First and foremost: To my Ukranian readers, I'm praying for you, for peace to come to your land and for you to stay safe, and that this war will soon stop and that you will have victory. To my Russian readers, I'm praying for you as well, that you will also have peace and safety and courage, and that your people may one day have a leader who is actually worthy of the position. My heart is breaking for all of you. I don't have words.

I bet y'all thought I'd gotten frozen in carbonite. Heh heh, heh...

I don't even remember when I posted the last update. This one (obviously) fought me hard. Mila is in a really, really hard place right now, one that, being someone who fights PTSD myself, I know all too well. Having that road to recovery (or as close to recovery as you can get) stretching out in front of you is daunting.

I didn't have the words for a long time, and I chipped away at this update little by little, but they finally came, and I'm so glad you guys get to keep going with Mila as she figures all this out. Thanks for your patience and support, and may the Force be with you!

Chapter 7: Crossroads

It was like someone else was dragging Mila across the permacrete, like her limbs were being controlled remotely. Sound hardly registered—not the bugs chirping or the sky lightening with the approach of dawn, not the whisper of the wind or the distant clank of maintenance work. But her own footsteps, her own heartbeat, slammed in her ears, explosion after explosion rocking her insides so she could hardly pay attention to anything else.

Poe's hand wrapped around hers. She didn't feel it.

After sinking deeper into the shadows of the base and snaking down endless hallways, they finally slipped into General Organa's office. It was all Mila could do to hold herself upright. She lowered herself into a chair next to Poe, aware of how rude she must have looked staring a hole into Leia's desk instead of greeting her, but she couldn't make her eyes move. She waited to hear her fate.

Demotion? Dishonorable discharge? Court-marshal? Firing squad?

After agonizing silence, she was asked how long she had been dealing with… with it.

The word battled its way out. "Rattatak."

Mercifully, no more questions came. Mila dug her nails into her shaking palm. The pain was dull.

"You're far from the only person here going through this." Not even Leia's serene voice had much of an effect on her. "Many in our ranks came straight to us after Rattatak and other battles like it. Some still carry burdens from the last war. They've all had to come to terms with it in their own ways."

"Huh. Was breaking one of my soldiers' faces 'coming to terms with it?'" Mila cringed the moment the words left her mouth. Leia let them slide.

"I've talked with Major Kalonia. She wanted to be here but got held up, so she passed the message along to me. We both think you could use some time away to process everything, or at least to get a good start on it. We want to send you off-world."

Mila swallowed hard. Her vision blurred.

"Kalonia wants you to appoint someone you trust to take over training your platoon. It's important to you, and you know what your men need. You can keep in touch with whoever you choose through one of our secure channels until you come back."

Mila's mouth fell open. "Come… come back?"

Leia nodded. "Unless you feel you need to step back permanently, we're prepared to do whatever we need to to keep you around. We need you, Mila. We need you terribly. And we want to give you a chance to learn how to deal with this before the thick of the fighting starts."

"So…" Was this really happening? "You want me—you really want me back?"

"I do, Captain."

She's crazy. She's crazy. I'm a liability. I'm a failure. This is going to eat me whole. I'll never come out of it. Do I even want to come out of it?

She'd grown so accustomed with the misery that she hadn't let herself think that far. What if she did come out of it?

"Where…" She took a shaky breath. "Um… sorry—" she wiped at the corners of her eyes before the tears could mar her face "—where are you sending me?"

"We thought about sending you home to Republic City to recover with your family—easy, Captain, we decided against it. There are too many eyes watching it. I'm not sending anyone there until we're ready, and only on official business. We're not there yet."

The idea of facing her family had made Mila's stomach churn. Her shoulders slumped with relief. "So where, then?"

Leia's eyes moved to Mila's right. When she turned to look at Poe, he was smiling.

"Might've pulled some strings. I know a guy back home."

"I'm not talking to anyone I don't know," Mila said, her face twisting into a scowl. "I can't. And I don't care what his credentials are, if he hasn't served—"

"He served in the last war, Captain," Leia said. "And he's helped others come to terms with what they've seen and faced, because he's been through shell-shock himself."

"Still gets to him every now and then," Poe said, "but he's learned to carry it. And you do know him, Mil." He grinned and took her hand. "Said something about you raising hell to save his laserbrained son's life, and that he's got a debt to repay."

Mila's brow furrowed.

Poe leaned in a little closer, his eyes twinkling. Still caught up in a thousand different horrible emotions, his calm seemed foreign to her. Had she really been that steady once?

"Besides," he said. "I know from personal experience that if you need somewhere with zero excitement, Yavin Four's your best bet."

A little relief trickled in, and it felt so strange that Mila's initial reaction was to cast it aside, to not trust it. But slowly it mounted up inside of her, loosening the tightness in her chest. So someone wanted to help her. She let herself imagine what would happen if she let them. Could she really beat this thing? What if she actually could get back to normal? Maybe the nightmares would disappear. Maybe she'd stop seeing mangled bodies around every corner where there were none. Maybe the guilt would release its stranglehold on her.

Or maybe none of that would happen, and she would be stuck like this forever.

Another wave of nausea warmed Mila's stomach as she shakily stood upon being dismissed. The base's dank tunnels shrank in around her as she and Poe made their way back to their quarters, her hand gripping his so tightly that her knuckles had stiffened by the time she let him go.

Without even taking off her boots, Mila curled up on the bed on top of the blankets and drew her knees to her chest. She had turned on no lights; after the painful brightness of the office, she craved the cool darkness. The only sound was that of their air regulation unit humming away in the corner.

The bed sank as Poe sat down next to her. His hand found her little shoulder. She wanted to snatch it back into hers, but she suddenly didn't have the strength.

"What do you need, doc?"

What did she need? She needed the accusing voices in her head to stop, she needed her old energy to spring back into her limbs. She needed a solid night's rest without the Sith-demon from Rattatak kicking down the door in her nightmares. She needed peace, and answers, vengeance maybe, but she was just so tired….

After a good amount of coaxing from Poe, Mila finally sat up and took a small cup of water, though getting the signal through to her brain to tear her empty eyes away from the blankets in front of her, to lift her arm so she could take a small sip, was exhausting. She vaguely registered him saying something about getting something on her stomach, or getting into the 'fresher or, if she didn't have the strength for that, to simply wash her face.

He'd gotten good at looking after her.

Something snapped inside her, and her hand went grappling for his again as she finally let the tears she'd been holding back since the meeting fall. The words had trouble getting out:

"I'm scared, Poe."

Poe nodded. "Me too, doc."

"What am I gonna do there without you? I mean, you can't fight all my battles for me, nor do I expect you to, but…" She sighed. "It's nice to have the backup, y'know?"

Mila knew from the silence that he had no idea how to respond.

"It's not like I can just comm you when I'm gone. Someone could trace the signal back to base, and then the whole thing'd get blown to hell, and it'd be my fault– "

"Hey." Poe took her face in his hands. "Look at me."

Through her tears, she did.

"Take a breath."

She grabbed his wrists. Forced air into her lungs, and back out.

"You're gonna be okay. You will be."

You're going to fail. You're going to lose. You're going to die.

Mila shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

"No, you will be. Wanna know how I know?"

All Mila could do was stare at him.

"I know you don't feel like it now, but you're strong. You're so strong. Hell, you're the strongest, bravest person I know, Mil. I've never once seen you back down from a fight. Even if it's taking everything and you feel like you can't keep going, you keep going. I don't know how you do it, but you do. I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. If anybody can beat this thing, it's you. I mean it, Mil. You can do this."

No you can't.

But Mila forced a nod.

"Can I hold you?"

She sank into his open arms, clinging to him for dear life, tears still streaming down her face.

"You're gonna be okay," he whispered.

Mila sighed. "You'd better be right."

After the sun rose the next morning, Mila had immediately gone to back to the medbay. She hadn't even been told which ward Luther was in, but she wanted to check on her. Apologize for the broken nose and the plethora of other damage she'd done. But Luther had been out cold, nestled blissfully in the cradle of sedatives, so she'd tracked down Darren and made sure he'd been notified that he'd be taking over training indefinitely, until she came back. He hadn't said much, but as she officially handed him command, she knew his handshake was firmer than she remembered it.

Calo had offered to help her pack. She didn't have much, and due to the nature of things, she always kept a bag packed. But she let him arrange and rearrange her socks as many times as his heart desired. Eventually he took over completely, and Mila found herself wandering the corridors that wound around base. She ducked down to the medbay one last time, just to make sure everything was in order. Aly—Private Lin-Sarlin—had stopped rolling bandages long enough to help her send the word to the right people that she was taking leave, what to do while she was gone, and who to get into contact with until she returned. And Private Lin-Sarlin had done it fast, and to the letter.

"You're a hell of a messenger boy," Mila had said with an impressed smile. "Far cry from that shy kid I met on Hosnian Prime."

Aly just shrugged. "Thanks, Captain."

"What brought you out here anyway? I'd been meaning to ask, I just—"

"Couldn't catch me. That's alright, Captain. And the short answer is I had to."

Mila's brow furrowed. "You had to?"

"Well I didn't have to have to, I just… After everything with Rattatak, and with losing Kit and all, I couldn't sit still and do nothing. I had to do something. So here's where I came."

"I understand that, Private."

"Yeah, well, you inspired me to join up, too. There were rumors that's where you'd come. And… Caraya's soul, I hope this doesn't sound corny… you're just so brave, and great. I want to help you beat the First Order. I hope to be like you one day, Captain."

Mila could only smile sadly. No you don't.

They'd finished a few more tasks, and Aly had gone off to finish reorganizing her medpak when Mila finally made it back to her quarters. Her stomach had gone back to its churning by the time she'd gone to bed that night. The Sith-demon tossed the baton to the FOSB agent who had nearly strangled her to death. She'd woken up gasping for air, clawing at the bed covers. It wasn't until Poe finally caught her attention enough to help her fully back to reality that she realized she could, in fact, breathe just fine.

It wasn't until he'd held her tight to him, stroked her hair, rocked her softly until the shaking stopped, until she'd worked up the courage to lie back down, that she'd realized he wouldn't be there for the next one.

Morning clawed its way forward. Poe could only get a single cup of caff into Mila before she was boarding the old U-wing transport and Poe was firing it up. His fingers flew across the controls like he'd been born in that cockpit; he hardly looked at them as he lifted off.

D'Qar shrank beneath them. Massive trees turned to twigs, and the base utterly disappeared under the camouflage the land provided. As they broke atmosphere and launched into hyperspace, Poe gave her a reassuring smile. She tried to hide it, but she knew he saw her heart sink.

What was she going to do on Yavin IV without him?