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jetii · 5 months ago

Text

Step by Step

Contribution to @clonexocweek | Theme: Conflict

Pairing: Tech x Sarad (Zeilla Pillian, Jedi!OC)

Words: 4,106

Tags/Warnings: hurt/comfort, reluctant colleagues to friends?, a little flirting, a little pre-relationship feelings realization

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Sarad and Tech are left stranded alone together on Mygeeto. While Sarad deals with her fear of not being good enough to lead the Batch, Tech deals with his inexplicable feelings toward her.

A/N: This is a small part of a future larger series of short stories from Tech and Sarad's pre-relationship era, set shortly after their first mission together. Tomorrow I'll have some Thorn/Senator to share :)

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist | Tech and Sarad Masterlist

Tech watches her sleep.

It’s only two hours into his watch, his back to the wall and his body turned toward the mouth of the cave where the snow drifts are piling higher. His legs are aching, his feet are numb, and he's cold, even under his armor.

He wants to get up, to pace, to distract himself, but he doesn’t want to wake her, doesn’t want to disturb the rare peace Sarad seems to have found. He watches as the snow falls outside, thick flakes drifting down from the gray sky and collecting on the ground. It's a beautiful sight, and the quiet is peaceful, but it's not enough to keep his mind occupied.

He doesn’t understand why she hadn’t been better prepared for the storm. It had been obvious, and yet, she hadn't done anything. Hadn't even warned him. Instead, she’d simply sat down, pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders, and started meditating. He had been annoyed, and concerned, and slightly angry, and his words had been sharper than he'd intended, but she hadn't reacted. Hadn't said anything. Just stared blankly at the wall, her eyes distant.

And then, after what had felt like an eternity, she’d curled up and fallen asleep.

He hasn’t slept yet, hasn’t allowed himself to. Not when he's so worried about her. About how she’s reacting, and why, and what it all means.

His eyes drift over to Sarad, taking in her form. She’s tucked under the shock blanket he’d insisted she take from the emergency kit, her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around herself.

She looks smaller than he's ever seen her. Small, and fragile, and breakable. It's an unfamiliar sight, and one he doesn’t particularly enjoy. The feelings it stirs in him are equally strange and unwelcome. He doesn’t like this. Doesn't like the concern, and the worry, and the fear. It's too intense, too overwhelming.

And, yet, he can't stop.

He shifts, stretching his legs out in front of him and flexing his toes, trying to return some feeling to them. It doesn’t work, and the discomfort only grows, so he settles back into his position and resigns himself to the ache.

The snow continues to fall, the flakes dancing outside the cave. He knows, from studying the weather patterns on various planets, that the snow can be deadly. It can bury a ship, or an animal, or a person. It can kill, if you're not careful.

And, right now, he doesn’t think Sarad is being careful.

Tech’s eyes dart to her still form, and he feels a rush of unease. He doesn't know why. It's irrational, illogical, but the feeling persists. It's a weight in his chest, and it won't go away, no matter how hard he tries to push it aside.

He doesn’t know what to do. He's never felt like this before. Never felt so powerless, so unsure.

He sighs, a long, low exhale, and his breath fogs the air in front of him. He hates this. Hates the waiting, the not knowing, the uncertainty. He doesn't like not being able to fix things.

Tech lets his eyes close, the darkness soothing. It's better, when he can't see. When the image of Sarad, huddled and shivering under the shock blanket, is gone from his vision.

It's not right, seeing her like this. Seeing her weak, and vulnerable, and hurting. She’s always so strong, so composed, and the sight of her breaking is disconcerting. He selfishly wishes it had been one of the others who were stranded out here with her. Any one of them would know what to do.

Well, perhaps not Crosshair. He probably wouldn't have cared. But Hunter would have known how to comfort her, and Wrecker would have known how to distract her.

And, if not, they would have at least been better company. They wouldn’t have made her cry, the way Tech had.

The memory still stings, and he tries not to think about it. He hadn't meant to be so harsh, but he couldn’t help himself. It had been a long day, and he was frustrated, and he hadn’t been thinking clearly.

Not that it was an excuse.

He's learned by now that Sarad needs a soft touch. That she’s sensitive, and empathetic, and easily wounded. That she responds better to compassion than criticism. And that, while she has the strength of a mountain, her heart is soft and gentle.

It's a strange combination, and it's one that he finds fascinating. She’s a paradox, a contradiction, and it fascinates him as much as it frustrates him.

The sound of a whimper breaks the silence, and Tech's eyes snap open. He turns, looking over at her, and sees that her body is trembling, and her face is contorted in a pained expression. He frowns, and leans closer, his hand reaching out to grasp hers.

"No," she mumbles, her voice cracking. "Please."

"Sarad," he says, keeping his voice soft and even. "You're dreaming. Wake up."

Her hand jerks away, and he blinks in surprise. Sarad’d breathing is coming in short gasps, and her head is thrashing from side to side, as if she’s trying to escape. He's never seen her like this before, and the sight fills him with a sense of panic.

"Sarad," he repeats, his voice louder this time. "Wake up."

He reaches out, his hand closing around her shoulder, and he shakes her, gently, but firmly. Her eyes fly open, and her body tenses, and he can feel the muscles beneath his hand straining.

"No!" she shouts, lashing out with an arm. It connects with his stomach, and the force of the blow knocks the wind out of him. He takes in a wheezing breath, and his hand clenches around her shoulder, trying to keep her still.

"Sarad, it’s me," he rasps, fighting through the pain. "It's just me."

Sarad freezes, her eyes going wide, and he can see the terror in them.

"Tech?" she whispers, her voice barely audible.

"Yes," he replies, his hand still gripping her shoulder. He realizes he’s rubbing slow circles on it, and wonders, briefly, if he should stop. But then she shifts, leaning into his touch, and his fingers continue their movement. "It's me."

She blinks, her brow furrowing, and she glances around the cave, as if she’s not sure where she is. As if she’s not sure what's real. He’s seen this before, with his brothers. The look of confusion, the disorientation. The aftermath of a nightmare.

"It's okay," he says, trying to keep his voice calm and reassuring. "You're okay. We're in a cave on Mygeeto, and we're waiting for the storm to pass. You were having a nightmare."

"I..." She hesitates, glancing away, and he can see the tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he says. He hesitates, unsure if he should ask, but he's never been able to control his curiosity. His other hand reaches out on its own accord to tug the blanket tighter around her shoulders, and he feels a flash of satisfaction when she sighs. "Do you...want to talk about it?"

Sarad bites her lip, a gesture that he's come to realize is one of nervousness. And one that never fails to make his heart beat irregularly.

"No," she murmurs, shaking her head. "I can't."

"Alright," he says, trying to ignore the slight disappointment he feels. "If you change your mind, I will be here."

"Thank you," she replies, giving him a small, watery smile.

He nods and lets his hand slip from her shoulder, and the loss of contact is strangely upsetting. He doesn't want to let go. Instead, he settles beside her, his leg pressed against hers. It's a small gesture, but it seems to have the desired effect. She leans into him, her body relaxing, and he's pleased when the tension seems to leave her frame.

The silence stretches between them, and he finds himself enjoying it. There's something peaceful about being in a cave, surrounded by snow, and with only the sound of the wind to break the stillness. It's calming, and quiet, and the opposite of his life.

"Tech," she murmurs, her voice barely audible.

"Hm?" he responds, glancing over at her.

"Thank you," she says, the words quiet, but firm.

"For what?"

"For staying," she replies. "For not leaving me."

He looks at her and sees the sincerity in her gaze, and his breath catches in his throat.

"Of course," he says, his voice coming out rougher than usual. "I am not going anywhere."

Sarad smiles, and the sight is so bright and beautiful, he feels his pulse quicken.

“I cannot leave due to the storm, of course. It is highly unlikely that I will survive long enough to reach the nearest settlement on foot," he adds, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. "And, even if I could, I would not. I would not leave you alone, Sarad."

She chuckles, a soft, warm sound that brightens the dark cave.

"Even if I’m an obstinate, frustrating, impossible person with no survival skills and no common sense?"

Tech blinks, and his lips tug into a small smirk.

"Especially if you are," he replies, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Though I did not say the last part. You added that on your own."

"Yeah," she says, grinning. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"Yes," he agrees. "It is."

"See," she laughs. "Frustrating."

"Impossible, as well," he teases, his eyes darting to the snow falling outside the cave.

"Thanks," she snorts, nudging his shoulder.

"You're welcome," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching.

She rolls her eyes, but the grin remains, and he can't help but notice the way it softens her features. The way it makes her seem more at ease. More relaxed. He finds that he enjoys seeing her like this. Carefree and happy.

"I'm glad you're here, Tech," she says after a moment, her voice growing quieter. “You were right, before. About my plan not working. If you hadn't been here...well, I'm not sure I would have made it."

He swallows, his throat tight. The idea of her stranded out here, alone, without him, is not a pleasant one. He doesn't want to think about it. Doesn't want to consider the possibility.

"I'm glad you're here, too," he admits. He pauses, gathering his thoughts, and then continues. "And, for what it's worth, I am sorry. About what I said, earlier. It was not fair of me."

"Don't be," she replies, shaking her head. "It was deserved."

"It wasn't," Tech counters, his brows drawing together. "You made a decision, and I did not agree with it. But, you are still the leader. I should not have questioned your authority."

"I wasn't a very good leader, though, was I?" she murmurs. "I almost got us both killed."

"Almost," he points out.

"And if we hadn't found the cave, I would have," she sighs, shaking her head. "I don't know why I'm so bad at this. It should be easy, and it's not."

"Perhaps it is not a task suited for you," he suggests.

"What do you mean?"

"You are not a soldier, Sarad," he explains. He turns and glances at her, and sees the surprise on her face. "I am not saying this to offend, or upset you. But, as someone who has trained and served alongside soldiers for most of my life, I have a better understanding of how these things work. And I can tell you that, while you are a skilled individual, you are not a soldier. It is not in your nature."

She's quiet for a moment, and he can see the wheels turning in her mind, processing his words.

"I've never really thought about it like that," she admits, a slight frown tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Well, now you have," he says. He turns his attention back to the snow outside, his gaze tracking a flurry of flakes drifting down and disappearing into the white. She's silent and still, and the only sound is the gentle rasp of her breathing. He waits, patiently, giving her the time and space to think. He knows, better than most, how difficult it can be to reconcile one's own nature.

She's not suited for the military life. She's too gentle, too kind, too soft. It's not who she is, and it's not what she was built for. She was created to care, to heal, to protect. To nurture. It's not a weakness, or a flaw. It's a strength. A powerful one. But, in the harsh, unforgiving world of the army, it's also a liability.

Tech knows, because he's experienced it. Knows what it's like, to be different, to be the odd one out. He's always been an outsider, and he's always been seen as an oddity. But, even with all the training, all the conditioning, all the time spent trying to fit in, there's a part of him that will never be able to. Because it's not who he is. And, no matter how hard he tries, or how much he wishes, he will never be able to change that.

She's similar, in that way. She's not a soldier, and she's not meant to be. And if he had his way, she would never have to become one.

"I guess you're right," she finally says, breaking the silence.

"I usually am," he quips, and she snorts, shaking her head.

"That's debatable."

"You would be wise not to argue, Sarad,” he drawls, and he's surprised at how light and playful his voice sounds. He's not used to teasing, not used to joking. Not unless it's with his brothers. And yet, with her, it comes so easily. It feels natural. It feels good.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she chuckles. "I'd probably lose."

"Precisely," he smirks.

She rolls her eyes before she shifts closer, and she rests her head against his shoulder. Tech freezes, unsure of what to do. The two of them have never been this close, not intentionally, and he doesn't know what the correct response is. Should he pull away? Or should he stay, and let her rest against him?

She seems to sense his hesitation, and she sits up, pulling away.

"I'm sorry," she says, a flush spreading across her cheeks. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's alright," he assures her quickly. "I do not mind."

"Really?"

"Really," he says.

She bites her lip, hesitating. But then she moves, settling against him once more, and he can feel his muscles relax. He leans back, letting his head fall against the cool stone, and closes his eyes, a long, slow exhale escaping him. He doesn't know why, but the weight of her body against his, the warmth of her skin against his armor, is comforting. Soothing. And, for the first time since the mission began, he feels a sense of calm.

"So," she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice. "We've established that I'm not a very good leader."

"Correct," he confirms.

"And apparently, I'm not very good at surviving in the wilderness, either."

"You have not given me much reason to doubt that," he agrees, his tone dry. She huffs and smacks his shoulder, and he feels the corner of his mouth tug into a smirk.

"So, what do you think I should do?"

"About?"

"About this whole...leader thing," she replies. "You've got to have some advice, or suggestions, or something."

"Well," he starts slowly. He knows, deep down, what she needs to do. What he would do, if it were him. But the words are harder to say than he expected. Harder, and more meaningful. And the realization that it means something, that she means something, is jarring. "It is not my place to say, Sarad. But, if it were, I would advise you to step down."

"Step down?"

"Yes," he confirms, and he opens his eyes, turning to look at her. Her gaze is sharp, intense, and there's a flicker of emotion there, something that he can't quite identify.

"And then what? Go back to Coruscant?"

"No.” Tech swallows, his throat feeling tight. The thought of her leaving is unsettling. Disturbing, even. "If I may, I would suggest you stay with the squad."

"With the squad," she repeats, and he can hear the surprise in her voice.

"Yes," he replies. He takes a breath, and then continues. "You could…let Hunter take over as our leader again. Then you would not have to worry about the responsibility of commanding. You could simply be a member and focus on the mission."

"Oh.”

“We could use your skills. You are an effective medic, and you have proven yourself to be a capable field agent," he says, his voice growing quieter. "And, I must admit, your presence is...not entirely unwelcome."

"Thanks," she laughs. "I think."

Tech smiles and turns his attention back to the snow, the flakes dancing and drifting down to join their companions on the ground.

He wants to say more. He wants to tell her how much he appreciates her, how much he's come to care for her. But the words won't come. They're lodged in his throat, trapped by the uncertainty and fear that have plagued him for weeks.

The silence stretches, and he's tempted to fill it, but he forces himself to be still. To wait. Because she deserves the chance to think. And he needs the time to collect himself.

He's not sure when his feelings changed. When he started seeing her as more than just a comrade. But he knows they have. He can feel it, a warm glow in his chest, and a strange fluttering in his stomach. It's not something he's familiar with, and it's not something he's comfortable with. But, at the same time, he doesn't want to let go.

"You really think the others would want me to stay?" she asks quietly.

"Yes," he answers, his tone firm, his gaze still fixed on the snow outside. "I do. They have grown quite fond of you. They respect you, Sarad. They like you. They will want you to remain."

"Do you?"

The question catches him off guard, and he's momentarily at a loss for words. He had not expected her to ask him.

He hesitates. He knows the answer, of course. Knows that, if given the choice, he would want her to stay. Would want to have more time with her. But the words are harder to say. Harder than they have any right to be.

"Yes," he admits.

"Why?"

Tech pauses, searching for the right words. There are so many reasons, and he's not sure which one to choose. Which one would be the most helpful. Or the least revealing.

"You are intelligent, and brave," he begins. "And you have an impressive array of skills. Your medical knowledge is valuable, as is your combat ability. Your analytical skills are second to none, save for mine, of course. And, despite our frequent bickering, we make a good team. We are compatible. Our abilities complement each other. I believe it would be a shame, not to mention a waste, to see those talents go unused."

He feels her shift beside him, and he glances over at her. She's looking at him, a small, pleased smile on her face.

"That's a lot of compliments, Tech," she teases, raising an eyebrow. "You're making me blush."

"I am simply stating facts," he says, and his heart rate picks up, the rhythm erratic. He hadn't realized how personal his answer had been, and the sudden realization that he's shared far more than intended is disconcerting.

"Facts, huh?"

"Yes."

"So, I'm not just useful," she presses. "You like me."

"As I said, we are compatible."

"I'm touched, Tech," she chuckles.

"You should not be," he replies, trying to sound casual. "It is an objective evaluation."

"Uh huh," she hums. "Sure."

“You are insufferable.” Tech huffs, rolling his eyes. But, despite himself, a grin tugs at his lips, and he finds himself leaning into her, enjoying the feeling of her warmth pressed against his armor.

"You should rest, Sarad," he says, his eyes darting back to the snow outside.

"I will," she promises.

"Good."

"But, before I do," she says, and he can hear the hesitance in her voice. "There's something I want to say."

"Yes?"

"Thank you," she says, and he glances at her. Her eyes are wide and earnest, and there's a sincerity there, a warmth, that he's rarely seen.

"For what?"

"For everything," she replies, and his pulse quickens. "For staying. For talking to me. For believing in me. For listening. For being so prepared and organized, and for not letting us freeze to death. I know I can be difficult, and frustrating, and that I don't always make the best decisions, but you've always stuck by me. And I'm grateful."

Tech stares at her, his heart thudding against his ribs. Her words are unexpected, and they're affecting him more than he would have thought. He's not sure how to respond, or what to say, or what the right response is.

"I...appreciate your honesty," he finally says. “But I don’t need thanks. I did what was required of me."

"Well, I'm grateful for it, and you, all the same," she replies.

"I...see," he stammers.

"Is that okay?"

"Yes," he says, his voice coming out rough. "Of course."

"Okay," she smiles. "Good."

"You should rest," he murmurs.

"I will."

"Good."

He watches as she curls up, the blanket drawn tight around her body, and he lets out a breath. He feels strange, a little dizzy, and he blames it on the lack of sleep, the stress, and the cold.

It's not until he's settled back into his position, his eyes fixed on the falling snow, that he realizes, perhaps, the true reason for the odd sensation. And, when he finally admits it, he's shocked by the strength of his feelings. By how much they mean to him.

He likes her. Really, truly, likes her. In a deeper, more meaningful, more intimate sense than he's ever felt before. It's a terrifying realization, and one that leaves him reeling. He's not sure how to deal with it. Not sure what to do.

He's not used to this. To having these feelings. He's not used to wanting to be around someone. Not used to caring, to wanting to protect and comfort. He's not used to any of this. It's new, and unfamiliar, and slightly overwhelming.

He tries not to let it show, but his eyes are wide behind his goggles, and his heart is beating rapidly. He hopes that she is far enough along in sleep that she won’t be able to hear his thoughts that are racing a mile a minute.

He's never felt this before. Never felt the desire to hold someone. Never wanted to protect someone as much as he wants to protect her. It's an alien feeling, and it's one that he's not sure how to deal with.

Tech doesn't understand it. Doesn't understand why her, or how. Doesn't understand the effect she has on him, or the way she makes him feel. Doesn't understand why he wants, so desperately, to keep her safe. To keep her with him.

His mind drifts to the times he's spent with her, and he thinks of the jokes they’ve made, the conversations they’ve had, the looks they’ve exchanged. He thinks of the times he's felt his pulse quicken, and his chest tighten, and his palms sweat. He thinks of the times when they’ve been close, and he's been tempted to reach out and touch her. To hold her.

And, the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes, with startling clarity, that it's not going to go away. That these feelings are not fleeting. They're not just an anomaly, they’re a part of him. And they're not going anywhere.

It's illogical. It's irrational. And it's overwhelming.

And yet, somehow, it also feels right.

The snow continues to fall outside the cave, a silent blanket of white, and he finds himself relaxing, little by little. Finds his body sinking deeper into the ground, his muscles loosening. Finds his eyes drifting closed and the fatigue catching up to him.

Tech lets his head rest against the stone wall, his mind starting to drift. And as the darkness of sleep descends, he's only half aware of the fact that, despite everything, he doesn't regret a single thing.

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#clonexocweek #clonexocweek2025 #tech x oc #tbb tech x oc #clonexocweek day 3 #the bad batch #tbb tech #the clone wars #roy writes #tech x sarad

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jetii · 5 months ago

Text

Wonder

Contribution to @clonexocweek | Theme: Quality Time

Pairing: Tech x Sarad (Zeilla Pillian, Jedi!OC)

Words: 8,032

Tags/Warnings: hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, implied trauma

Summary: Sarad is struggling to adapt to life on Pabu with the Batch, and Tech knows exactly what she needs to ease the transition.

A/N: This is inspired by the softest sweetest idea @baddest-batchers had about Tech and Sarad dancing on the beach on Pabu. Set shortly after The Possibility of Infinity and before Stars Align.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist | Tech and Sarad Masterlist

“And then, she picks up this giant boulder, like it's nothing, and chucks it at the clanker!" Wrecker bellows. He waves his arms, gesturing with the spoon he's holding. It’s a miracle the food on it doesn’t go flying. "Boom! Right in the faceplate!"

Omega claps her hands, laughing. Her eyes are bright, and she's grinning ear-to-ear. Tech watches the scene with a small smile. He's not the biggest fan of stories about their missions, but he has to admit, it’s pleasant to see his brothers telling them in a positive light.

"That's awesome!" she says.

"Yeah, it was," Wrecker chuckles, his voice a little wistful. "Those were good times."

"I wish I could have seen it," Omega sighs. She shoves a large forkful of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully, before she turns to Sarad. “What was it like?"

"Hm?"

Sarad glances up from her plate, where she has been picking at her food for the past few minutes. He’s been keeping a close eye on her since the start of the meal, and the more they talk about her, the quieter she becomes.

Her expression is one he recognizes, the same one he’s seen when her abilities become too much to bear, and he frowns slightly, his brow furrowing. Something is not right.

But Sarad seems to sense his concern, and she shakes her head, giving him a weak smile. Tech takes her hand beneath the table and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"What was what like?" she asks, turning back to Omega. She is doing a remarkable job of keeping her tone light and casual, and it eases his nerves a bit. But he doesn’t let go of her hand, and she responds by rubbing her thumb across his knuckles in a reassuring gesture.

"You know, all of it. Being a Jedi." Omega gestures with her fork, waving it around in the air. "All the stuff you guys did."

Sarad hesitates, her brow furrowing slightly. It's only a momentary pause, but it's enough to worry him.

"Oh, um," she stammers. "It was...well, I guess it was pretty normal, at least at the time. It was all I knew. So, yeah, it was normal. I'm sure your adventures were much more exciting."

"Probably," Omega admits with a shrug. "But I still think it sounds amazing. Do you miss it?"

Sarad blinks, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Tech tenses slightly, and he feels his brother's eyes shift towards him. But he keeps his focus on Sarad, watching her intently. It's not a question anyone has dared ask her since her return, and it carries an uncomfortable weight.

"Do you miss being a Jedi?" Omega clarifies.

"I...well, yes," Sarad replies after a moment's consideration. "Sometimes, I do. There were aspects of the life that I enjoyed. But overall, I think I'm glad it's over. It was not the best environment for someone like me."

"What do you mean?" Omega asks. Her eyes are wide, and her tone is innocent, but Tech can tell she already knows the answer. They all do. But none of them say a word. They just wait, watching. Waiting to see what will happen.

"Well," Sarad says, taking a sip of her water. She keeps her gaze lowered, and her voice is measured, calm. "There were a lot of expectations that came with being a Jedi. Things that I couldn't live up to. And at the time, I didn't realize how much it was affecting me."

"Oh," Omega murmurs. Her expression falls, and she stares down at her plate, suddenly finding her food very interesting. Sarad nudges her, and she looks up, smiling faintly.

"But it's alright," Sarad continues. "There were good things, too. I wouldn’t have met your brothers, or fallen in love, or had the chance to experience the joy and wonder of the galaxy, without it."

Omega smiles, and the room lets out a collective sigh of relief. The conversation moves on to lighter topics, and Sarad joins in, offering her thoughts and opinions. But Tech can't help but notice the way her hand trembles when he pulls his away to take a drink, or the way her gaze flickers around the room, avoiding his.

He doesn't push the issue. He knows better than to do so. But he finds himself watching her, noting every shift in her expression, every subtle change in her posture. And the more he observes, the more concerned he becomes. His mind is already three steps ahead, planning and considering every possible scenario. By the time dinner is over, he has a dozen potential courses of action.

He's the first one out of his chair, reaching for Sarad's plate before she can protest. She tries to get up, to help clear the table, but he gently pushes her back down. She blinks at him, confused, and he gives her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Stay here," he murmurs, and she nods, sinking back into her chair.

He can see the weariness in her expression, the tension in her shoulders. She has held on long enough, and he knows she needs rest. He also knows she won't ask for it herself. That's not her way. She will wait until the last possible moment, until she is pushed to her limits, until the burden becomes too heavy to bear. And then she will collapse, and retreat, and try to pick up the pieces.

Tech isn't going to let it come to that.

So when he returns from the kitchen, the clean dishes stacked neatly by the sink, he's not surprised to see her staring at the floor, her hand gripping the edge of the table. The others are still conversing around her, but he can tell she's not really listening. Still, she looks up when he approaches, her eyes meeting his.

Tech nods toward the door leading outside. Sarad follows his gaze, and he can see her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting as she realizes his intentions. He raises an eyebrow, and she smiles, nodding once, before she gets to her feet and makes her way over to him. Her movements are stiff, her pace slower than usual. But Tech doesn't say anything. He simply slips his arm around her waist, supporting her, and leads her outside into the cool night air.

He shuts the door quietly behind him, and Sarad leans against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. She doesn't speak, and he doesn't push. He simply stands beside her, his gaze fixed on the sky above. The stars are shining brightly tonight, and the moon is full and bright, casting its silvery light over the village.

“Thank you," she says, her voice low.

"Of course," he replies as he moves to stand beside her. "You needed some time away."

"You could tell, huh?"

"It was not difficult to notice," he says, his voice softening. “But only because I was looking."

"You're too observant for your own good," she murmurs, shaking her head.

"And you are far too stubborn," he counters, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Takes one to know one," she says with a wry grin.

"I suppose that's true."

He smiles, and she leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His arm automatically curls around her, pulling her close as he presses his lips to her hair. The gesture is familiar and comforting, and his heart aches at the memory. How many nights had they spent like this, under the stars, in the silence?

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Better," she sighs. "The fresh air helps."

"I thought it might."

She closes her eyes, her hand gripping his, and they stay there for a moment, breathing in the cool night air. He's still not quite used to how peaceful the planet is, how quiet and serene the world around him can be. But he likes it. And he can't help but think that, if they build a home here, there will be a lot more nights like this one. Just the two of them, standing beneath the stars.

A soft breeze rustles through the trees, and the flowers sway gently in the wind. The scent of earth and petals fills the air, and the sound of crickets chirping echoes around them. From where they stand, he can see a glimpse of the ocean through the homes and the foliage, the dark waters reflecting the starlight. He can almost taste the salt on his tongue, the sharp, tangy scent carried by the breeze. It reminds him of a thousand different memories, a thousand different moments. And yet, this moment feels special, somehow. It's not perfect, or even particularly memorable. But it's theirs, and he wants to savor it.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asks, his voice a quiet murmur.

"That sounds nice," she replies, her tone wistful.

"Good." Tech kisses the top of her head, his lips brushing her hair. "Come."

She follows him as he leads her down the path through the winding narrow streets, his fingers entwined with hers. It’s peaceful, quieter than it was during the day, and there are fewer people out and about, those that pass by nodding at them and moving on. They walk in silence, the only sound the faint murmur of voices drifting from the houses they pass, and the occasional call of a bird from the trees.

"You're not taking me somewhere dangerous, are you?" Sarad teases as he turns down an alley between two rows of houses.

"I am offended by the insinuation," Tech says with a playful scoff. "When have I ever led you astray?"

"Hmm," she muses, tapping her chin. "Well, there was the time you insisted we take a shortcut through the jungle, and we ended up getting chased by a giant spider. Or when you decided it would be a good idea to climb that abandoned radio tower, and you fell off the top."

"Both of those instances were your fault," he reminds her with a raised eyebrow. "You were the one who tried to befriend the spider, and I would not have fallen if you had not been distracting me."

"Distracting you?" she repeats, a smirk spreading across her lips. "With what?"

"You know full well what."

"No, I don't," she says, feigning ignorance. "What were you talking about again?"

"You are being deliberately obtuse," he grumbles, but there's no bite to his words. He huffs out a breath and shakes his head. "I assure you, there is no danger. Although, we could always find some if you prefer. I would not object."

"That's alright," she breathes a laugh, bumping his hip with hers. "I think we've had enough adventure for a lifetime."

"Perhaps," he allows. "But the offer remains open."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He gives her a sidelong glance, taking in the sight of her. She's dressed casually in a loose tunic and leggings, her short brown curls clipped back from her face. The moonlight illuminates her features, making her look ethereal, otherworldly. But her grip is warm and solid, and her hand is steady, and he knows that she's real. He's had too many nightmares where she was taken from him, where she was just out of reach, to ever doubt it.

As they approach the edge of the village, he turns left, leading her towards the beach. He can hear the waves in the distance, the sound of the ocean rising and falling with each breath. The sand shifts beneath his boots, and he grips her hand tightly as he navigates the path towards the shore.

She follows him easily, her steps light and sure where his are unsure and heavy, and he can't help but smile. Her grace and agility will never cease to amaze him. He knows that she doesn't need his help, but he doesn't let go, and neither does she.

They walk along the shore, their feet leaving imprints in the sand. The sight of the footprints side by side is oddly satisfying, and for a moment, he considers taking a picture, but decides against it. He doesn't want to ruin the moment.

Instead, Tech lets his gaze wander over the beach. It's a beautiful place, the sand golden and soft beneath his feet, and the water shimmering under the starlight. The sea is calm tonight, the waves gentle and steady, and the sound of the tide is soothing, lulling.

"It's gorgeous," Sarad murmurs, her voice hushed, almost reverent.

"It is," he agrees, his eyes fixed on her.

"I could live here," she says. "Build a little cottage, grow some flowers."

"Just you and me," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah."

She glances up at him, catching him staring, and the corner of her mouth quirks up.

"Are you even looking at the view?" she teases.

"I have seen this view before," he says. "Many times."

"Oh?"

"Yes." He squeezes her hand. "I prefer the one next to me."

Sarad blinks, startled, and a faint blush colors her cheeks. He can't help but smile, and his gaze returns to the sea, the water sparkling under the starlight.

"What a sap," she murmurs, her tone affectionate. "But...thanks."

"For what?"

"For always knowing what I need."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says dismissively, but the smile doesn't leave his lips. "I merely suggested a walk because I wanted to go for one."

"Liar."

He shrugs, and she laughs. He has missed the sound of her laughter. It washes over him, filling his heart, and his chest tightens, a lump forming in his throat. He has spent so long dreaming of this moment, and now that it's here, it feels unreal, as if it might slip away from him at any moment.

"Tech?" Sarad's voice is quiet, tentative, and he turns his gaze back to her. She's watching him, her expression soft and open.

"Yes?"

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know," he admits, his brow furrowing. "I had not planned that far ahead."

"Then why did you suggest we go for a walk?" she asks, tilting her head curiously.

"I told you," he replies. "Because I wanted to go for one."

"And?"

"And..." He hesitates, unsure how to continue. The tightness in his throat has not eased, and his words feel heavy, clumsy, and inadequate. He doesn't know how to express what he's feeling, the overwhelming surge of emotions he's been carrying since her return. It's too much, too intense, and he struggles to put it into words. "And I've missed this. Just...being here. With you."

"Oh," Sarad breathes.

"I know it's foolish," he sighs. "But I can't help it. You're here, and I just want to...to be with you."

"It's not foolish," she assures him. "Not at all."

"No?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. Her gaze drops to the ground, and she scuffs her toe in the sand, drawing patterns in the surface. "I've missed this, too."

"Then please, don't feel like you have to hide anything from me," he murmurs, reaching out to take her hand. "You don't have to pretend, or hold back, or keep things to yourself. I want to be here for you, the way you've always been there for me."

"I wasn't trying to," she says, her tone defensive. But her voice wavers, and she doesn't meet his eyes. "I just...I don't know. I didn't want to make a fuss."

"Sarad," Tech murmurs, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. He pulls her closer, and she goes willingly, her eyes meeting his. "I have never minded fussing over you. I don't know if you're aware of it, but I am quite skilled at it."

"Oh, I'm aware," she laughs, her expression softening. She lets her head fall against his chest, resting it on his heart, and her hands curl into his shirt, holding him close. "You always have been."

"I enjoy it," he says softly.

"Why?"

"Because it means you're alive,” he whispers. "And that's all I've ever wanted."

She exhales slowly, her breath tickling his skin. His arms wrap around her, and he buries his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her. The warmth of her body against his is familiar, and comforting, and his eyes sting, a lump forming in his throat as memories rise unbidden in his mind. Of a time when she was gone, when he thought he'd never have this again. When all he had were the echoes of her presence, the phantoms of her touch.

"I like taking care of you," he continues after a moment. "It's a privilege. One I will gladly accept, and one I will never take for granted."

"Oh, love," Sarad breathes, her voice breaking slightly. "You don't have to—"

"I do," he cuts her off, his tone firm. "You have given me so much. So, please, let me do this for you."

"Tech..." She hesitates, and he can feel her stiffen against him. He doesn't press her. He waits, giving her time to gather her thoughts. After a moment, she continues, her voice shaky. "What if I can't do the same for you? What if I can't be the woman you remember?"

"That is impossible," he says without hesitation. "Because I am not the man you remember. Neither of us are the people we once were. But that does not matter."

"It doesn't?"

"No," he replies. "It does not."

"But—"

"No," he cuts her off. "It does not matter."

"But—"

"Sarad," he sighs, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin. She leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed. "I will not allow you to question my feelings for you. Not now. Not after everything we've been through."

Sarad sighs, her shoulders slumping. She presses her face into his chest, and he can feel her trembling. Her fingers are curled into the fabric of his shirt, her knuckles white, and her breath is coming in short, shaky bursts.

"I know, but..."

"Do you not trust me?" Tech murmurs, his hands moving to cradle her face, his thumbs tracing circles on her skin. "Have I done something to make you doubt me?"

"No, it's not that," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "Of course I trust you."

"And do you trust my judgment? My ability to make a sound decision, based on facts and logic?"

"Yes," she mumbles, her lips brushing his shirt.

Tech exhales slowly, trying to maintain his composure. He understands her fear. But he needs her to understand him, too. He needs her to understand that, no matter what happens, no matter how much she has changed, his love for her is unconditional. Unshakable. It has survived war, and distance, and time. It has survived her death, and his own despair, and it has returned to him stronger than ever. And he will not let it be questioned.

He tilts her chin up, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and he knows she is fighting the urge to flee. But he is not. Not anymore.

"I love you," he breathes, his gaze fixed on hers. "I have always loved you, and I will always love you. It is a constant. It is a part of me, and it will never fade. Do you understand?"

Sarad swallows thickly, her lower lip trembling. But she doesn't look away, and her hands tighten their grip on his shirt. "Yes."

"Good." He kisses her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away. "Then there is nothing else to discuss."

"Tech," she murmurs, her voice wavering. "Please, don't—"

"I am not angry," he cuts her off. "And I am not disappointed. I am simply stating the facts."

"But..."

"I will not argue this with you," he says, his tone softening slightly. "Not tonight. I do not want to spend our time together in conflict."

"Alright," she concedes. "Then can we just...walk? Like we used to?"

"Of course," he says, a smile tugging at his lips.

He releases her chin and takes her hand, leading her forward, down the path towards the water. Tech lets her hold onto him as she tugs off her shoes, and she dips her toes into the water, gasping at the chill. The sound makes him laugh, and he watches her as she wades deeper, her expression full of wonder. He knows that she’s doing it more for him than herself, but he appreciates the gesture all the same.

They spend the next hour wandering along the shoreline, talking and laughing and reminiscing. And although there is still a hint of sadness and uncertainty in her eyes, she seems more relaxed now than she has all day. He counts it as a victory.

Sarad squeaks as a particularly large wave crashes against her feet, and Tech catches her as she stumbles backwards, laughing. She leans into him, her arms wrapping around his waist, and he smiles and holds her close. He has missed this. The closeness, the intimacy. The feeling of being a part of each other, their hearts and minds linked in a way that can't be described or explained.

He has missed her, and he has missed being able to be himself around her, and he has missed having the chance to simply be together, with no one else around. No missions, no obligations, no duties or responsibilities or expectations. Just the two of them, beneath the stars, with nothing and no one to stand in their way.

She turns to face him, her hands moving up to rest on his shoulders, and she stares up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. There is a question in her expression, a tentative request for permission, and Tech nods once, his heart fluttering in his chest.

He meets her halfway, their lips brushing together in a tender kiss. It's a familiar sensation, a warm and comforting feeling, full of unspoken promises and reassurances.

His hands find their way into her hair, tangling in the soft strands, and she presses herself closer, her hands gripping his shirt. It's slow and languid, a lazy exploration, and Tech revels in the feeling of her in his arms, the sensation of her body against his.

"I missed this," he whispers against her lips, his hands sliding down her back. "The quiet moments. The time alone. You have no idea how much."

"I missed you," she murmurs. Her voice is low, and her eyes are filled with a longing that makes his heart ache. "So much, Tech. Every day."

"Me too," he breathes, leaning in to brush his lips against hers. "Every day."

Her eyes flutter shut as he kisses her again, and her hands move to cup his face, holding him close. He can taste the salt on her skin, the salt of her tears, and he doesn't hesitate to brush them away.

"I'm here now," she says, her voice wavering. "I'm not going anywhere. Not again."

"You better not," he murmurs, and she huffs a quiet laugh. He grasps her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing her palm, before he tugs her closer into his arms. She goes willingly, nestling against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. He presses his cheek to the top of her head and inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of her, and a sense of calm washes over him.

"I love you," she says, her voice muffled by his shirt. Her hand squeezes his, and he feels her press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "So much."

"I know," he murmurs, his fingers carding through her hair. "And I love you."

"I never stopped," she admits, her voice barely a whisper. "Not once."

"Neither did I."

"I believe you," Sarad whispers. "I trust you."

"Good," Tech says, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I would have hated to have wasted all that effort."

She laughs, her shoulders shaking, and she presses her face into his chest, her laughter muffled by his shirt. The words he can't bring himself to say sit on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the right moment. But it doesn't come. Instead, he closes his eyes and listens to the sound of her breathing, the wind and the waves, and the rhythm of her heartbeat. And he vows to himself that he will never take a moment like this for granted again.

They stand there for a while longer, holding each other, the ocean lapping at their feet. He doesn't realize they're rocking until she giggles quietly and nudges him with her shoulder. He blinks, startled by the sudden movement, and glances down at her.

"What are you doing?" Sarad asks, her tone teasing.

"Hm?"

"You're swaying," she informs him, and a faint smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "Like we're dancing."

"Am I?" Tech glances down, taking stock of his position. Sure enough, he's moving, his feet swaying in a slow, steady motion. His eyes meet hers, and he realizes that, while she was focused on his movements, her feet had fallen into step beside his, mirroring his motions. "So are you."

"Oh," she laughs. "Well, then. I suppose we are dancing."

"Is that so bad?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"No," she says, smiling. "It's not."

"Then shall we continue?"

"Sure."

He adjusts his grip on her hand as his arm wraps around her waist, and he rests his chin on the top of her head. She leans into him, and they begin to move in time with the music of the waves, swaying gently back and forth, the stars shining overhead.

They stay like that for a while, simply enjoying each other's company and the peaceful silence between them. Their steps begin to slow, and soon, they're barely moving at all, their bodies pressed together, his hand on her lower back, hers on his shoulder.

"This is nice," Sarad whispers. Her voice is sleepy, her eyes heavy-lidded, and her body sags against his, her limbs becoming loose and pliant. "I could stay here forever."

"As could I," he replies, his own voice a low rumble. "But we should head back. You're exhausted."

"No, I'm not," she protests.

"Sarad," Tech chides gently. "Don't lie to me. You need to rest."

"I don't want to," she mutters petulantly, her brow furrowing in annoyance. "I want to stay here, with you. Like this."

Her grip tightens, and Tech can't help but chuckle at her stubbornness. She's always been difficult when she's tired.

"We will," he reassures her. Her lower lip sticks out in a pout, and he kisses the tip of her nose, making her wrinkle it. "Tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. We have all the time in the world."

"Promise?" she asks. Her tone is joking, but there's a note of uncertainty underneath. He doesn't blame her. Their time together has been so fragile, so fleeting. She's worried it won't last. He is, too. But he pushes the thought away and smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Yes," he says. "I promise. We will have countless days together. I will see to it."

"You better," she laughs, her hand sliding up to cup his cheek. She gazes up at him, her expression softening, and Tech feels his heart skip a beat. "Or else."

"Or else what?" he teases.

"Or else I'll find a way to drag you out of whatever project you're working on and force you to spend time with me," she replies, her voice taking on a mock-stern tone. "And you won't like it."

"I highly doubt that," he chuckles. His fingers curl around her hip, pulling her closer, and her hand moves from his shoulder to his chest, her palm flat against his heart. "I have missed having someone to interrupt my work."

"Liar," she snorts.

"I missed _you_ interrupting my work," he amends, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I did not miss being interrupted."

"Semantics."

"Facts," he counters, leaning in to kiss her again.

She sighs against his lips, and her hand slides down his chest, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't deepen the kiss, despite the temptation. Instead, he pulls back, smiling down at her. Her eyes are still closed, and she makes a small noise of protest when his lips leave hers. It's adorable, and he can't resist kissing her one more time, a chaste brush of his lips against hers.

"We should go," Tech murmurs as he pulls away. "Before we both fall asleep."

"You're right," she sighs. "I guess."

"Come on," he says, taking her hand and tugging her forward. She follows him without protest, her bare feet sinking into the sand, and he wraps an arm around her waist, keeping her close. The air is cooler now, and he can feel goosebumps rising on her skin. He rubs her arm gently, hoping to warm her up, and she leans into his touch, sighing softly.

When they reach the end of the beach, Sarad pauses and looks down, her brow furrowing.

"My shoes," she mumbles, gesturing vaguely towards the beach. "We forgot them."

"I will get them," Tech says.

"No, I'll—“

"You will not," he cuts her off, giving her a pointed look. "You will wait here, and I will retrieve them."

"Fine," she huffs, rolling her eyes. "You win."

"It was not a contest," he reminds her. "But I am glad you concede defeat."

"I do not concede defeat," she retorts. "I simply decided that it wasn't worth arguing over. That's all."

"Of course," he says, nodding sagely. "That is very wise of you."

"Hmph."

He smirks and kisses the top of her head before jogging back to the shore, scooping up the discarded footwear and returning to her side in a matter of moments. She's leaning against a tree, her arms wrapped around herself, and he can see the weariness in her features, the dark circles under her eyes. It's not surprising, given how tired she was before their excursion, and he frowns, berating himself for allowing her to stay out so late and walk so far.

"Here," he says, and he kneels down in front of her, holding her shoe out. "Step."

"Really?" Sarad scoffs.

"Yes, really," he replies. "Now, put your foot in, or I will make you."

She rolls her eyes, but she does as he asks, balancing carefully on one foot while he works to get the sand out of her shoe and help her slip it on. The mere idea of sand getting stuck in the shoe is enough to send a shiver down his spine, and he knows she would be in misery if it happened. So he takes the extra precaution of running his fingers along the inside to check for any missed grains, brushing them out carefully and making sure everything is clean and dry before placing it on her foot.

Sarad has had enough stimulation for one day, and the last thing he wants to do is add another layer of discomfort and stress. Even something as simple as sand could be too much, and he would rather not risk it. She's already pushing her limits as it is.

When he finishes putting her shoes back on, he stands, and she gives him a grateful smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you.”

"It was nothing," he says.

"Still," she replies. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says, and he takes her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. "Now, let's get you home. You need sleep."

"I don't wanna," she whines. It's an amusing contrast to her usual mature, collected demeanor, and Tech feels his lips quirk upwards.

"I'm sorry," he says, not sounding sorry in the slightest, "but you do."

"Fine," she sighs, a long, dramatic sound that's half-exasperated, half-amused. "But only because you asked nicely."

"I always ask nicely," he retorts. "It is my default."

"That's true," she admits. She's still leaning against the tree, and her gaze is fixed on the ground, her shoulders slumped. "You're the nicest person I know."

"I am also the most intelligent," he adds playfully, and she laughs.

"And the most arrogant," she teases.

"Perhaps," he allows. He glances down at her, taking in her tired appearance, and the faint smile that's tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are hooded, her lids heavy, and he knows she's barely staying upright. "Come on, darling. Let's get you home."

"Alright," she concedes, and she lets him wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her back towards the village.

It's quieter now, most of the houses dark and silent, the only light coming from the occasional lantern. They walk slowly, Sarad's head resting on his shoulder, her pace unsteady and uneven. Tech keeps a tight grip on her, not trusting her not to trip and fall, and though his pace is slower than usual, he doesn't mind. He's starting to find he enjoy the quiet moments, the simple joy of being near her, and the opportunity to be present. To truly be there, with her, instead of lost in his own thoughts.

It's not something he ever imagined he would have, but it's something he cherishes. It's a reminder of what he's lost, and a promise of what he's found. It's a glimpse into the life they could have had, and the life they will have. And if the past few days have taught him anything, it's that he wants it. More than he ever thought possible.

"Can we stay like this forever?" Sarad asks, her words punctuated by a yawn. Her steps are slowing, and she's leaning more heavily against him with each passing second.

"I would like that," Tech murmurs.

"Me too," she sighs. Her eyelids flutter, her gaze drooping. "Just...us."

"Just us," he repeats. "Always."

She nods, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. Her breath is warm against his neck, and her body is soft and relaxed against his. He's not sure if it's his imagination, but he thinks he can feel the rhythm of her heart, slow and steady, echoing his own.

It's not an easy pace to maintain, but he's willing to try.

They're almost back to the house when she stumbles, her knees buckling. Tech's reflexes are sharp, though, and he catches her before she falls, his arm wrapping around her waist. He pulls her upright and against his chest, supporting her weight, and her eyes open, a flash of panic in them before she realizes where she is.

"Oh," she breathes, a faint smile crossing her lips. "You caught me."

"I did," Tech confirms. He presses a kiss to her forehead, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "And I will continue to do so. For as long as you need."

"I always need you," Sarad whispers, and her fingers curl into the front of his shirt, clinging to the fabric.

"Then I will always be there," he promises. "No matter what."

"Good," she mumbles.

He chuckles and tucks her head beneath his chin. Her eyes are closed again, her breathing evening out, and he can tell that she's fighting to stay awake. Her grip on him loosens as she sags against him, and her body relaxes, going limp.

"Are you falling asleep on me?" he asks, his tone teasing.

"No," she protests, her voice muffled by his shirt. Her hands slip down, curling around his waist, and her fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. "'m just...resting."

"Alright," he sighs. "Hold on."

He reaches down and scoops her into his arms, lifting her easily, and her arms wrap around his neck. She's so small compared to him, so light, and it takes very little effort for him to hold her, his arm tucked under her knees, his other hand supporting her back. Her head rests on his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck, and he smiles.

He carries her the rest of the way back to the house, the soft glow of the lanterns guiding his way. When they reach the door, he carefully pushes it open with his foot and steps inside.

"You're spoiling me," she mutters, her eyes opening a crack as he nudges the door shut behind them.

"I'm merely ensuring that you do not injure yourself," he corrects her, and then pauses, adding, "But if you want to interpret it as a display of affection and generosity on my part, I suppose I could not stop you."

She laughs, a soft, breathy sound, and closes her eyes again, her head falling back onto his shoulder. He holds her a moment longer, savoring the warmth of her body, the smell of her hair, the steady beat of her heart.

"Where should I take you?" he asks quietly. "Your room, or mine?"

"Yours," she mumbles. She nuzzles against his collarbone, her face pressed into his shirt. He feels her lips brush his skin as she speaks, and his heart skips a beat, his throat tightening. "I want to stay with you."

"Of course," he breathes. "Whatever you wish."

Tech walks quietly through the house, careful not to disturb the others. There's a faint glow coming from the upper floor, a light left on for them, and his footfalls are quiet as he climbs the steps, one at a time. Sarad doesn't stir, her breathing slow and even, and her head remains tucked under his chin, her hand curled into his shirt.

When they reach his room, he eases the door open and steps inside, shutting it quietly behind him. He walks over to the bed and kneels down, setting her on the edge, and she mumbles a complaint as he attempts to untangle himself from her arms.

"I'm not going anywhere," he reassures her, gently pulling her hands free from where they're clutching his shirt. "I'm just taking your shoes off."

She lets out a disgruntled sound but doesn't resist, and he sets her feet on the floor and removes her shoes once more, placing them neatly beside his own by the door. When he looks back at her, she's blinking up at him, her expression bleary.

"You need to change," he says. He brushes a lock of hair out of her face. "I can help, if you would like."

"Yeah," she murmurs, and her gaze shifts down, her cheeks turning pink. "Please."

"Very well."

Tech stands and walks over to the dresser, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through the contents until he finds what he's looking for: an old t-shirt, soft and worn from use, that he remembers her wearing a dozen times before. It's a bit large on her, but she's never complained, and he's grown fond of seeing her in it. It suits her.

"Can you sit up?" he asks, crouching in front of her and holding the shirt out for her inspection.

"Mhm," she hums, and she does, her eyes barely open. She leans forward, pressing her face into his neck, and wraps her arms around him, her grip loose and languid. He returns the embrace, one hand coming up to cradle her head, his fingers carding through her hair.

"How are you feeling?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble.

"Tired," she says. "My head hurts."

"That is to be expected," he says, his tone sympathetic. “And the rest?"

"I don't know," she admits, her voice cracking slightly. She takes a shaky breath, and her arms tighten around him, her hands clutching at his shirt. "I'm trying not to think about it."

"You don't have to," he says. His fingers trace patterns on her skin, and her shoulders slump, the tension in her muscles melting away. "You are here. With me. And I will not allow anyone to harm you."

"Okay," she whispers.

"Okay," he echoes, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head, holding her close for a moment longer. His hand finds the clip holding her hair back and removes it gently, letting the short, brown curls fall loose around her face. She hums in approval, leaning into his touch, and he feels his chest tighten at the sound.

"You have to let go, darling," he says, a note of apology in his voice.

"Fine," she mumbles, and he feels her arms drop from his neck, her hands falling limply into her lap. She's barely holding herself upright, and he steadies her as he pulls away, his hands finding the hem of her tunic and tugging it over her head.

Her body is littered with scars, new and old, some of which he can't even remember the source. There's the thin, jagged line on her right bicep, from a blaster bolt that came far too close for his liking. The burn mark on her abdomen, the result of a failed cooking experiment, that makes him smile. The circular marks along her spine, a memento of her time with the Hutts, that fill him with a deep, seething anger. And the countless others, reminders of battles fought, battles won and lost, battles that nearly cost him everything.

He traces his fingers over each and every one, lingering on the raised tissue of the freshest scars, the ones from her imprisonment and the escape. He feels the guilt gnaw at his heart, a familiar ache, and he knows it will not fade for a long, long time. Perhaps it never will.

"Hey," Sarad whispers, and he glances up, meeting her eyes. She gives him a weak smile, her gaze heavy-lidded and sleepy, but she holds his gaze. "It's not your fault."

"No," he sighs. "It's not."

"I'm okay," she murmurs, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "We're okay."

"Yes," he breathes, and his eyes fall closed, his forehead coming to rest against hers. "We are."

They stay like that for a moment, neither speaking. They simply exist in the same space, the same time, and Tech lets himself revel in the closeness, the feeling of her breath against his skin, her warmth and solidity and presence. Her fingers are tangled in his hair, her touch soothing and grounding, and he finds his thoughts drifting, a wave of exhaustion washing over him.

He's so tired. He hasn't slept properly since her return, his mind too occupied with making sure she's safe, that she's still here, still alive, to rest. But now, with her here, in his arms, the adrenaline is starting to fade, the last of his energy draining away. And the only thing he wants to do is lay down next to her and sleep for days.

"Tech," Sarad whispers. He opens his eyes and pulls back slightly, just enough to see her face. Her eyes are wide, her expression worried, and he realizes his head must have drooped, his weight slumping forward. He hadn't even noticed. "You're exhausted. You need to sleep."

"I will," he promises.

"When?" she presses.

"After," he says. He reaches for the t-shirt again and slips it over her head, the worn fabric hanging loosely from her shoulders. It's oversized and shapeless, and the sight of her in it fills his chest with warmth. He brushes her hair out of her face, tucking a few stray strands behind her ear, and she tilts her head into his touch, sighing contentedly. "You should not worry about me."

"Of course I'm going to worry about you," she retorts, and she gives him a pointed look. "Now, go change and get into bed."

"You do not have the authority to order me around anymore," he informs her, his lips quirking up into a faint smirk. "I'm not a soldier."

"Maybe not," she replies, and her hands move to his shoulders, giving him a light shove, "but you're my partner, and you're clearly half asleep. How are you supposed to keep your promise if you're too tired to take care of yourself?"

"I am not—"

"You are," she interrupts. Her tone is firm, and her eyes narrow, her gaze piercing and serious. "I don't need you to sacrifice your health for me."

"I wasn't planning to," he protests.

"Then prove it," she says. Sarad leans forward and kisses his cheek, her lips lingering against his skin. He feels the corners of his mouth tug upwards, and he closes his eyes, sighing softly as her fingers slide down his neck, tracing a path to his collarbone. "Please."

"You do not play fair," Tech grumbles, and she smiles.

"Neither do you," she says. "Now, go. I'll be waiting."

"Very well," he sighs, and he lets her push him gently away, her hands lingering on his shoulders as she does. She watches him stand and cross the room to the dresser, her gaze following him as he begins removing his shirt and changing into his nightclothes.

The feeling of her eyes on him sends a thrill down his spine, a familiar tingle that spreads throughout his body, warming his skin. She's always been good at getting him to do what she wants, and tonight is no exception. But, despite his annoyance at her ability to manipulate him so easily, he finds that he doesn't mind it. In fact, he quite enjoys it. She knows him, understands him, in a way no one else does, and there's a comfort in that knowledge. An intimacy that's uniquely theirs, and theirs alone.

When he's finished, he turns to face her, and her eyes are already closed, her head bowed, and her hands folded in her lap. She's slumped over, her breathing heavy, and he can tell she's asleep before he even reaches her side.

He smiles fondly and moves behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and nudging her upright. She mumbles a complaint as her body jerks awake, but she doesn't open her eyes, and she leans back into his touch, letting him support her weight.

"Come on," he murmurs, guiding her backwards onto the bed and under the covers. "It's time for sleep."

"M'kay," she mumbles, and her hands curl into the fabric of his shirt, her fingers digging into the material. "Don't leave."

"I won't," he promises. "I will be right here."

"Good."

Tech chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead before sliding under the blankets and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He watches her for a moment, taking in the steady rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her lashes. The peaceful expression on her face, one he hasn't seen in years. And he feels a familiar warmth spreading through his chest, a contentment that settles deep in his bones.

He reaches out and traces his thumb along the curve of her cheek, his fingertips brushing her skin, and she sighs quietly, nestling against his chest. He buries his face in her hair and breathes in the scent of her, letting her closeness, her warmth, wash over him. She's real, and solid, and she's here, with him.

"This feels nice," she murmurs. Her voice is barely a whisper, her words muffled by his shirt. "We should do this every night."

"I would not be opposed," he replies. "If that is what you want."

"Mhm."

"Then it is settled," he says, and he closes his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "We will."

"Good," she breathes.

They lie there in silence for a while, their bodies pressed together, their breathing synchronized. And as he feels his consciousness slipping away, his exhaustion finally catching up to him, he lets the last of his worries melt away. Because he has her back, and nothing else matters.

"I love you," he whispers.

Her lips curve into a smile, and her grip tightens.

"I know."

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