reply, and it was like hearing it for the first time. He hesitated for a beat before placing his own hand over hers, fingertips cool against her flushed skin.

Her breath caught in her throat, chased by a feeling like falling. Like gravity failing. Suspended and unsure how to move, what to reach out for. Oh stars.

"Lieutenant?"

Both their heads swung hastily toward the unexpected voice. Aitahea slipped her hand back to her side as surreptitiously as possible and willed her burning cheeks to cool. Aric Jorgan and Qyzen Fess approached, looking none the worse for wear, returning from their scouting mission. Jorgan saluted efficiently, while Qyzen remained unreadable as usual.

"Ready to debrief, sir. We've got footage to show you in the warehouse." He nodded to Aitahea. "Master Jedi, we'll need your assessment in particular, I think."

"Many Sith," Qyzen rumbled. "Soft things, but dangerous still."

"Never a dull moment," Erithon drawled, giving a perfunctory shrug. "Guess we better get back to work, huh?"

Aitahea nodded solemnly, tucking away the lingering feeling of loss that had lodged in her chest. "Indeed. Let's head back."

"Herald, a word," Qyzen said, and Aitahea tilted her head.

"Of course, Qyzen." She nodded to the Trandoshan, then to Erithon and Jorgan as they looked at her expectantly. "We'll catch up shortly." The Cathar shrugged, and Erithon gave her a smile and a wave as they turned back toward the warehouse.

She watched until they were out of hearing range, then turned to see Qyzen uncharacteristically fretting, a divergence from his usual composed demeanor. "Is something wrong, Qyzen?"

"Would ask the same." His single seeing eye focused on her hands. She had one covering the other, as if she meant to hide the place where Erithon's fingertips had left a lingering warmth.

She straightened, sweeping her hands behind her and clasping them tight. "Nothing's wrong, Qyzen. Why?"

Qyzen's only answer was his own question. "When is last time Herald spoke to Yuon Par?"

Perplexed with the apparent change of subject, Aitahea shook her head. "Is that what you're worried about? It's been… weeks, I'm afraid. But she's well; I can sense that much through the shielding."

"Certain she is, Scorekeeper's Herald." The Trandoshan considered her for a long moment. "It is you who are not. Should speak with Yuon. For own sake."

Aitahea nodded somberly, chastised. She glanced over her shoulder just as Erithon paused one final time before he and Jorgan disappeared into the warehouse. The consular closed her eyes and pulled in a deep, slow breath. "I will, Qyzen. I will."