A/N: Apologies to everyone who is following this story. As you've probably noticed, my updates have gotten derailed lately; my life has been in turmoil and I hadn't had the inclination to write. But. Here is a chapter.

There is a force that holds the universe together, but no one knows what it is.

No. That isn't entirely true; everyone has their own theory. Jedi, like Kota, will call it the Force and smile mysteriously when asked about its nature; romantics will call it love, and make pyres in its name. Scientists, of course, have been searching for this force for centuries. There is gravity, there is electromagnetism, there are the nuclear forces; surely there must be something that ties all of them together?

There isn't.

Juno does not believe in any gods; she believes in the complexities of hyperspace jumps and the surety of a blaster in her hands—and a grand unifying force that holds the universe together sounds far too much like a god for her liking. Still, if there is a satisfactory proof for it, she will believe.

She believes in the Force, for example, though she is still not convinced it is the unification of all the forces; she believes in love, too, but that hardly holds the universe together.

Hyperspace blurs and shifts before her eyes. "We are approaching the coordinates," Juno announces to the ship. "Galen, are you ready? We drop out of hyperspace in six minutes—"

"I'm ready," he says, appearing at her shoulder so quickly that she starts. "Sorry," he adds. "I could—feel it, somehow—even in hyperspace—"

The Force, again. Juno nods. "Are you certain about this?" she asks him.

Such earnestness in his eyes, like a boy saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry after he has broken his mother's favorite vase—"The rebel leaders are there," Galen says. "I know it."

The ship skips out of hyperspace smoothly, easily, and then they are cruising through a system on the Outer Rim; directly above them Juno registers a massive object the size of a small moon. She maneuvers the ship around. The half-constructed Death Star looms before them, ominously, which is appropriate considering it's name—

She follows him out onto the boarding ramp as it unfolds. "Keep the ship cloaked and wait beyond scanner range," he orders, without looking at her, and there is something deadly in the way he walks—

Her heart is hammering against her ribs. "Will I see you again?" she asks.

"If I can free the rebels, they're going to need extraction," he says.

That isn't what she asked.

He is obfuscating and he knows it, because when he glances back at her there is the trace of a smile on his lips, despite everything; "Probably not, no," he admits.

She thinks, How very brave.

She thinks, But I want to see you again.

Lightning again, crackling between them with such passionate intensity that Juno is surprised he doesn't see it; she may not see him again, ever, ever, and she is in love with him and he does not know—

Because he wouldn't presume, would he? And he may die and never know that someone loved him, and that, really, is the one thing she cannot stand. Love does not hold the universe together. How can it? It is tearing her apart.

"Then I suppose I'll never have to live up to this," Juno says, with a bravado she does not feel, and there is a flash of startled wonder in his eyes as she pulls him towards her and kisses him—

And instead of saying I love you or the thousand and one things he could have said, Galen pulls her against him and kisses her back; his fingers are on her cheek, her hair; his lips are warm and surprisingly soft—but then, he doesn't get much kissing done these days, does he?

Come back, she thinks. Please come back—

As first kisses go, it is quite heartbreaking.

Then he is gone, tumbling backward into the twisted labyrinth of aero-steel and titanium below, and his whispered goodbye is still ringing in her ears even as he falls.

What are the chances that he'll go up against Darth Vader and win? What are the chances that she'll see him again?

The boarding ramp clicks shut beneath her feet. Juno presses her trembling fingers against her lips and wishes that she were not quite so good at probability.

Because, she thinks, it is quite probable that she loves him.

A/N: I am tempted to end this story right here, because, after all, this is a romance story and they have fallen in love, so what else is there but the ending, and everyone knows how the ending goes. I'm not even sure if I want to write the ending. Both are sort of depressing.

Let me know what you think.