Maevry leans against the door, ignoring the cool, clinical walls of the medical facility, and focuses only on her husband, unconscious in a kolto tank. Thanks to the sedatives given, Quinn looks rested, almost peaceful for once; a look she rarely has the luxury to see these days, thanks to Revan.

If Quinn had to become injured, why here on Rishii of all places? She hates the damn place even more now. She wanted to bring him back to the ship, but he insisted that his injuries from the pirates were severe enough that the trip would take too long. So thanks to a quick holocall to Lana, they found a private medical facility. And now Maevry waits.

She hates waiting.

#

The doctor leaves the room and Quinn starts to put on his uniform, methodically and efficiently, the way he's dressed almost every day of his adult life. He risks a glance at his wife, she's quiet and still, sitting in a chair, reading a datapad. Trying to catchup on the latest news of the Empire, no doubt. Quinn would need to do the same once he's out of this blasted facility. Three days in a kolto tank. Three days they couldn't afford to lose. Three days when he wasn't by her side.

The look on Maevry's face is serious, so he tries to lighten the mood a bit. Tugging on his uniform jacket, Quinn says, "I'll be back at peak efficiency, before you know it, my love." Maevry looks up at him, then, crossing her arms over her chest, her face blank. His brow furrows. Usually she never fails to smile at the words peak efficiency; they have become a private joke between them. "My lord?"

"We need to discuss what happened, Captain," Maevry says softly.

At the use of his title, Quinn straightens into a parade rest. When they're alone, she only ever calls him captain if they're discussing work. It's a distinction that's works well for them. "What would you like to discuss, my lord?"

"Ilum, Makeb, and now Rishii," Maevry says with a sigh. "You've been seriously wounded on all three planets."

Quinn wants to retort, wants to defend himself, but she hasn't given him permission to speak, so he clenches his jaw and waits. What she says is true, but it's been because of bad luck, is all, not inferior tactics and execution on his part.

She stands, bringing the heel of her hand to her temple. "I think it's time you consider wearing something other than your uniform out in the field. Perhaps a hard suit like Pierce."

The first thought that crosses his mind is he will never wear the same hard suit at Pierce. "May I speak, my lord?"

Her voice sounds exasperated when she says, "Of course. You don't need permission, you know this."

"The lieutenant and I have different roles out in the field. His whole job is get people to hit him, he needs the heavy armor, I do not," Quinn says. "It would restrict my movement. I need-"

"And I need to not look behind me to see my husband crumpled on the ground," Maevry says, anger lacing her words. His wife rarely gets angry outside of battle, it's something he relishes when he's there to witness it. Because usually it's not directed at him. "Leathers, then, something more substantial than an Imperial uniform."

"My lord, my uniform has a polyplast lining. It is more substantial," Quinn says. He requisitioned this uniform himself last time they went to Dromund Kaas.

"Then stop getting hit in battle!"

His gaze fell to the floor. He's failed her, he realizes, his heart beginning to stammer. She's right, she's absolutely right. Here he is, trying to make excuses, when the truth is staring him in the face. He no longer fights as good as he did twenty years ago. Granted, Quinn knows the experience he's had in those twenty years is invaluable. But it's not the same as being twenty-five and in the prime shape of his life.

Maevry stands next to him now, as she places her small hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "Malavai, you're over forty now," she says. Her voice is low but thankfully there is no pity in her voice. He couldn't stand that, not when she's only twenty-seven years old and still has the best years of her life ahead of her. "There's no shame in adjusting your strategy. You're not dodging as quickly as you were. Perhaps it's time to make allowances."

"Such as a hard suit?" Quinn says bitterly.

"Yes," Maevry says. "Why is that such a bad thing? It will keep you safe, so you can keep me safe."

At her words, he eases out of parade rest and puts his hands on his wife's waist. He hadn't thought of it like that. He can't think of anything he wouldn't do to keep her safe from harm. Including wearing a hard suit. "I'm sure we can find something workable here on Rishii until we can go back to Dromund Kaas to procure a custom kit."

"Thank you," Maevry says, and he's gratified when she rises up on tiptoes to press her lips against his. "Now let's get back to it."

"Of course, my love," he says. They separate, and Quinn waits a dutiful few steps before following her out the door. "I refuse to wear the same one Pierce has."

"Would never ask you to," his wife says, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

"Just so we're clear."

"Crystal."