A/N: Needed fluff. Just desperately needed something, anything happy for birthday. No other reasons behind the chapter.
Not directly inspired by any part of current story, though roughly placed between Old Wounds content and upcoming 7.4 update.
Not pacing.
Most. Certainly. Not. Pacing. At. All.
Well, at least - not anymore.
Commander was pacing at the landing pad all morning long.
Then, she decided to become useful, so went on a stroll through Alliance divisions and picked up weekly reports from the head of each.
Then, she tried to sit still for a change and go over the reports with Lana. Commander wasn't able to focus on all these numbers though, so handed over pile of datapads to the Sith woman and run off, ignoring the scolding glare.
Then, returned to pacing.
Then, out of pity perhaps, she got invited for a drink with Hylo and Gault. She caved in, eager for distraction. But somehow, quiet sit down with just two of friends has escalated into a makeshift party fast. All the residents of local cantina joined, and it turned out to be just too much. Commander excused herself quickly, not desperate enough to drown the fears in booze or noise.
Serves her well, standing there like an idiot. She'd be at another round of pacing, if not for being so tired already. Hungry, too. Feeling cold in the evening chill, as her cape was shed and left somewhere along the way.
Damn them nightmares.
Waking up in a middle of the night from a nightmare is never pretty. But even left to handle the demons on her own, the woman rarely stays disturbed for too long. It's just that this once the nasty dream was an actual memory, one repeated over and over, and she simply freaked out at the looped image of Theron walking away.
Damn them. Even if their subject was nowhere near the worst ones she'd ever had.
In the aftermath of Ziost destruction, there was no other option than to simply watch Theron marching out of her life, seemingly for good. With all they had been through back then, it's how things were meant to end.
Much has changed in the years that followed, as that particular farewell turned out to not be the final one after all. What the two of them eventually did agree to though - be it for the greater good, or just for the sake of own sanity - is the exact same kind of goodbyes. No fuss, no prolonging the agony, just a kiss, a hug, and walking away towards whatever duties might await.
Recently they've been rather successful in staying reasonable about separation. It does cost a lot of strength to keep the worry at bay; to play cool and just let the other go for another galaxy-fixing mission. But...
What if the worries are well-founded? What if soon comes the day when one of those carefully calculated, nearly dry goodbyes is actually the ultimate one? What if trivial words and fleeting touch become the last memory of the other? If it's time for the actual end already and they don't deserve any better?
In the business of war, as Theron calls it, risks of all sorts are basically included in the job description. Commander has been long witnessing the violence and bloodshed involved, yet nothing can possibly prepare her for a more personal tragedy. When the individual in danger is an ally and a friend and a lover - all of that, and so much more in one - fear hits fast and hard. When it strikes, it snuffs out any rational thinking.
And so, a random memory and a panic attack it induced are what's responsible for her Odessen arrival long hours ahead of schedule.
Aside of some interruptions, the day was filled with watching multiple shuttles come and go. The one she's been waiting for is very, very late by now. In the end, it does not come at all.
Instead, there's an unfamiliar vessel heading straight towards the landing bay, a shuttle small and in very poor condition. Even though the pilot supplies correct clearance codes and moves around with steady hand of a frequent visitor, ground forces had to be alerted. Commander is combat-ready as well, setting aside the day's tension to defend the Odessen home from whoever comes aboard.
It's not just the troops that stand at ease when the invader finally shows himself. The relief almost knocks the woman down when the person marching down the landing pad turns out to be Theron, safe and sound.
As the man approaches with that wonderful cheeky smile of his, millions of thoughts race through her mind and the least appropriate, dumbest one emerges to the surface.
Lana is definitely not going to be happy about yet another shuttle mysteriously decommissioned.
With an effort Commander pushes away unruly thoughts and focuses on the sight she's been longing for so much.
He looks a lot less miserable than she does, to be honest. Unshaved and rumpled, but in perfect health at first glance. And he probably had a nap and a snack during the hyperspace travel, while she was missing sleep, starving, and was generally busy worrying herself sick for no reason.
There is something odd about the way Theron moves, though. Some stiffness is usual after long hours in pilot's chair of tiny shuttle, but he keeps the posture too rigid. Especially left shoulder seems to be giving him issues.
If she were to bet, she'd say he was doing the usual - jumping roofs too high, wrestling opponents too big; just whatever it was this time round, it reignited some of old shoulder injuries. Sure like hell she's going to give him a piece of her mind on that, right after dragging the man through a solid check-up at Doc Oggurobb's. But all the talking can be done somewhere else, sometime later. Commander opens arms and her most important person falls heavily into the welcoming embrace.
He returns the hug with the usual eagerness. Yet, there's a shudder on his breath in the long exhale against side of her neck. She needs to ask about it too, just not now. Whatever has happened, the story can wait a bit. He's alive, he's back, it's all what matters at the moment, for as long as it lasts. And may it just last and last, without the need to say their goodbyes again.
A whistle from the hangar entrance catches her attention, forcing to pull away for tiniest of distance. From behind Theron's shoulder the woman spots Hylo waving and pointing at purple fabric piling in Gault's hands. So, this is where the cape was left at. Good to know it's still around.
Retrieving even such an essential item is irrelevant in comparison with her partner returned into her life once again. Commander nods back at the pair, but doesn't move, and is not planning to move at all for a long while.