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blondie-bluue · 1 day

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Fool's Errand Pt 1

Part (1) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Warnings: Back to some good, ol' whump here. Minor ptsd, blood, broken nose, needles, profanity

WC: 3,183

“Damn it, get down!!”

“I am! Any lower and I'll need a kriffing shovel!” I snapped back, tempted to mute him just to hear myself think.

“I’ve got eyes on her, Cross; just focus on finding us a way in!” Even Echo's voice held the faintest rush of unease.

We'd known this wouldn't be easy. They'd caught someone – some big-name politician I hadn't made much effort to remember, but the Republic deemed them important enough to send us behind enemy lines to get them back.

The Marauder lay hidden nearly a dozen klicks away, nestled amidst brambles and fallen logs until even I struggled to notice it. We’d stolen a pair of Separatist transports to approach the black ops site without raising much suspicion and split up to search the compound faster. Tech and Wrecker infiltrated the northern side, Echo and I came in from the south, and Hunter was on his own along the crumbling remains of the eastern wall with Crosshair posted in the nearby tree line. He’d violently opposed my going in, but we had no means of knowing what kind of state our target would be in when we found them.

The politician was the least of my concerns, though. I’d been on edge since entering those transports. The ping of the metal walkways against our boots, the hum of the engine, even the color of the walls… it was just too similar. But were weren't on Agamar, and I hated how softly the others were stepping around me. I hated even more the undeniable knowledge that I needed them to.

That tension hadn’t lessened as we reached the Separatist black site. It looked abandoned; scarce buildings in such a perfect state of intentional disarray as to almost promise nothing but ancient debris and decades of dust lay within, but Tech's scans confirmed massive power fluctuations underground. It wasn't a huge compound, but it didn't need to be. Barely a half dozen structures remained standing, skeletal framework partially hidden by an overgrowth we now used to our own advantage as we crawled through the dense brush, thorns somehow numerous enough and sharp enough to occasionally find purchase in the slim crescents of skin left unprotected between sections of armor.

Echo and I had just finished sweeping through the second building in search of an entrance to the lower level when the site’s defenses suddenly roared to life. Numerous turrets burst from the soil that, mere seconds prior has shown no trace of anything beyond untouched wilds, and we’d just managed to hide behind a partially caved-in room before being noticed.

I could hear dozens of gears whirring to life just beyond our dilapidated shelter, the harsh crunch of leaves and branches breaking beneath heavy, metallic feet. Droids were flooding the site. We were pinned down by the turrets. And Hunter wasn’t answering his com.

“Can we make it to the next structure?” Echo asked, voice forced into a whisper.

“Not yet.” There was a long moment of silence, and I could feel myself tensing more with each passing second, legs coiled beneath me. “Now!” We were moving before the hushed order fell silent, both crouched so low that we were practically crawling, one hand occasionally darting to the ground in a gate more natural to some forest dwelling beast, but our awkward appearance didn't matter. The half dozen droids mere meters to our right posed little threat in and of themselves, but revealing our presence now might cause untold numbers to swarm. If they had Hunter, our only hope to free him was to keep ourselves hidden.

My legs burned from the effort of keeping up with Echo. He moved as though he’d been born for such things, body stalking preternaturally through tall grass and biting bramble effortlessly, but I still found myself watching him, worried I'd note some hint of a falter in his stride, but whatever strain the motion surely wrought upon his residual limbs was a torture to which he was far too accustomed to show amidst the threat lingering over us.

“Down!” We dropped harshly to the ground, and my every instinct balked at the helpless position. Mere seconds passed before the almost musical chorus of shifting counterweights and metallic limbs raced through the foliage just feet ahead of us. Droidekas. The nervous tension dancing beneath my skin turned to dread in an instant, ice bursting through my chest in a rush of panic. I didn't want to notice the way Echo glanced back toward me, the depth of concern that tiny movement conveyed. The droid presence was no longer a simple annoyance. We were in danger.

Was Crosshair switching between com channels to warn Tech and Wrecker lest their chatter create a lethal distraction? Were they balancing the risk of striking first versus continuing what felt like a doomed plight to remain unnoticed? My lungs ached from the effort of controlling each breath, body eager to fall into the too tempting frenzy of fear.

Echo’s hand flared out, signaling me to move around his left flank before readying his pistol, attention trained toward the sound of machinery falling into formation. I knew at least fifteen meters still lay between us and the next building; knew that he was purposefully placing himself between me and the enemy units; that, even among this squad of elites, Echo was the most capable soldier I could hope to have guarding my back, but, still, I had to grind my teeth against useless objections, abhorred at the very thought of letting him act either as distraction or delay if we were seen.

That fear surged anew at every shuffle of leaves and snap of twigs as I crawled forward, stealing one final glance just as I passed him. He couldn’t see the plea in my eyes, the order begging to scream from lips carefully trapped between ground teeth that he not put himself in danger, but he didn’t have to. With the smallest movement, he looked toward me in kind and offered the faintest nod, and that tiny gesture was enough to push me on.

He waited until several feet separated us before he started after me, and something about that, about knowing he was following just behind me granted me a confidence I had no right feeling, determination numbing me to the burn in my arms as I hauled myself through an undergrowth that showed no sign of the wear it ought to have from the abuse of concealing a Separatist base.

When the ridge of a tattered roof finally jutted above the line of greenery, I couldn’t restrain the deep sigh of relief, but I had to remind myself that any façade of safety feigned by the crumbling walls granted only a fool’s comfort and forced myself to pause just shy of the entrance. Echo didn’t stop until he was nearly flush against my side, and we both waited with bated breath.

“Tech and Wrecker found an entrance. If you don’t find one in there, stay hidden until they report back.” Crosshair’s voice fell into a carefully detached hum. I wanted to respond, to offer some reassurance, but we couldn’t risk even that, so I merely watched in silence as Echo took point once more, waiting for his signal before following him into the derelict structure.

Once, it stood a couple stories high, brick walls more akin to a school than a prison, but there was no sign of such possibilities within any longer. Nature had reclaimed the half-dozen rooms and interconnecting hallways long ago. Ferns draped through shattered windows, and mounds of dirt collected in the corners reached halfway to the ceilings. There was no broken furniture nor remnants of belongings hidden amidst the rubble, and I found myself wondering if it had ever been anything more than this. Had the Separatists built it solely to be abandoned; its fate preordained to ruin from the start purely to act as camouflage for what horrors lay below? I wanted to hate them for it but knew it was fueled by naivety; knew that far more had been wasted for less in this war on both sides and that even more would be lost before there would be any hope of armistice.

Only after Echo stood did I move to regain my footing as well, body still hunched forward in that instinctive drive to hide as we searched each room in turn. When he paused in what must have been the central chamber, attention trained in the corner just to the right of the doorway, I stepped back toward the hall, carefully watching for any signs of encroaching danger, my own pistols at the ready.

“We’re heading in.” Echo stated seconds before the hiss of an airlock screamed through the tense silence.

“Copy.” Crosshair replied shortly. He hated this. I knew he hated this: being forced to wait behind as we tread beyond his sight, beyond his reach should something go wrong, and my heart ached knowing there was no comfort I could offer as I turned to follow his brother down the narrow porthole into what was surely a maze of identical passages designed to be inescapable.

No veneer of color was granted to bare metal walls and exposed purlins overhead, and what few lights flickered within granted only fleeting glimpses of the lifeless passageways. This place was not created for comfort. Every detail was made through cruel intent to rob those trapped here of even the thought of warmth, and I couldn’t force the memory of that filth-stained cell from my mind; the scent of stale moisture and blood and rot.

My stride must have faltered; my pace slowed or breath hitched. Something drew Echo’s attention back to me, and shame sank into my gut like something rancid and squirming, and I couldn’t find the strength to push it back in time to dismiss it entirely.

“You alright?” He whispered it, body leaning carefully over mine as though he could hide me from the nightmare surrounding us, and I hated the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to answer him directly.

“Let’s just get Hunter and the damn politician, and get out of here.” I nearly growled. He hesitated a moment longer, and I wanted to yell; to shout that there wasn’t time for this, to berate myself for causing even this short delay, shoulders pulling back with a determination fueled by the rage I felt toward myself for my weakness. He drew a slow breath before wrenching his focus back toward the long hallway, and a shaky sigh of relief escaped me.

I wouldn’t have noticed the port had Echo not stopped suddenly beside it, needing only to shoot a quick look for me to take watch as he plugged himself in. There was no cover here, nowhere we could hide if a patrol came upon us, and each second we lingered stoked the anxious certainty that we were moments from being found, but I didn’t waver, attention shifting between the direction we’d come from and the path ahead.

“Tech, Wrecker; looks like the target’s in the far west corner. Are you guys near there?”

“We are.” Tech responded quickly. “Have you located Hunter?”

“No, but we’ll head east and see what we can find.” My heart dropped at Echo’s response, and I fought to convince myself that that didn’t mean they didn’t have him; that didn’t mean he was��

Echo disconnected from the port, and I forced myself back to attention. He didn’t say anything more before continuing forward at a quick trot, weapon held loosely before him. Our footsteps boomed around us, mocking our every attempt at quiet. We slowed at every intersection, carefully searching down each hall before crossing. It was a perfect grid, an even number of paces separating each corner for what felt like eternity.

I heard it first. It was wet. An occasional crunch of metal against meat. I knew that sound. I knew the heat of abused flesh swelling beneath the assault; knew they would kill him long before he talked.

My hand was reaching for him before consciously acknowledging the movement; a quick tap on Echo’s shoulder singling him to stop. He needed only to pause before he heard it, too, and I watched his body tense as he reached the same conclusion I had, breath quickening beneath a flare of rage and dread. Without a word, we took off toward the wretched sound. There was a rhythm to it. Two strikes and a pause. Two strikes. Pause. I couldn’t hear what they asked in those fleeting seconds between, but my mind wouldn’t let it remain quiet long enough to wonder.

Who ordered the hit?

I swallowed back the bile that tasted too akin to rancid water.

We barely slowed at crossings now, nearly sprinting through the underground base.

Who placed the bombs?

Two strikes. I could hear him cough in the brief silence that followed, heard the splatter of liquid against metal and knew it was blood.

Echo looked over his shoulder to catch my gaze, to make sure I was ready, before tearing through the door. An alarm blared. The lights flashed a deep red that paled beneath the blue of our blaster fire filling the small cell. His armor was gone, blacks torn where they’d snagged on metal fists. I didn’t count them, nor did I need my overlay’s targeting system as Echo and I stormed the room, both strafing the enemy units in a frenzied rush.

I vaguely noticed the lethal elegance of the man beside me as he dove between a pair of B2s, rolling to his feet behind them, pistol already raised and firing before he’d come to a stop. I ducked to the side just as another droid raised its arm, the wall behind me hissing as metal melted beneath the powerful, crimson shots. It didn’t get the chance to fire again, and I watched with eager satisfaction as the towering machine fell heavily to the floor.

It took mere seconds. I didn’t have time to find a new target before Echo felled the few remaining enemies, sparing only a fleeting thought toward a figure among the metal corpses that was far too soft to belong among the droids, nor did I pause to wonder if it had been my shot or Echo’s that claimed their life. Whoever they were, I was too happy to leave them to rot among the destruction they sowed, attention training instead on Hunter.

Already, Echo was working to sever the bounds securing his wrists to the metal slab behind him, and I rushed forward to catch him as his first arm fell free, wincing at the stifled groan my touch drew from him.

“T… took yuh… long ‘nough.” He slurred, jaw barely moving around the strained words.

“Not our fault you let yourself get caught at a kriffing black site.” Echo retorted, already working on his other wrist.

“S… st’nned m…” His reply broke into an agonizing flurry of coughs, thick drops of crimson smearing across my chest plate.

“Alright, enough – you can make all the excuses you want after I patch you up,” I interrupted, a gentle warning in my hushed voice, “For now, just try to slow your breathing and stay awake, alright?” His head shifted toward me in silent consent, and my worry spiked. He was barely recognizable from the sickeningly wrong angle of his nose, and already his eyes were nearly swollen shut. His ribs were far worse off, however. I could see the heavy bruising through tears in his shirt, could hear the rattle in his every hitched, shallow breath.

“I presume the alarm indicates that you’ve found Hunter?” Tech asked just as the other shackle clicked open. Hunter fell against me with a choked grunt, and I tried not to imagine the pain shooting through his torso.

“Easy; just sit back.” I murmured softly, carefully guiding him to the ground.

“Yeah. He’s hurt, but Doc’s with him.” Echo responded, already treading back toward the door to watch for incoming troops. He paused briefly at the figure lying amongst the droids, but I didn’t see what he did, attention devoted to helping the wheezing man before me.

“Hunter, I want you to focus on me for a bit, okay?” My voice left in a whisper void of the urgency with which I dug through my bag. He hummed some manner of a reply, but I couldn’t make out anything akin to actual speech.

“We located the prisoner, but… it seems we were only given a portion of the information regarding this mission.” I had to stifle a surge of frustration that I could hear mirrored in Tech’s clipped statement as my scanner buzzed to life.

“Great.” Echo groaned.

“We’ll rendezvous at the Marauder and discuss how to proceed. Crosshair, is-” He was interrupted by a violent shockwave tearing through the base.

“That… wasn’t me.” Wrecker said hesitantly after a moment of tense silence.

“All clear.” I nearly scoffed at the haughty pride in Crosshair’s voice before returning my attention to the scan results, stomach twisting as I read over his injuries.

“Looks like you’re gonna live, Sarg.” I managed to tease softly despite my own dread, earning a groan heavy with mock disappointment. “You’re going to be pissing blood for a week, though.” He let out an even less thrilled grunt that drew a quiet chuckle from me. “How about I get some pain killers in you, and you let me help you back to the ship?” His eyelids shifted but weren’t able to fully open. Still, he offered no objection when I laid an autoinjector against his neck, and my worry grew at how quickly his body went limp.

“How is he?” Echo asked, voice tense as he walked back toward us. My gaze caught on a sack thrown over his shoulder. “His armor.” He explained, much to my relief. They hadn’t had him long, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that they wouldn’t have had time to dispose of it, but it was still a stroke of luck that he was able to find it so easily.

“He’ll be alright… but we should hurry.” Even through our opaque visors, I knew he felt the intensity with which I held his gaze, that he understood the truth behind my carefully even reply. He gave a small nod and dropped to a knee at Hunter’s other side.

“Hey, brother, think you can hold on to me?” My lips pulled into a small smile at the gentleness of Echo’s deep voice, the care in his movements as he eased Hunter’s arm over his shoulders. I threw my bag back on and followed suit with his other arm.

“Mmm… m’alri’.” His dismissal faded into a barely audible mumble as we pulled him upright, head slumping toward his chest.

“Those drugs won’t last long.” I warned quietly. Again, Echo responded with a short nod, and, together, we began the lock trek back toward an exit I doubted I’d ever find without him.

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blondie-bluue · 2 months

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Ode to Artists Pt 3

Part (3) of Ode to Artists, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Heya! I've finally given up being able to type on an actual computer, so I'm mostly writing on my phone now (formatting this post was a pain 😆), but at least that means I get to sneak a couple minutes of writing here and there! I should be sleeping, but instead I'm going to waste way too much time on here because there's over 400 reblogs in my draft folder I've been meaning to get to... also, Tumblr is still unfollowing people for me, so that's fun... gonna try to fix that now. Love y'all!!

Warnings: sexual tension, mild pstd

WC: 3,095

The streets of Alderaan weren’t made for soldiers. They were made for scholars and artists and children rife with an eagerness to spend their lives in the pursuit of joy rather than victory. I kept waiting for harsh looks and rude gestures, for shop keepers to close their doors and what few guards monitored the streets to follow us with rifles ready, but we were met with none of the prejudice so often harbored toward the clone army. Our armor instilled neither fear nor anger in those around us despite how it marked us as everything their peaceful ways preached against, and part of me fell in love with them for that.

“Wrecker…” Hunter called once more, impatience drawing his brother’s name out in a weary groan, and I felt my lips pull into a wide grin upon turning to find the towering man wandering toward a stall doting dozens of various treasures from delicate pastries to wooden puzzles, helmet perched atop his forehead. His lips bunched in something just shy of a pout, limbs dragging in clear reluctance as he forced himself back to his position.

“We’ll have time to check everything out after.” The Sergeant reminded him in a sighed apology.

“Yeah, yeah; I know.” Wrecker responded morosely, and my breath caught in a quiet chuckle.

“Given the average size of this event, it would likely take several days to see it in its entirety.” Tech corrected.

“Days?” I asked, turning to him in shock. He glanced toward me only briefly before letting his attention return to the growing crowds around us.

“Correct. While only locals are granted authority to sell goods here, the festival has become so renowned that most every artisan on the planet participates.” I glanced around once more, marveling anew at all I saw. It was easy to imagine that the majority of the venders stretching out atop roads dusted in the first crystalline veneer of fresh snow had flocked from distant systems eager to monopolize on a heritage that meant nothing more to them than a chance to earn credits, but to learn that only those born and raised to truly appreciate the meaning behind the event could sell wears created from passion in the stead of capitalism again left me stunned at the innate beauty that shown through this world and its people.

That beauty wasn’t limited to their customs and architecture. I’d barely noticed the city in our initial approach. Each massive structure was designed to mimic the striking breadth of sharp peaks surrounding them, allowing the manmade buildings to nearly vanish among the landscape lest they tarnish the natural splendor of mountains coated in snow so pure the shadows looked nearly sapphire in the dimming light of the evening sun. Even from orbit, there had been no spiderwebs of light marring the pristine dance of blues and greens beneath the delicate lacework of opal clouds swirling about the atmosphere, and the want to cherish that beauty, the willingness of these peoples to trade military prowess for art no longer felt quite so foolish.

“This is the place. Fix your helmet, Wrecker.” Hunter stated as he veered away from the main path toward arched doors of elaborately etched transparisteel leading into one of the impossibly tall buildings. The room within was no less elegant. Ceilings decorated in sprawling images and symbols stretched several meters overhead supported by grandiose marble columns lining the central walkway.

“Tech, what are” Before I could ask for some history of the overhead designs, a warm voice filled the lobby.

“Ah! You must be the renowned Clone Force 99!” Even from afar, I could see the kindness in his eyes. There was a pride about him. It showed in the gliding movements of unrushed strides carrying him across the gleaming tile floors, in the lightness of his welcoming gesture as his arms flared out in greeting, but that pride carried none of the haughty superiority that had nearly become synonymous with those of his standing. It was the softness in the set of his shoulders, the absence of that need to keep his chin raised that he might never see the ground he trod upon; it was from the unfaltering gentleness of his smile that I found myself so willingly robbed of what reservations I’d held toward those with such a pompous title.

“Senator Organa.” It was easy to forget the endless roles Hunter had to fill, but to watch him slip so effortlessly from older brother to Sergeant left me standing just a bit taller beside him. “Sounds like Commander Cody warned you about us.” Organa’s face lit with a friendly laughter, unashamed of the lines it drew atop sepia skin that was clearly no stranger to such joy as his hands fell to rest atop his stomach, fingers twining loosely together.

“He certainly did!” He replied, again letting his words carry boldly through the near empty room. “I trust there’ll be no need to worry about your reputation during your stay?” He teased.

“Our mission success rate is unparalleled among the GAR.” Tech objected, and I had to steel myself to keep silent in the face of his offence.

“As is the tendency for your missions to become… complicated.” Hunter let out an amused huff at the Senator’s prodding.

“Given the kind of missions we usually take, I think that only proves just how well we handle ourselves when circumstances… change.” The subtle boast in his response wasn’t lost on the man before him, and Organa let out a hearty chuckle. “I’m not anticipating any excitement tonight, though.” He added, head dipping slightly.

“On the contrary!” The Senator boomed, “I expect tonight to offer plenty of excitement! Though not, I hope, the variety you all seem used to.” Wrecker’s attention seemed to pique.

“You mean there’s somethin’ more goin’ on than people sellin’ stuff and makin’ speeches?” He asked.

“Oh, I won’t ruin the surprise.” Organa’s nearly black eyes twinkled with glee before drawing a quick breath and leaning back slightly. “Now then, Sergeant, I believe you and I have business. Meanwhile, I’ve had rooms prepared for you all. I understand you’ve had a particularly challenging few weeks, and, while a comfortable bed and good food don’t fix all of life’s woes, they certainly don’t hurt.” His gaze landed pointedly on me as he spoke, and I felt my chest tighten at the uncertainty of just how much he knew.

“That’s… unnecessary, but greatly appreciated. Thank you, Senator.” Hunter replied after a beat too long of silence, and I belatedly nodded. Organa merely offered a soft smile before turning to lead Hunter away.

“I could get used to this!” Even Wrecker’s voice barely carried into the hallway as he eagerly vanished through one of several doors lining walls adorned in shimmering tapestry and flowing architecture.

“Think you’ll be able to fall asleep on a real bed?” I asked Echo, immediately earning a scoff.

“I’m more worried I won’t be able to go back to sleeping in the hammock.” He retorted, gaze wandering around the entrance to his room a moment before treading in.

“Given Crosshair’s new sleeping arrangements, it would be logical for you to simply take his bunk.” Tech replied absent a moment’s hesitation or hint of scandal, but I instantly had to trap my lips between my teeth in a vain attempt to stifle the heat creeping up my neck.

Turning purposefully away from the grin I knew would toy with those lips upon noting my undeniable blush, I quickly approached my own room, unsurprised at the sound of footsteps following just behind me.

“Not worried that they might have hidden cameras?” I asked, glancing back to watch Crosshair set his bucket atop the half-wall separating the entryway from what appeared to be a kitchenette. The suite was small but no less extravagant for it. The foyer led to a room containing nothing more than a bed and a wall concealed entirely in pale blue curtains, beyond which I could only assume lay massive windows to grant a clear view of the surrounding mountains. It was the bed, however, that trapped my attention.

“They don’t.” Cross replied, stepping forward just enough to enter my line of sight, and I could offer no objection to the knowing look he shot me.

Ivory linens lay atop the mattress without hint of wrinkle or stain, and likely cost more than I could ever justify. I didn’t doubt how lush they’d feel against my skin, nor how soft the pillows surely were, but those thoughts meant nothing beneath the temptation of finally being granted the chance for a rare moment of true privacy with the man before me. I couldn’t chase the image of him lying bare against those lustrous sheets from my mind, nor did I want to, and as that smirk grew on lips I’d never bore for the taste of, I held no doubt that he could guess exactly what wants left me quiet for just a moment too long.

“Cross.” The warning in my voice when I finally managed to grasp enough self-restraint to speak only left his shoulders dancing beneath silent laughter.

“I didn’t say anything.” He replied, words dripping with every unspoken pleasure the night promised, and the way he turned toward me, the way his body coiled in those few steps he stole across the foyer, that undeniable sensation of prey staring down the very thing hunting me with an eager anticipation that thickened the air around us and left me breathing that much harder only proved just how helpless I was when he looked at me like that, like I was the answer to his every unsatiated desire, amber eyes lit with an intoxicating hunger. When he reached for me, when his finger slid along the tender flesh of my neck, my jaw, touch gently guiding my chin up to meet him, what could I do if not let myself melt into the heat so effortlessly stoked by that featherlight caress?

Three sharp bangs wrenched us from that haze with an unapologetic abruptness.

“You lot can test the bed later! Hunter says to meet ‘im in the lobby!” Wrecker shouted from just outside the room. Crosshair let out something torn between a groan and a growl, jaw tensing about lips hinting at a scowl as narrowed eyes glared toward the still closed door, and I couldn’t stifle a resigned huff of laughter. With a quiet sigh, I pushed myself up to taste his lips if only for a moment.

Those golden eyes held none of the frustration I’d expected to find as I reluctantly pulled away, and I readily welcomed the giddy weightlessness at the sight of the soft smirk easing all but the faintest traces of tension from his face.

“One of these days,” I started, words hushed but no less rich with affection for it, “No missions, no cramped quarters, no worrying about being overheard or seen…” I let my hands drag delicately up his arms as I spoke, thrilling in the thought.

“Sounds like wishful thinking.” He retorted, but there was no malice in it; no sense of belittlement for such a far-off dream.

“Mhm.” I hummed absently, stealing one final kiss before stepping back to retrieve my helmet.

Wrecker’d just raised his fist toward the door again when it slid open, and the sly grin dancing beneath beaming eyes left me biting back laughter as a subtle heat threatened to color my cheeks.

The sun was just beginning to caress the western peaks, sending the city into a premature dusk rich with soft pastels that danced through now gentle wisps of clouds in soft pinks and purples. The fresh snow coating the surrounding mountains reflected the stunning display of colors until the entirety of the range seemed more painting than reality.

“As much as we want?!” Hunter had just finished explaining that Senator Organa granted us a generous stipend to ‘enjoy the festivities properly,’ and I could feel the excitement bursting from Wrecker as we started down a side street.

“I feel the need to remind you of the limited cargo space of the Marauder.” Tech commented in something just shy of resignation before his brother could rush off.

“Maybe avoid bankrupting him.” Echo added.

“Ey, I’m not the one who was droolin’ over them places by the hanger.” He retorted.

“I hardly see how one could compare extravagant spending on food with potentially life-saving upgrades to the Marauder.” The sideways glare Tech sent his brother left me stifling a cough of laughter. I half expected Hunter to step in, but a brief glance revealed the easy grin just softening his lips, and I didn’t have to wonder over the cause. It felt like ages since we’d had a moment together absent clenched jaws and averted eyes.

“Not our fault he gave them his credit stick.” Crosshair said with a conspiratory smirk. I bumped my shoulder against his at the obvious bate, pleased that Echo merely shot his brother an unamused look.

“We can debate how much of the Senator’s credits to spend later – we’re almost to the spot he suggested.” Hunter said dismissively, voice lightened with an almost foreign ease as he led us toward an empty field. I looked around expectantly but saw only the deep blues of shadowed snow blanketing the stretch of empty land, noting a handful of families nestling down atop thick blankets with eager eyes watching the darkening sky.

“Did he give you some clue about what we’re looking for?” I asked, attention wandering briefly toward the first hints of stars above us before returning to watch more people begin filling the once empty park to claim just enough space for a moment’s rest.

“Just said it would be worth the trip out here.” He replied with a shrug. My brow hitched, but he offered no further insight.

The violent burst of crimson filled the sky without hint of preamble, the rich color soaking into the snow around us like fresh blood. I didn't see the whimsical shape it drew in the darkness, nor the looks of wonder and glee in the citizens around me. As the thunderous boom shook the very air, I saw only the flames burning decimated chunks of wall and flesh alike in the Separatist ballroom, the tower of rumble that had pinned me to the ground, the ruined shell of my ship after Wolffe shot us down, and my body shrank back with a sharp gasp. I didn't realize I’d all but thrown myself toward Crosshair until long after his arms locked around me and his quiet “easy” faded into the broken stillness.

Chest bucking in short, frantic breaths, I belatedly took in the faint visage of a rose fading to nothing as the smoldering remnants of the firework burned out, leaving only awestruck faces and the faint scent of sulfur in its wake. A firework. No encroaching enemies. No threat of injury or death. Still, when sapphire bloomed into a writhing dragon, I couldn't suppress the way my body flinched at the wave of pressure that followed even as my cheeks burned upon finding looks of concern on those around me.

“I’m fine.” I loathed the tension cloying even those short words and pointedly pushed myself away from Crosshair as though it might validate my claim, “just startled me.” None voiced the doubt that so clearly tugged at the edges of their lips and darkened their eyes. I wasn’t sure if I preferred their silence or longed for them to speak if only to grant me excuse to justify my feigned indifference.

Swallowing back claims I knew to be void of truth, I turned my gaze back to the display above in hopes of forcing some earnest appreciation for the increasingly complex orchestra of flame and thunder. There was no denying how violently my heart raced in echo of each booming explosion, but neither could I deny the very real splender of it. Plumes of tufted hair appeared to bristle aback the shoulders of a vern tiger, and I could nearly see the gleam of water undulating along the smooth skin of a thranta. I couldn't fathom how the artists managed to paint such elaborate images in the fleeting bursts of flame, but their beauty and detail slowly eased from me those cursed remnant of panic.

I wondered if Wrecker was calculating how precisely the explosives would need to be packed to create the intricate shapes or if Tech was itemizing which chemicals might have been used to make such brilliant colors; if Hunter could smell the salts before they burst into flames, and if Echo was fighting back a reaction as violent as mine had been. When I looked at Crosshair, however; when I sought him out with thoughts of how wonderous the displays above us must be for him, I was surprised to find him forsaking the stunning display above us. He didn’t falter when I saw him staring at me, expression almost soft in a way that sent ripples of warmth dancing beneath my skin.

“Not interested in watching the fireworks?” I asked quietly, expecting some teasing insult or dismissive remark, but still, he didn’t falter.

“I am.” For just a moment, confusion drew the beginnings of a frown from me, but then another burst of light erupted from the darkness, and my breath caught as wisps of emerald shimmered atop the gold of his eyes. Without a word, his lips twitched into a tiny smirk.

In an instant, I forgot about the beauty outshining the very stars above us, mesmerized instead by the heat coiling within my chest as he leaned subtly closer to me, by the way his hair shone in the ever-changing hues and the fresh memory of his tall form crowding me mere feet from that tantalizing bed. I watched his eyes darkened as though he'd read my thoughts, pupils dilating with the same want leaving my skin flushed.

“It’s… been a long day. I think I'm going to call it an early night.” I barely wasted thought for some excuse, body lingering a moment longer, frozen beneath the intensity of those sharp eyes if only to savor the thrill it sent dancing across my skin before forcing myself to turn away, “I'll check out the market tomorrow.” Crosshair didn't bother making an excuse of his own as he moved to follow me, and Wrecker's low chuckle left me certain there was no doubt toward my true intent.

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