Odessen
Commander's Quarters
0200 Hours

"You're slipping."

Fynta spun in the darkness, searching for the source of the words. She'd known that Valkorion would be back, but had hoped she'd have time to deal with Arcann first. Fighting down her fear at being taken over again, Fynta bent her knees and prepared for an attack that she knew she couldn't defend against.

Light shimmered to Fynta's right, coalescing into the too bright image of the old Emperor. Baring her teeth, Fynta stalked towards the man and tried to jam her finger into his chest. It went through, tipping her off balance. Valkorion chuckled and turned to greet Fynta as she rounded on him. "Get out of my head."

"Why?"

The question was so unexpected that Fynta straightened without answering. Tilting her head, her eyes narrowed while she tried to see the trap that he wove. "That's not a real question, right?"

Vakorion shook his head with a weary sigh. "All this time, and you still haven't learned your place." He paced a circle around Fynta while she watched for signs of deception. With an effort, she kept her thoughts away from her family lest Valkorion latch onto them. All the while, he paced. "You may bring my son to heel, but Vaylin will destroy everything you care about."

Fynta opened her mouth to argue but her jaws were sealed shut. "Silence." Valkorion's voice boomed through the emptiness, making Fynta cringe. She fought against his hold out of habit. If she ever stopped, he'd win. Valkorion ignored Fynta's efforts, pausing to look down his nose at her. "Now, I am forced to deal with matters beyond your comprehension, with subpar materials. When I return, I expect better."

"What do you mean?" Fynta's question echoed in the darkness. Valkorion was gone.

Fynta didn't wake with a gasp or gripping her Verpine. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, confused by her surroundings. Slowly her mind recognized the weight on her chest as the top half of Aric's body. He'd rolled over at some point, sleeping for the first time since they'd returned from Voss. Letting out a long breath, Fynta lifted an arm to rub her face. The Cathar rumbled in his sleep, hand sliding clumsily to rub her right thigh.

After securing Saresh in the brig, Fynta had ushered her husband into their quarters for some much needed rest. They'd forgone the shower when Aric protested that he was too tired to stand any longer. Fynta had shoved some pain tabs at him, then they'd fallen into bed. She didn't remember anything after that.

Now that she was awake, Fynta extricated herself from Aric's grasp and kissed away his mumbled protest. In the dark, he looked whole, a memory from years ago when they were just a couple of soldiers trying not to get caught in each other's beds. He wore no eye patch, and his worries were smoothed by sleep.

Once satisfied that Aric wouldn't wake, Fynta went downstairs to find something to distract herself. She grabbed a beer from the small chiller, but stopped before opening it. Alcohol wouldn't heal her wounded pride. As much as Fynta hated to admit it, Valkorion's dismissal irked her. For so long she'd been his sole focus. Now, he was distracted, leading Fynta on with endless riddles that only made sense after something happened. She needed to sort this out before it was too late to leash him.

Growling, Fynta slammed her bottle on the counter. She needed to hit something, to burn off the nervous energy that came from Valkorion's reappearance in her life. "Fierfek." Fynta's whispered curse shattered in the dark interior of her quarters. She decided to hit the bags; she wouldn't need to moderate her temper there.

Scratching a note on flimsy, Fynta left it on the pillow next to Aric and grabbed her gear. She tiptoed through their quarters, careful not to disturb the Cathar. Fynta refused to admit how much his brush with death on the Northern Plateau had unsettled her. Had Aric not been so stubborn, she'd have forced him into the medbay before letting him sleep. The medics had assured her there was nothing to cause immediate concern. So, Fynta let him rest.

The walk to the indoor training room was quiet this time of night. Only assigned work crews or the desperate fleeing sleep were wandering the halls. Fynta had made enough of these early morning trips to know how to avoid anyone who might want to chat.

After reaching her destination, Fynta settled into a series of familiar stretches, then started on the bag. Each jolt that traveled through her arms was a welcome reminder that she was capable of fighting, no matter who the adversary may be. Without effort, strategies for tracking Vaylin and Arcann built upon one another. When one failed, Fynta constructed another on its ruins. There was an answer in one of the layers, she just had to find it. Fynta lost herself to the rhythmic sensation of punching the hell out of something.

"Commander?"

The lilting accent of Master Kaeto Vaa jerked Fynta out of her thoughts. She blinked, realizing for the first time that she was panting and her shoulders ached. The Togruta glanced at Fynta's hands, prompting her to do the same. Heat flooded up her neck as she curled the fingers closed. A thin layer of watery blood coated the back of Fynta's knuckles. The gloves that she should have been wearing sat on the bench where she'd left them, mocking her with their disuse.

Sighing, Fynta tucked the evidence of her neglect behind her back and tried to grin at Kaeto. "What brings you down at this Force-be-damned hour?"

Kaeto wasn't deterred. Holding out her hands, the Togruta waited until Fynta surrendered her knuckles for inspection. "You'll need to get these seen to or you won't have use of your fingers for a few days." Fynta nodded, chastened by a lesson her parents had drilled into her from a young age. One she too often forgot. The scars on Fynta's knuckles told of a reckless existence and too many moments just like this.

Kaeto watched Fynta's hand flex. "To answer your question…" Lavender eyes rose, the sadness in them obvious enough to make Fynta's chest clench. "You did."

Fynta's head tilted as Kaeto smiled and released her hands. "Nightmares plague everyone here. None have joined the alliance without cause, and as such, I don't sleep often." The woman said it as a fact, not to gain sympathy. Fynta hadn't considered the impact on someone attuned to people's emotions. During their waking hours, most could bury their demons. They were defenseless in sleep, and Kaeto had no protection from the waves of unguarded feelings.

"Shab," Fynta breathed.

Kaeto nodded. "I am more susceptible to yours, as of late." The Togruta tipped her head to match Fynta's expression, purple banded lekku sliding over one shoulder. "Any idea why that might be?"

Because Valkorion was in your head too, Fynta thought, but she didn't say it. Kaeto had only spoken of her time in captivity once, on Yavin 4 before facing Revan. Fynta cleared her throat. "He's...trying to communicate again." Fynta didn't clarify who he was. Kaeto knew, and the Alliance walls had ears. The War Council had kept the former Emperor's presence secret from the general population. For once, Fynta agreed.

"So, his absence wasn't permanent." Kaeto's voice held an icy note that Fynta hadn't heard before. "Any adverse effects?"

Fynta shrugged and found a thread in her sleeve to pick at. She'd worn her kute, the tight undershirt that protected her skin from the beskar, but it was beginning to fray. "It's different than before. Glimpses of things that haven't happened rather than tampering with my memories. He speaks about the storm coming to a head soon, then vanishes for days at a time to deal with something. Other times, he doesn't show me anything, he just...talks."

Growling in frustration, Fynta dropped her arms. "Maybe I'm just going insane. Wouldn't that put a chink in his plans?"

A patient smile slid onto Kaeto's face when she replied. "We all feel that way from time to time." The Togruta tapped the center of Fynta's forehead, startling her off the slippery slope into self-pity. "Any idea where he goes?"

Fynta flapped a hand at Kaeto's jab and sighed. "None, and he's not forthcoming when I ask, other than to tell me what a shitty student I make. Apparently, I'm irritating on all levels. Lana should be pleased."

Kaeto's chuckle washed over Fynta, leaving a sense of warmth in its wake. A yawn worked up her throat and visions of a soft mattress and Aric's company filled her thoughts. "Go rest," Kaeto whispered, urging Fynta towards her gear with a hand in the center of her back. "Take these moments with your husband to steel yourself for the battles to come."

"That sounds like a great idea." Fynta's mind turned towards bed, crowding out the frustrations from earlier. She was halfway down the hall before the desire to sleep faded. Stopping, Fynta muttered over her shoulder. "Cheater." It was easy to let down her guard around Kaeto, to allow the former Jedi to worm past her defenses. Thank the Manda Kaeto was a good woman with a heart of service. She'd have made a terrifying Sith.

Fynta still had three hours before she had to start her day and the feel of Aric's inhuman warmth against her stiff muscles sounded amazing. When she slipped back into their quarters, the lights were off and Aric's boots were by the door. Letting out a sigh of relief, Fynta kicked off hers and padded up the stairs. Aric's bare back faced the doorway, shoulders uncovered and blankets bunched around his waist.

Fynta slid into bed and wrapped her arm around Aric. She snuggled close, inhaling his scent as she readied her body for sleep. Within minutes, a sweat broke out on her forehead. Fynta shifted, trying not to jostle her husband too much. She couldn't lay still.

Sitting up, Fynta glanced over at her Aric. The Cathar's didn't appear to mind the warmth of their room. Maybe she was still overheated from her training. Content to wait it out, Fynta flopped onto her back.

The mattress shifted with her weight, unsteadying Aric. He tipped from his side onto his stomach without waking. Aric's arm flopped across the bed toward Fynta, but he didn't pull her closer. Fynta frowned and decided to see how deep into sleep he was. "Riduur?"

Silence answered. Fynta scrambled onto her knees and rolled Aric onto his back. The fur lay flush against his body where the mattress had touched it, and when Fynta pressed a palm against Aric's cheek, his breath felt warmer than usual. She shook Aric's shoulders, pulling him half-upright while trying to force him to consciousness.

Fynta's words grew more frantic with each pointless command to wake up. Panic closed her throat. When she realized that the situation was more serious than she could manage on her own, a cold peace settled over her. It smothered the fear, replacing it with focus.

Snatching her comm, Fynta dialed the medbay. She answered questions in a competent tone that revealed nothing of the terrifying thoughts attempting to break through. Once satisfied that the medical team was en route, Fynta pulled Aric into her lap.

In the quiet that followed, fear and uncertainty crept back in. Fynta smoothed the fur away from Aric's forehead. "It's going to be okay," she whispered. "We've gotten through worse, this is nothing." The words sounded as hollow as Fynta felt, but she couldn't stop them. The silence was too overwhelming as she watched the door, waiting for help to arrive. "Just hold on a little longer." Fynta murmured.

Don't leave me, Riduur.

An uncomfortable thought shattered Fynta's calm. Where did Cathar go when they entered the afterlife? For the first time, she realized that there would be no place in the Manda for him. Tears had just begun to drip from her cheeks when the door opened and medics pried Aric out of her arms.

Odessen
Residential Wing
0600 Hours

Theron rubbed his eyes. He'd slept for nearly eight hours, a record given the past few months, and couldn't decide if he felt better or hungover. Having woken to an empty bed, Theron forced himself to eat something, then wandered into the main living space to see what he'd missed. Fynta barreled past Theron without acknowledging his half-hearted wave or making some smart assed comment about his hair sticking out in every direction.

"What's her deal?" Theron asked as the door snapped shut behind the woman. He wondered if it was going to be one of those days.

"I thought you'd still be in bed," Zolah remarked from her chair, ignoring Theron's question. Her knees were pulled against her chest, bare toes hanging over the edge of the cushion while she read daily reports on the datapad propped on her thighs.

Theron let himself enjoy the moment of domestic bliss before following the smell of caf into the kitchen. "Me too, but I got lonely." Memories of soft kisses turned into rougher foreplay, then culminated into the satisfied slumber of post-coital bliss pushed to the forefront of Theron's thoughts. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the loose-limbed feeling of a restful night after great sex. "Got cold," he added, already missing the press of two, familiar bodies against his as he drifted. Theron hadn't expected both Zolah and Vector to stay all night, but waking to find one of his lovers still available would have been nice.

"I thought you wouldn't notice after the night you had," Zolah called with a hint of a smile that Theron heard in her voice. He let himself sink into the remembered gentleness of Vector's hands as they coaxed him to the edge time and time again before finally plunging him into oblivion. Followed by the motion of Zolah's hips while her tongue worked in ways that shouldn't be possible. A shiver crawled up Theron's spine, making him ache for more.

Sauntering back into the sitting room with caf in hand, Theron's easy smile and the suggestion that they all take the day off died on the tip of his tongue. Vector scowled at his datapad, one hand rubbing the back of his neck in a way that Theron knew meant bad news. "What?"

"Major Jorgan is in the medbay," Vector responded without looking up. Theron felt his jaw go slack, then snapped it shut and crossed the room to look over the Joiner's shoulder. It was a medical report, one featuring phrases like kolto tank and sedation.

Theron's euphoric fantasies evaporated in a cold splash of reality. "What happened?"

"He developed an infection," Zolah responded, still unmoved, both physically and emotionally, by the commander's newest catastrophe. "Perhaps, if they'd reported to the medbay first, instead of sneaking off to quarters, this could have been avoided. As it stands, Fynta's asked me to keep an eye on things while she deals with the specifics of Aric's treatment. As if I don't already."

Shoving from the chair, Zolah vanished into the kitchen. Theron had heard that tone more than enough times to understand when it was best to leave her alone. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at Vector. "Is it from the wounds he took on Voss?"

"It would seem." Lines appeared in Vector's brow. "The commander's song is—off. We do not believe that this is the cause. We have seen Fynta distraught before, but there is something else."

Theron settled on the chair that Zolah had vacated, dropping his voice. "Can you keep an eye on that for me? You're the only one she won't hit."

The lines of concern smoothed when Vector's lips twitched into a secret smile. Zolah returned with a fresh mug of steaming liquid and attention glued to her datapad. "If you need me, I'll be in the ops room." She didn't wait for an answer from either man, vanishing from the room in a storm of irritation and herbal tea.

Theron felt a grin slide onto his face. "I don't envy the techs today."

"Indeed." Vector tucked his device away and reached for the jacket draped over the sofa. "We must see to the new arrivals." After donning the coat, he bent to kiss Theron's cheek. "Rest a while longer."

Theron watched the Joiner leave, then looked around the empty room. In a matter of ten minutes, he'd gone from fantasies of a day off to the reminder that life in the Alliance waited for no one. Blowing air between his lips, Theron sipped his caf and listened to the gentle hum of recirculated air whistling through empty apartment vents.

Odessen
Medbay
0700 Hours

Fynta rubbed her face to force moisture back into her dry eyes. She had no idea of the actual time she'd spent in here, but assumed it was somewhere around eternity judging by the throbbing headache and pinch in her back. She'd never been a good patient, but sitting on this side of the medtable was so much worse.

"It is always like this?" Fynta huffed, folding her arms across her chest and stretching her legs to mimic Cormac's position.

The big man had arrived thirty minutes after Aric had been dropped into the kolto tank in nothing more than a pair of briefs for modesty sake. Two chairs had been brought into the back room when it became clear that neither Fynta nor Cormac had any intention of leaving.

Now, they waited while Aric floated in a line of three other members of the alliance that Fynta didn't recognize. They weren't from Voss; they'd been shot down above Alderaan by drones attempting to restore the weapon that Fynta had destroyed months back. She didn't know which feeling sat worse, that she didn't know their faces, or that they'd been injured fighting under her command in a battle she didn't even realize had taken place.

Cormac stretched, groaning at the pop that emanated from his spine. "Boring? Yeah, pretty much. This is the first infection that I've dealt with though. Mostly we were just waiting on you to wake up and tell us to stop sitting on our shebs."

A tired huff of laughter found its way out of Fynta's chest, but it was weak. She appreciated the effort that Cormac put into keeping her spirits up, but could hear the tension in his voice. He was as scared as she was, on the verge of losing an old friend and one of two final members of a squad that he thought of as family.

Shoving to her feet, Fynta approached the tank to watch her husband ripple behind the glass. He'd be furious about how the medication clung to his fur, berating himself for letting matters get this far. Sighing, Fynta thumped her forehead against the glass. "I should have noticed that he was sick."

"Don't do that." Cormac shifted in the too small chair and rubbed at the knee still cocooned by a brace. "This shit happens, and you two haven't slowed down long enough to notice anything. Jorgan probably just thought he was tired."

"He wouldn't eat." Fynta closed her eyes and sighed before turning to her friend. "And the headaches. That should have been a sign, right?"

Cormac held up a finger. "First off, you're the one who's always hungry after a battle. The rest of us just want to sleep. Secondly," he added another finger, then spread his hands to either side. "Headaches are a common side effect of being blown up."

Fynta managed a smirk at the routine diagnosis of kinetic energy based injuries. Fierfek, she'd dragged so many good people into her chaotic, messed up existence. Cormac patted the chair next to him with a tight smile. "You did all you could, boss. Stop beating yourself up and try to relax a little. They say a person can feel the tension around them while healing."

"Were you always so superstitious?" Fynta snorted, but she complied, flopping into a chair hard enough to scrape the legs back a few inches. Cormac winced at the sound, then patted her thigh.

They sat in silence until Fynta couldn't stand it any longer. "How does he do it?" How many times had Aric sat by her bedside, or a comm, and waited to find out whether or not she'd survived another brazen antic? When Fynta looked over, a shadow covered Cormac's normally jolly features and she realized that it wasn't just Aric, but all of them. Elara monitored Fynta's vitals while Cormac and Aric waited for her prognosis. She swallowed her guilt, expelling it in the next breath. "How do you all do it?"

"Faith, boss." Cormac's attention was on Jorgan while he spoke, but Fynta heard a sadness that she'd never known existed. With a stiff nod, he flashed a grin to cover his slip into normal, human emotion. "We'll work this out, then put our family back together."

"Di'kut," Fynta teased as she stood. There was nothing that she could say to bring back the years stolen from them or reunite Cormac with his wife and son. Fynta spoke through actions, and in that moment, she knew what language to use.

Stopping behind Cormac's chair, Fynta bent forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "I missed you, vod." Her lips were close enough to his ear that she didn't have to say it loud enough for anyone else to hear. Tightening the embrace, Fynta held Cormac and watched Aric's unconscious form in the tank.

Slowly, one of Cormac's hands covered the arms linked around his neck. His fingers dug in with the desperation of a man trying to break the hold even while securing it. Moisture cooled Fynta's skin, but she didn't comment on it. Finally, in a shaky sigh, Cormac found his voice. "I missed you too, boss."