"As bad as losing faith in humanity might seem, losing faith in happy endings is much worse." -Jason Gideon
Freya woke up alone the next morning, still draped in the thin blanket she had curled herself in the night before. She spread her fingers across Poe's side of the bed and groaned when she felt nothing but chilled sheets. How long had he been gone? Anger flooded into her as she opened her eyes to glare at the glowing holo-clock on her nightstand. He'd let her sleep in again! She quickly bolted out of bed and instantly fell flat on her face as her foot tangled in the pale sheet she'd been previously cuddling. Pain lanced up both of her forearms and her left knee, but she forced herself up onto her feet anyways after shaking off the offending linen. The brunette felt a dark cloud hanging over her this morning, and Poe was going to get an earful when she finally got her hands on him.
Poe knew how much she loathed it when he let her sleep in past when she wanted to. Being prompt and on time to her briefings kept her sane, and it was a routine that she liked to stick to. Plus, the General had a tendency to yell at her if she missed too many in a small window of time. General Organa had actually been recently hinting that perhaps Frey's romance with Poe was beginning to interfere with her work, and the last thing that the brunette wanted was to give the bitch the reason she needed to transfer one of them to a different base. The general thought of her as a tool, and tools that didn't work right weren't of any use.
When she had first come into the general's care, it had felt like coming home. There had always been a lingering sense of cold formality between Senator Organa and her son, though Freya had never really shared Ben's suspicions as to her reasons for the distance between them. This could have been because during the handful of times that Frey had been in her presence; the older woman had appeared nothing but kind, if not a little harried. Before she had come to live with the woman she hadn't believed what Ben had told her about the senator; that she was absent, cold and often left him in the care of his nannies. Freya had believed that she was simply busy and her son was being overly dramatic; she had been very wrong to assume the best. Still General Organa had been, and still was, the closest thing to a mother that the young girl had ever really known.
At first general had handled her with kid gloves by tending to her and catering to her feelings, but after the first year she had been unceremoniously thrust into guard training. Perhaps the General had originally offered to keep the orphaned seventeen year old in the hopes that Luke would have to return for her, or maybe that she could use Frey to compel her son to come home. When both of those things turned out to be improbable, if not impossible, Leia had pawned her off onto her rebel teachers and moved her out into the recruit barracks. Eventually when she showed enough promise; Leia had found a use for her as a spy. This was how someone who Frey had once considered a mother had come to command her entire life, and she was never allowed to call her anything apart from 'ma'am', 'sir' or 'general'. As far as the brunette was concerned, the only reason that Leia Organa even kept her around anymore, was the simple face that she was irrevocably bound to her wayward son.
With all these thoughts settled prominently in the forefront of her mind, the brunette grumbled unintelligibly to herself as she pulled on her skin-tight, light-weight, custom shadow suit. Once she had finished with the last buckle, she swiped her fingers against the material on her left forearm and a small glowing screen flickered to life on the black material. She leisurely tapped in a few numbers, and the suit instantly hardened into a thicker, leather like material. Her shadow suit was special. It had been a special gift from her mentor, Krile, years ago when she had finally beaten him in a duel. It was similar in cut to the general's old suit, but hers was specifically made for missions which required no uncertain amount of secrecy and stealth.
It was made of shadow silk, a soft but unbelievably tough fiber, the best that imperial credits could buy and crafted to cancel out any rubbing noises when she moved. Thankfully her suit had also included a muffling layer in the gloves. It also lacked any form of electronic device that could be detected by sensors, or energy signature trackers. All shadow suits were created like this, but what truly made hers special was the mods her trainer had added which allowed her suit to morph into specifically coded designs that she input herself. It made the suit highly adaptable and perfect for most occasions. Her mentor claimed to have won the suit off some Outer Rim space pirates in a lucky game of Sabacc, but she hadn't bought a word of it. Instead she had hounded Krile hundreds of times about where he had really gotten it from. To this day he'd never told her. It had to have been an heirloom though, as no one had produced shadow suits in decades.
A stripe of thick, repeated diamond shaped padding formed on the outside of her upper arms, the front strip of her forearm, on her hips and thighs and down across the back of her calves. The transformation was pretty quick, and once it was done, she pulled on her knee-length black boots that had come with the suit; buckling them quickly. Though she no longer used a light saber, she had swiftly mastered the vibroblade; much to her teachers chagrin. That selfsame blade was the next thing she snatched up from where it had been leaning against the wall. Blade in hand, she righted herself and turned to exit her bedroom, not bothering to make the bed this morning; Poe could do it in return for leaving her behind this morning.
The girl meandered her way to the refresher and took in her disheveled bed-hair and the dark circles under her eyes. 'Wow, I look lovely this morning...' she thought to herself, cringing as she tried to drag her slender fingers through her chocolate brown locks. Small crimson streaks were woven through her hair as well, though you could hardly tell with the rat's nest they were buried in. She finger-combed through her hair carefully, and eventually with much time and all the patience she had in her whole body; she managed to tame her wild locks. Frey grabbed up her stealth-tech goggles and tightened the strap around her head. The straps were also custom-made and the straps were made of plasteel and magnetically linked.
She had commissioned them this way just in case her choice to use them as a fashion accessory was misplaced and she needed to use them quickly. First she separated the shorter hairs of her fringe from the longer strands of her hair, and then with practiced confidence she began the work of weaving hair around the goggles to secure them to her head. Her fingers moved gracefully, twisting and turning strands of hair together into two separate braids at the sides of her head. One braid she pulled up and over the top of her head into a headband, while she pulled the other down under the rest of her hair by the nape of her neck. She pinned both pieces in place and then pulled up the remainder of her lower-back length hair into a messy ponytail. The brunette was hardly vain, but when it came to her hair she preferred it to look as precise as possible. She gave herself a sharp, scrutinizing once over, and found everything to be to her liking.
Falling easily into her usual morning routine, she reached into one of the small stone cubbies that were carved into the stone wall of her refresher and grabbed the few bits of makeup she occasionally used. She ran a black liner stick along the waterline of her eyes and then just above her lashes on her eyelids. She smudged the liner she'd put on her lids to create a rushed smoky effect. Frey usually didn't bother with concealer for the dark circles under her eyes, as they would fade quickly once she actually cared enough to direct the Force to heal them. She also didn't bother with lipstick, as her lips were already naturally rosy. All in all her morning routine was fairly mundane, but it suited her usual lifestyle; after all who had time for makeup when you were on the run or sneaking into top-secret facilities.
Frey exited the refresher and programmed the lights off as she left the small space and headed for her kitchen. Opening the small chiller in the corner, she pulled out a large, purple jogan fruit and swiftly sunk her teeth deep into the striped purple flesh. She smiled instantly at the rush of sweetness that flooded her mouth, and took a moment to savor the flavor. It was only recently that jogan fruit made it to her quarters; perks of dating the Resistance's best fighter pilot. The woman would have been content to stay in that exact spot forever, but the small ping of the alert she had programmed into her suit's mini-computer had her turning back towards the door to her quarters. Once there she leaned her vibroblade against the wall and snatched up a pure white cowl that had once been the general's. With a practiced flourish she pulled it over her head.
The general had given it to her in the wake of the Yavin massacre, having replaced it with a new one. It had been a luxurious comfort back then, but now Frey wore it because she knew it rankled the older woman to see her wearing it so casually. To the older woman's credit, she had yet to ask for it back. It pooled around her neck and draped over her shoulders, flowing into a long cape that almost touched the floor. When the brunette was younger, she had run around in it everywhere and it had dragged along the ground. The ends had frayed and some of the once crisp edge had turned to tatters, but Frey made an active effort to keep it as clean as possible now.
The last thing she reached for was dangling on a hook near the door, and it completed her usual attire quite nicely. A duel-strap belt made of pale white leather and plasteel. It was decorated with a series of small pouches which contained any number of objects she'd needed on her missions; most importantly the small pill she was to eat if she was ever actually caught by the First Order. The side that adorned her right hip had two straps that merged into a single strap as it wrapped behind her, and it fastened in front with a silver buckle. A small blaster holster hung over her left hip as well. Frey had a distinct distaste for the blaster, but unfortunately her favored weapon had been lost over ten years ago, buried in the wreckage of the only place that had ever truly felt like home; Yavin. She hurriedly retrieved her blade's scabbard, clipped it onto the intricately weaved band that it hung from, and threaded the band over her shoulder; clasping it together over her ribs diagonally.
Pain flared through her mind as repressed thoughts of that night fluttered through her mind; wild and unhindered they played themselves over and over in her mind until she was sure she would never be able to catch her breath again. Frey curled her fingers inward involuntarily and her nails dug into her palms; eyes clenched tightly and head bowed forward to press against the door in front of her. It was over in seconds, but to her it had felt as if lifetimes had passed her by. Her hazel eyes fluttered open and tears sprung unbidden from them to streak down her cheeks. Fear replaced the pain within her and she shook silently for a moment before she managed to calm herself once more. She hadn't had an attack like that in a very long time, and unfortunately she didn't have the luxury of time to have one now.
She swept a few strands of hair off her forehead and pushed the small button next to the exit. The door swished open, and the pained expression on her face was carefully restructured into a look of mild indifference. Freya had a very particular reputation with the resistance members on this base, hell all of the bases, and she was not going to upset that just because of a small slip in character. The brunette prowled the hallways like a tigress; regal and proud. She had resolved to pretend like the night before hadn't actually happened, and by god she was going to soldier on like she always did. It didn't take long before she reached the closed doors of the meeting room, and a small smirk appeared on her lips as she watched the two door guards share uneasy glances at her approach. "Sorry ma'am, the briefing has already started. It's not to be disturbed..." the first guard said uncertainly, trailing off at the end as he realized that you weren't going to be put aside. 'It's the Generals orders," the other one bravely chirped soon after.
Freya had done what she could to school her cruel smile into one that came off more pleasant, but from the way they shifted beneath her gaze, she hadn't succeeded. "I see. Well, in that case-" she lifted a single hand to wave across their vision, "you understand that those rules don't apply to me. You want to let me in like the nice boys you are." They nodded their heads and moved to punch in a code in a side panel of the door, parting them with a crisp swish. She smiled kindly at the two and lifted her hand in a mock salute before striding into the now silent room. Many heads had turned to train their eyes on her, but she simply walked through them as they parted for her. Once she reached the center of the room, she leaned against a large column and stared blankly back at the general who's own angry expression was plainly displayed on her face as she stared at her from across the broad holo-table. Freya smiled unabashedly back, and waved her hand before her like go on, don't mind me. The General then turned her attention back to Major Taslin Brance who had apparently been mid-report when she entered. "Continue Major."
Frey tuned out most of the major's report, as it was usually some boring nonsense about First Order fleet movements. She distractedly cast her eyes around the room, looking for a very specific set of warm, brown eyes and a head of thick black hair. A frown graced her lips when she quickly realized that Poe wasn't actually here in this room. This struck her as odd because, like her, he was required to be at every one of these briefings. "... stormtroopers on Jakku... Lor San Tekka killed..." Why wouldn't he be here? He never missed these meetings. 'Well, maybe not never, there was that one day...' she mused to herself with a small smile as she recalled the feeling of his lips on the hollow between her neck and collarbone. They had stayed in bed all day, and he had taught her a new definition of worship. 'Dameron's x-wing found in pieces... no sign of a body."
The world stalled, or at least hers did. A chill worked its way through her entire body as every single muscle and tendon in her body instantly turned to stone. Her eyes shot up and over to the Major and her jaw locked in place; instinctively halting the sharp wail that was surely building up in her lungs. Was that why she couldn't breathe? Her hands shot out to the holo-table and she pressed the exact series of keys that would bring up the report that Brance was currently reciting. Her hands shook as she clenched the table as if it was the last piece of solid material in the 'verse. Hazel eyes hardened as she read through the report, but when she reached the part that referenced the attack and subsequent massacre of the small village on Jakku, her legs gave way beneath her. 'No sign of a body or parts from BB-8 droid found at site of crash. This has to be wrong.' Immediately and without ceremony, she went crashing to the floor in a fit of ragged sobs. Though she would rather be wailing and screaming as loudly as she could, to do so would solve nothing; except to hinder the rest of the meeting. This summit was everything to the General, and she wouldn't tolerate it being interrupted, not even for Freya's anguish.
A few pilots had rushed to her as they heard the news, knowing that she wouldn't be anything close to alright, but as they reached for the distressed girl the General cleared her throat coldly and waved them off. For half an hour the girl sat where she had fallen, sobbing silently and alone. Her teeth were embedded deep within her fist to muffle the screams she wished to release. Poe was dead. Her Poe. His beautiful brown eyes… gone? 'How is this possible I just saw him... surely it was only a few hours ago. It's not possible that it was him.' She repeated this over and over, sinking ever deeper into denial as she pulled her legs ever tighter against her chest; back braced against the pale column she had been leaning against. Her body shivered in response to her despondence, and to anyone who might accidentally stumble upon her she looked as though her soul had been sucked from her.
The General, in all her glory, had continued the meeting with words and plans on how they would retrieve the salvageable parts of Poe's ship, and had prioritized finding the location of his BB unit and the map it surely held. It was cold, calculated, clinical, and it sickened her so much more than she ever thought possible. 'Now I know where her son's cruel streak came from,' she weakly considered before the thought fluttered out through the cracks of her fractured mind like ashes on the wind. Her muffled wailing had whittled away to silent whimpering by the time the meeting was excused, and the members allowed to leave. Some had passed by her without even a glance, but many more still had whispered their condolences as they skittered away back to their own families and away from the awkwardness that her grief had made them feel.
The General having been one of the first out of the door, hadn't even deigned to comment before excusing herself politely and sauntering past her. After some time, Freya managed to pull herself unsteadily onto her feet before staggering towards the door. No matter how much she tried, she just couldn't get her legs to respond the way she wanted them too. Numbness had spread throughout her body, and it had also seemingly interrupted her brain's connection to her limbs. She swayed dubiously down the hallway towards their quarters, but collapsed again just outside the door when she remembered that he wouldn't be in there waiting for her. If he wouldn't be there, where would she go? If she couldn't bring him back…
Then it happened. It was strange how quick it was, really. Something in her mind just, unhinged and her sorrow gave way to an untempered ire that threatened to consume everything that she was. It was her fault! 'If that bitch hadn't risked his life on increasingly dangerous missions, he wouldn't be… he would..' She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought, because if she did it would mean it was real. It couldn't be real. Not right now. 'If I can't bring him back, I'll have to settle for burning this whole place to the ground.' Bolting to her feet, she ambled down a dozen of the now familiar hallways towards a very specific set of doors. Clearly the bitch had foreseen her reaction because there, standing directly in her way, was a small honor guard of resistance soldiers in place to keep her away. 'Oh ma'am, you wound me. Did you really believe that so small a force would be enough to keep my hands from wrapping around your throat?' A slightly unhinged giggle ripped itself out around the lump in her throat, and she slowed down her sprint into a stalking gait. "You don't want to be in my way right now," she growled in a feral tone. For a moment they did actually move, but astonishingly they managed to recover from her command, and once more stationed themselves at the door.
'Screw the Force! I'll take them out all on my own merit!' It was with this final thought that she threw off her cowl, reached up over her shoulder into the scabbard that she always kept hidden beneath the layers of fabric and drew her vibroblade with a hiss. She pivoted her hip to take a wide slash at the nearest guard who instantly crumpled inward; hands clasped to his stomach in agony. In the same movement, she arched her sword down towards the calves of the next guard who had stupidly rushed her. As he was falling she dropped down to one knee and smoothly allowed her body's natural inertia to spin herself back around onto her heels. She shoved off from her back foot to dodge the shock baton that had been aimed at her, sucking in her stomach as it zoomed harmlessly passed.
She landed gracefully before once more darting forward, this time lashing upwards at the guard who had overextended himself with that baton swing. His body twirled elegantly in the air as her blade impacted his jaw with a singularly powerful blow, and she redirected her unarmed hand downwards to block yet another baton that had been aimed at her unprotected side by a different guard. She was surprised by the strength of the shock that vaulted over her arm and burrowed down deep into her bones. Honor guard troops usually weren't allowed to have their batons placed at such a high setting, but apparently these lovely gentlemen had been given special privileges where she was concerned. Her muscles seized up as another baton slipped past her defenses to brand the back of her right thigh. One of her previous victims had apparently recovered enough of his bravery to retaliate.
She collapsed in a heap just outside the crimson door of the General's quarters, and as Frey's body instinctively assumed the fetal position in an attempt to protect herself; the undeniable swish of the hydraulic door opening accompanied yet another shock the guards inflicted on her. Clearly, she had given them quite a scare. ''Take her to the basement and let her rot in a cell for a while. Maybe she'll come to her senses when she doesn't have anyone to attack like the wild animal she is." Half a dozen hands reached for her at once, and she was unceremoniously dragged through the compound.
It didn't take very long for their little tableau to reach the hold, but truthfully she wasn't really aware of the passage of time. Right around the time that she managed to unscramble her thoughts enough to understand where she was, the brunette was roughly tossed onto the cold, rough ground. A humming sound started up, and she weakly lifted her head enough to look towards the way she had come. They had placed a forcefield up to keep her in. 'Smart move..' Somberly she laid there in the exact way she had been thrown; one arm thrown awkwardly above her head, the other crushed beneath her body painfully. How could she care about that right now? She couldn't. What did it matter that she had numerous painful burn marks all over her body, or that she could feel fresh blood leaking out from between her lips? Her Poe was gone.
The numbness returned, and so did the swirling presence from earlier. Without thinking she took aim and lashed out at him with all the power, pain, anguish and anger that she couldn't contain inside her any longer. The darkness recoiled, and in the darkest part of her mind she thought she could feel him being thrown back from the intense mental pain she had just inflicted on him. Finally, with a heart-wrenching wail her levies broke and she screamed out all of the pain that had built up inside her. Her Poe was gone, and she didn't know what to do. "Please, please don't be dead.."
Notes
Hey there, Trouble here! I was actually going to hold onto this chapter until Friday, but I got too excited and couldn't wait any longer.
I hope you like it!
Please leave feedback if you notice something is off or any typos.
Question Time! For 100 points, what do you think Freya's punishment is going to be?