The Blue Line was exactly what a cop bar in the Wards should be. Dim lighting, a steady hum of conversation, and just enough noise to keep anyone from listening too closely.

It wasn't a clean place. But it was theirs. And that meant no one asked questions. No one glared at their uniforms when they walked in. No one cared that half of them still looked like they'd been in a fight.

Jace's knuckles were still bruised. Leila's arm was wrapped but stiff. Cassian hadn't unclenched his jaw since they left the warehouse. Nyxara looked untouched – but she had that tired edge that came from too much screen time and not enough sleep.

And Selyna looked like she was having the best night of her life.

They took a booth near the back, away from the worst of the noise but still close enough to the bar to grab rounds without a trek.

Selyna dropped into the seat first, stretching her arms over the back of the booth. "Alright. That was a disaster."

Cassian exhaled sharply. "We saved seven people."

Selyna grinned. "And completely botched a dozen other things."

Jace leaned back, rubbing his temple. "We're not talking about this tonight."

Selyna raised an eyebrow. "Oh, we absolutely are."

A waitress passed by. Selyna caught her attention with an easy smirk. "Round for the table. And a few of whatever's popular for Turians, too."

Leila snorted. "How many rounds deep are you already?"

Selyna pretended to think about it. "Not enough."

Cassian sighed, already regretting being here. "I'm not drinking with you if this is going to turn into a mess."

"Oh, golden boy, it's always a mess."

The others were starting to relax. Not completely. Not like the mission was forgotten. But they were laughing, arguing, drinking. Leila and Selyna were going back and forth over something ridiculous. Nyxara was working through a drink like it was a calculation, half-listening but smirking in the right places. Cassian was participating, but measured. He still felt the weight of the mission – but he was letting himself breathe.

Jace, however, wasn't unwinding at all. He was drinking. But his shoulders were still tight. His eyes still checked every exit. He scanned the room too often. He wasn't part of the conversation. He was still on duty.

Leila saw it, even if she didn't say anything.

Her gaze lingered for a second too long, tracking the tight line of his shoulders, the way his jaw worked like he was grinding through a thought he didn't want to speak aloud.

Then she looked away, tossed back another shot, and picked up the conversation like nothing had shifted at all.

Cassian, however, spoke up. "You always this fun at parties?"

Jace's jaw ticked. He didn't answer at first. Then, flatly, "You ever get shot at in a nightclub?"

Cassian hesitated. "…No?"

Jace took a slow sip of his drink. "Then don't tell me how to have fun in one."

Cassian huffed out a quiet chuckle. "Damn, Wilcox. Ever heard of relaxing?"

Jace arched a brow. "Ever heard of paranoia keeping you alive?"

Cassian rolled his eyes, but didn't push further. Because he got it. He didn't agree with it, but he got it.

He sipped at his drink, slow and steady. Not like Selyna, who was already halfway into whatever disaster she was planning next. Not like Leila, who had just downed another shot after ignoring another message from her incessantly-pinging omni-tool. Not like Jace, who was only drinking because sitting empty-handed made him look even more uncomfortable.

Cassian was drinking just enough to take the edge off.

But it wasn't working.

Because the edge was still there.

He didn't mean to say it. Didn't mean to let it slip out. But at some point, between the haze of alcohol and the weight of his own thoughts, he muttered it anyway.

"I froze up."

The conversation stopped. Not in a dramatic way. Not like everyone suddenly turned to him. But enough that he felt it.

Enough that Nyxara looked up first. "Yeah. And?"

She met his gaze for a long beat – not unkind, not sarcastic. Just level. Just steady.

"You're not dead. That's the bar."

Then she took another sip of her drink like she hadn't just offered him something solid to stand on.

Cassian frowned. "And that's not supposed to happen."

Nyxara tilted her head. Jace just watched.

Selyna snorted. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but nobody cares what's 'supposed' to happen in the Wards."

Cassian clenched his jaw. He knew that. Of course he knew that. But knowing and accepting weren't the same damn thing.

Jace finally spoke. Serious. Flat. No judgment. "It happened. You learn, or you don't."

Cassian didn't answer. Didn't argue. Didn't push back. He just gripped his glass a little tighter.

Because he wasn't used to failure. And he sure as hell wasn't used to being the one who needed to learn.

Jace didn't loosen up. Not really. Not fully.

But after a few more drinks, he stopped checking every single person that walked in the door, and that was probably the best they were gonna get.

He wasn't drunk. Not like Selyna, who was definitely going to be Bailey's problem tomorrow. Not like Cassian, who was either more of a lightweight than expected or just pretending he wasn't tipsy. Not like Nyxara, who had carefully paced herself and was now mocking Cassian for it.

And definitely not like Leila, who was just on the right side of loose-limbed, leaning back against the booth, smirking at something Selyna had just said.

No, Jace wan't drunk, but he was definitely buzzed. Which was dangerous. Because buzzed meant his guard was down just enough to let his mind wander. And right now, it had wandered to her.

It wasn't a romantic stare. Not really. It was more of a "what the hell am I doing here?" stare.

Because Leila Dawes was the last kind of person Jace should be gravitating toward. And yet, somehow, he kept ending up in her orbit.

She was laughing at something, her head tilted back slightly, her smirk easy, like the tension from earlier in the night had finally burned off. She was good at that – burning things off.

Jace wasn't. He carried everything.

She must have felt the weight of his stare, because suddenly, her eyes flicked to his. Her smirk didn't fade, but something sharpened in it. Like she had just caught him in something. "You look like a guy with ghosts, Wilcox."

Jace didn't blink. Didn't even hesitate. He just took a slow sip of his drink and shrugged. "You look like a girl who runs from hers."

Leila laughed – not in an offended way, or a deflecting way. Just in a way that said he wasn't wrong. "Yeah. And?"

Jace studied her for a moment. Then, finally, he shrugged again. "Nothing. Just making sure I read you right."

Leila didn't look away right away. And for a second, Jace swore she was deciding something. Then – just like that – she smirked, lifted her glass in a lazy half-salute, and knocked back the rest of her drink.

Jace exhaled, looked away, and did the same.

His mind drifted back to the Grindhouse, the tension that the man in the red jacket had clocked. He shook his head. Whatever this was? It wasn't flirting. Not exactly.

But even Jace couldn't convince himself it was nothing.

Leila's omni-tool buzzed against the table. She didn't check it. Didn't even glance at it. Just picked up another drink and threw back the rest of it like that was a better use of her time.

Nyxara noticed. Of course she did.

She was good at noticing things.

She let it go the first time. Let it go the second time. But when the third buzz came through, she leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. "You wanna get that?"

Leila didn't look up. Just reached for another drink. "Nope."

Nyxara tilted her head. "That's the third time he's called."

Leila finally looked at her. "Still nope."

Nyxara held her gaze for a moment longer, studying her. Then she just sighed, leaning back. "Your mess."

Leila huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah. It always is."

Nyxara had been nursing the same drink for the last twenty minutes, letting the others get loud, messy, and tangled in their own problems.

Because that's what they were. Their problems. Not hers.

She had enough of her own.

Her omni-tool buzzed softly against her wrist. She ignored it at first, taking a page out of Leila's book. But it kept buzzing. And eventually, she sighed, flipping her wrist to check the messages.

Little Brother: Vid credits ran out. You can top up?

Little Sister: I left my omni-tool at school. Can you pick it up?

Nyxara sighed.

She transferred the credits without thinking. Flagged the school on her task list. Then she turned off her omni-tool.

Just for tonight. Just to breathe.

For a second, her throat tightened. Not from the request – but from how easy it was to say yes without question.

Cassian was doing that thing again – pretending he wasn't watching. Like if he blinked slow enough, she wouldn't notice him noticing. "Everything okay?"

Nyxara hesitated. Not long. Just long enough. Then she shrugged, lifted her glass, and downed the rest of her drink. "Sure."

Cassian didn't look convinced. But he didn't push.

And Nyxara didn't offer anything else. Because that's just how it was.

The squad was loud now. Not all of them, but enough. Selyna wasn't fully listening. She had been relaxed, leaning back, enjoying the drinks and watching Cassian try to pretend he wasn't brooding.

But then the door opened. And she saw the merc. Not Eclipse, not officially, but close enough. Ex-Eclipse, like her. She knew the stance, the weight, the way he scanned the room like he was sizing up every exit. And she knew that if he saw her, he'd have something to say.

Her fingers tensed against her glass.

Nyxara noticed. Because of course.

She didn't make a scene. Didn't call attention to it. Just leaned slightly toward her, voice quiet. "You good?"

Selyna took a sip of her drink. Didn't look at her. Didn't look at him.

"Fine." She exhaled slowly. "Just hate seeing old colleagues."

Leila raised an eyebrow. "Thought you walked away from Eclipse."

Selyna let out a short, humorless laugh. "I did." She took another drink, slow, measured. "Doesn't stop 'em from showing up anyway."

Leila didn't check her omni-tool again for another hour.

Not until the night was winding down, until the drinks had settled warm in her chest and the others were either arguing over nonsense or too distracted to be paying attention to her.

Then – and only then – she pulled up the message.

Luca: Need you to cover for me. Nothing major. Just a missing shipment.

Leila's jaw clenched. It was never major. Until it was. Until it wasn't his problem anymore. Until it became hers.

She stared at the message a second longer than she meant to. Part of her wanted to answer. The rest of her knew better.

So she powered the omni-tool down for the night. She'd deal with it tomorrow. Just like she always did.

Jace drained the last of his drink and exhaled slowly. The others were still talking, still letting the alcohol and the adrenaline settle. Even Cassian had loosened up – barely.

Jace glanced around the table.

Selyna was leaning back, looking way too smug for someone who'd nearly started a bar fight tonight. Nyxara had her feet propped up on the booth, eyes half-lidded, still observing, still listening. Leila was messing with her omni-tool like she wasn't ignoring every message that came through. And Cassian was still in his own head.

Jace shook his head, reached into his pocket, and tossed a credit chit onto the table. "This round's on me. No one get used to it."

Leila raised an eyebrow. "The soldier boy has a heart?"

Jace arched a brow. "Nah. Just didn't want to owe anyone."

Selyna grinned. Cassian barely reacted. Nyxara noticed. She nudged him, voice low enough that it was just for him. "You lived through week one. Call it a win."

Cassian almost smiled. Almost. But the edge in his chest loosened a little. "Yeah. Maybe."

Jace didn't say it. Didn't acknowledge it outright. But as he leaned back in his seat, watching the squad laugh, argue, and drink just a little too much, he felt it.

They weren't perfect. They weren't in sync. They weren't even good yet. But for the first time, they felt like a squad.

And maybe that was enough for now.

The air outside The Blue Line was cooler than inside, where the booze and body heat had thickened everything, pressing in too much.

Leila needed a break from it. She stepped out, leaned against the wall, and pulled out a nic-stick. Not a cigarette – nothing that left a real smell or lingered on her clothes. But it gave her something to do with her hands, gave her the slow pull of nicotine, gave her the familiar inhale-exhale she needed to settle herself.

She flicked the igniter, let it glow low and orange, then took a slow drag. Exhaled. Didn't look when the door creaked open behind her.

But she wasn't surprised when Jace stepped out.

He didn't say anything. Just leaned against the wall beside her, arms crossed, looking out at nothing.

Leila glanced sideways at him, just briefly. "Didn't take you for the type to sneak out of a bar."

Jace snorted. "Didn't sneak. Just didn't feel like listening to T'Veyna slur her way through another story from her merc days."

Leila smirked, taking another slow drag. "So you'd rather listen to me breathe?"

Jace didn't look at her. "If you shut up for five minutes, maybe."

Leila huffed out a laugh. They stood like that for a while. Not talking. Just…existing. Letting the last of the night settle into their bones.

Jace rolled his shoulders. Leila tilted her head back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, exhaling another slow curl of smoke. He glanced at her – not really meaning to. She caught him anyway.

"You were alright today, soldier boy."

Jace turned his head toward her, arching a brow. "That what you call a compliment?"

Leila grinned, slow and easy. "Take it or leave it."

She pushed off the wall, walking past him, close enough that he caught the faint scent of whiskey and whatever cheap perfume she'd used to cover up the smell of the dive bar.

She didn't look back.

Jace exhaled, shaking his head. Maybe this job wouldn't kill him. Maybe.

But she just might.