Emalda was perched on the edge of a bed in the infirmary, a tray of hot pastries settled across her lap. She was trying not to stare at the closed door in front of her. She forced her eyes to slide away from the door, towards the walls. Like the rest of the Armistice, the infirmary's brown metal walls were scratched and dull with age. Medical consoles were stationed beside each free-standing bed but the one beside Emalda was dark. There was a door marked storage and a row of lockers at the back of the room.

Her head swung around as the door opened and Ben entered, frowning and preoccupied. She leant forward to place the pastry tray on the darkened medical console. Ben looked up and saw her, his frown smoothing out. She smiled back but felt strangely shy now that the tears were gone.
"I've had a message from Anakin," said Ben. "He and Obi-Wan will check out Tscoruh bar. I haven't been able to fill Qui-Gon in yet, though."
Emalda mumbled agreement, knowing she had her own errand to be running; an apology to Poppi and his work crews for making such a scene. She had a vague feeling she owed Qui-Gon an apology as well but she knew that wasn't happening.

Ben gazed hard at the infirmary, as if the door itself could reveal Qui-Gon's current whereabouts. After a few moments, he visibly shook himself and turned his attention back to her.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked.
"Fine," said Emalda, wiping juice off her chin. "Have you tried these? They're full of the sweetest fruit I've ever tasted and they're hot enough to burn your tongue."
Ben took the pastry she held out to him. He hopped up onto the bed to sit beside her, still holding the pastry gingerly in his hands.
"Try it," she prompted him.
He bit into it, starting in surprise as the hot juice squirted out of it. He wiped his beard clean with one hand.
"Told you it was hot," she smiled.
"You did," he agreed.

Hesitantly, she edged sideways until she could rest her head on his shoulder. She felt him tense for a moment before he relaxed and slipped her free arm around his shoulders.
"So, where's the good doctor?" he asked.
"She's in her office down the hall," said Emalda, waving a vague hand. "She left me with orders to have plenty to eat and drink, and nothing too strenuous for the next twelve hours."
"Well, I doubt there will be much to do until we reach Canemone, in any case," said Ben.
Emalda nodded in agreement, watching as Ben took another bite of the pastry.
"Did Anakin say anything else?"
Ben's expression darkened, "He was trying to warn us that Investigator Tylip might try to kill us."

Emalda sat up abruptly, staring at Ben and pulling away from him. From the flash of guilt that flashed momentarily across his face, she gathered he hadn't actually intended to tell her that.
"You think Tylip blew up Yulana's ship?" she asked.
"It's not been confirmed," said Ben reluctantly. "But he did have opportunity and motive."
He pulled her back towards him, guiding her head to rest once more on his shoulder. He placed a gentle kiss on the crown on her head.

"I know the ship was important to you, Emalda," he whispered gently, his breath stirring her hair. "But we survived and that's what's important. We are both still here."
She shut her eyes, shocked to feel dampness on her cheeks again. She hated the weakness of tears.
"I know. I do," said Emalda. "I'd rather have lost the ship than you."

It was true but she immediately felt guilty for saying it. Yulana's last project had been the Fahren and Emalda considered herself not so much the owner but the caretaker of her sister's ship. She felt selfish for valuing her own needs above her sister's.
"Do you think my mother is on Canemone?" she asked, changing the subject.
Ben sighed, more aware of her emotions than she liked, and hugged her closer.
"I doubt it," he said apologetically. "More likely Crose lied to lure us away from Wefhuk."
"Oh."

Emalda fell silent. The loss of the Fahren would make searching for her mother much more difficult. To search for a single individual in an entire galaxy was a mammoth task and she was not coping with it well so far.
"We should get some rest," said Ben. "We're both tired."
He eased himself backwards onto the bed, pulling her with him. Designed for one Kuhd, there was just enough room for a human and an Ekash to lie side by side. She tucked herself under his arm, resting her head on his chest. It took her a moment to find a spot where his ribs weren't digging into her cheek. She found a good angle and shut her eyes.

"Now, why couldn't we have been stuck like this for an hour?" asked Emalda, feeling safer than she had in a long time.
"I certainly wouldn't complain," agreed Ben.
"Yes but you never complain anyway," smiled Emalda.
He swatted her lightly on the hip.
"Qui-Gon might complain," said Emalda. "If he catches us like this."
"Never mind about Qui-Gon," said Ben, yawning. "He's too busy to be concerned with us."
Emalda opened her eyes to peer at Ben, studying his expression.
"Rest," Ben admonished her, without opening his eyes.
She sighed and shut her eyes again. Ben's breathing evened out into sleep and Emalda allowed her exhaustion to catch up to her. The Fahren was damaged, possibly beyond repair, but at least Emalda knew where she stood with Ben. She wasn't alone.

The door was whooshed open again and Emalda opened her eyes blearily. The profile in the doorway was that of a Kuhd but it took Emalda a moment to realise it wasn't the Armistice's doctor come to check on them. It was rounder and larger and as she watched a tongue flickered out to taste the air.
"Ben?" she asked, pulling on his hand.
"Hmm?"
"Tylip's here."