Sticky sweaty skin. Short prickly hairs raised, stagnant air trapped against.

A crash. The smell of bodies burning.

Ashes fall like snow. Hot thick red burns the edges of his vision.

Run.

The sharp creaking sound of thick metal bands straining. Cold gray wires snapping.

Run.

Water beneath his feet. Not water, viscous. The smell of iron.

Guilt.

He bolts up on the mattress. His thin blanket is tangled and pooled around his legs. He looks straight ahead. His eyes search the darkness, his breathing loud and fast. He looks to his shaking hands. He makes a fist and closes his eyes hard. He slowly raises and lowers his chest.

Guilt.

He opens his eyes and turns to Shiri. Her face is scrunched up and her lips move in a quiet mumble. Her hand twitches near the edge of the pillow. Her breaths are fast and short.

Cal's hand moves to her shoulder, shaking her awake. She gasps as her eyes shoot open. She grasps his wrist firm in her hand.

"It's okay," he says hurriedly. Her panicked eyes search his face. "You're safe," he tells her firmly.

The panic falls from her and she tries to slow her shaky breaths. Her grip loosens. Cal moves his hand to her back and pulls her into his arms. Her head tucked beneath his chin, she wraps her arms around him. They hold each other tightly until their tense muscles fully relax.

The morning light is dim through the narrow window. Cal stirs and pulls back from her slightly. Eye crust and the dried remains of drool, her sleeping face is calm and peaceful. He indulges in the calmness until his morning alarm rings.

He reaches for the control panel and shuts it off. Shiri is already sitting up, her back to him and her arms stretching towards the ceiling. Her hair is messy and his shirt wrinkled.

"Good morning," Cal says before returning her yawn.

"Good morning," she repeats before moving off the cot and folding it. It fits beneath his bed. She takes her pack and goes into the refresher.

Cal moves to the cabinet and grabs out a new outfit. He considers waiting for her and changing in the refresher himself. He decides against it.

The door slides open as Cal finishes buckling his pants, his shirt sitting on the counter. Shiri is dressed for the day, her belts in place and her hair brushed and pinned up sloppily.

He picks up the shirt and turns fully towards her. Her expression raises heat to his face. Her intense eyes wash over his torso, then a soft smile as her eyes go to meet his. He finishes putting on the shirt and moves to finish his ensemble.

"How'd you sleep?" she finally asks, sitting beside him to pull on her boots.

"Good," he replies, referring to the second half of the night.

Shiri nods, "It was a good night," she says. She stands from the mattress and moves towards the door. "Are you ready?" she asks, her fingers hovering over the door controls. Cal stands in response.

They go to the shipyard. Tensions are high in public, the solitude of scrapping is a solace. They return together on the train, eyes trained low in a submissive stance. It's a relief to be back in the small narrow room. Cal showers first.

The soft scent of citrus. An oversized shirt hangs high on her thighs. Cal leans against the counters, a glass of water in his hand. He watches her move the cot into place, sitting at its edge when she finishes. The thin blanket tickles her calves. Her gaze is still low, Cal takes a drink and sets the glass down. He waits for her to speak.

"I've been thinking about something ever since running through the streets yesterday." Her eyes are trained to her hands sitting on her lap.

"What is it?" Cal asks. The empire's actions have an effect on his mind too. He thinks back to pacing the walkway. Part of him wants to scold her, but he knows he would have done the same. Besides, she's survived all this time without his help.

Survival is a sticky subject. Surviving without living. He thinks back to what she said on the shipyard. The same life, just with a little joy mixed in. He hasn't been a Jedi in many years, he's uncertain he can ever be one again. He isn't sure why he wants to survive so badly in this hopeless landscape.

Thoughts of the future cause dread more often than anything else. Small things might be better. Moments like these, with her, might be a better life. He watches her mull over her thoughts for a long time. She's hesitating to speak.

Her broken voice brings a tightness to his chest. "I don't want to be alone," just above a whisper. Yearning, aching, desire and dread.

"I'm right here." His shoulders tense, his face hard. His body stays still.

"You know that's not what I mean." He does. "I want something that's mine. Something I can hold in my hands." She looks up, her eyes burning through him. "Something the Empire can't take away because I won't let them. Something to fight for. Something…"

He can't take this, the pleading and the pain. His body moves on instinct. He kisses her, pushing her into the mattress. His body is heavy on hers. Her tears spill, falling into her hair. She wraps her arms around him.

He pulls back breathless, his heart pounding in his chest. He wipes at her tears and kisses her forehead.

"Do you want me?" she asks, her sad voice full of need.

He pulls back from her. Her legs are spread around him. Her bare thighs lead up to an off-white pair of underwear. A short expanse of skin between that hem and the wrinkled mess of her shirt. The fabric lays around her. The curve of her stomach. The soft rise of her breasts. The skin of her neck.

She's biting her lower lip in a nervous fashion, her brows knitting together. Her eyes question him, wet and pleading. There is still a hardness to her, but the softness is overwhelming. There's a strength in her softness, only safe enough to show because it's to him. He knows this. This is just for him, because he knows her and she knows him.

"Yes," he barely says. Her face relaxes and her lips part slightly, pink and full. He leans down and kisses her again.

Her lips are soft. Her hands move to his shirt. He breaks from her so she can pull it over his head. He pauses to let her look over him. Her palms are flat against the middle of his chest. She spreads them out, tracing to his shoulders, then around his neck.

The hunger in her eyes pools blood lower in him, tightening his shorts uncomfortably. She pulls him down to her, biting his lower lip.

His hands move to the outside of her thighs. He draws them up, almost catching them on her underwear. He catches the bottom edge of her shirt. Her skin is so much softer than he imagined. When his fingers start to trace her breasts, she moans against his mouth.

At the sound, he rushes to take off her shirt. "Shiri," he says, devouring her with his eyes. Her breasts are there, bare for him. He swallows hard. He touches them, the soft mounds just larger than his hands. Her nipples tempt him, erect and pink.

He squeezes one between his thumb and forefinger. She moans and squeezes her thighs around him.

He groans in response before taking the other one in his mouth.

"Cal!" she calls out, her hips wiggling against his. His grip on her is hard and rough, it's all instinctual. He can't think of anything else.

She arches her back and grinds clumsily against him. Her fingers lace through his hair. Cal has little tolerance for her ministrations, he lifts his head and grabs her hips. He grinds into her roughly, her disjointed gasps and moans encouraging him.

"Cal," this is a different kind of pleading than he's used to hearing. All these feelings and sounds are so unfamiliar to him, but that doesn't make them unwelcome. His training hadn't prepared him for anything like this, maybe if he had been older when he was still under his Master's care.

He still knows that this sort of thing would have been discouraged by his Master. But he has no Master now and this life has been hard enough. He has no desire to deny something so good.

He craves community and connection. If he has to build it himself, he will. As long as she's willing he will have her, he will attach to her. Does he really need to worry about falling to the darkside when his connection to the force is so broken. It all feels so far away, the Empire, the Darkside, and even the Jedi.

"Please," she begs, her head thrown back in pleasure. Her leg moves curled around his thigh, trying to catch and pull off his shorts.

He pulls back from her, standing, and pulls off his shorts.

Shiri moves forwards and examines his penis, taking it into her hand.

Cal looks down at her, embarrassment and excitement mixing together in his chest.

The tip is already slick with precum, she rubs her thumb smoothly over it. Cal shudders and his cock twitches. Shiri smirks at the response before looking up at him and taking the head into her mouth.

A sharp exhale.

She twirls her tongue around it. Does she enjoy the taste? She slowly takes him deeper, her mouth so hot and wet. When he's in as far as he can be, she draws her lips back to the tip. Then deep again. Tip. Base. Drool spills from the sides of her mouth. She picks up a little speed.

Cal's hands shoot to her head, holding her in place as he slides himself out. He won't last much longer like this. "Shiri," he says slowly. He rubs her cheek with his thumb, her lips are swollen slightly.

Shiri moves more fully into the cot this time, Cal following after her. He kneels between her legs. Her expression nearly kills him, shy and aroused. She wets her already moist lips.

His hands move to the edges of her underwear, the only obstacle in his path. He pulls them slowly down her legs, then holds her thighs apart. He has never seen anything so arousing before, he feels himself twitch.

"Do you want me?" he asks, parroting her question back to her. His fingers move to her folds.

She laughs softly, "I think it's pretty clear I do." It is. The slickness surrounding his fingers is so tempting.

"Are you sure?" he asks, lining himself up with her. He would stop the moment she asked him to, he has enough self control for that.

"Please Cal. I need you."

He needs her too.

Cal starts to enter her slowly, nearly overwhelmed by the feeling of his head being enveloped. She's so tight and soft.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his cock now buried deep inside her.

She nods. After a moment her hips start to move side to side clumsily.

"I'm gonna start moving now," he tells her, his voice shaking.

"Please do," she says.

He pulls mostly out of her and pushes back in clumsy and rough.

Her eyes widen and she moans loudly, her thighs tighten around him.

He holds his weight up with one arm and moves his free hand to her breast. She tightens around his cock in response.

"Cal!" she moans, her voice is intoxicating. Cal's movements become rougher, more needy.

"Shiri," he groans before capturing her lips. She wraps her legs around him desperately.

The way she tightens milks the cum from his cock. He shudders and collapses on top of her.

He knows that was a bad idea, but he can't bring himself to care.