#shillet jorgan

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 18 (End Times)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Vaylin Attacks! Everyone else scrambles.

Chapter Word Count: 5,237 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Theron Shan, Zolah Holran, Vector, Malavai Quinn, Torian Cadara, Vette, Lana Beniko, Shillet Jorgan, Verin Ejnar/Wolfe, Tranx Vaak, Elara Dorne, Arcann, Senya, Vaylin, Balic Cormac, Darth Kozen, Master Kaeto Vaa, and special appearance by @kunoichi-ume Noara Starspark. And probably others that I've forgotten...

Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

Odessen War Room 03:55 Hours

"Squads two and four to Alpha Quadrant Three. Seven and Ten, you're needed on the landing dock to clear the wreckage. And would someone shut off those fucking alarms?" Zolah didn't look up from her monitor while divvying out orders. To her right, Vector communicated with the medical staff, organizing and dispatching as needed based on the reports pouring in and security footage. Theron huddled at his desk, talking in short sentences with Fynta while she dressed in full view of the camera.

Quinn appeared at Zolah's back, brushing the tips of his fingers against the back of her arm before speaking. It was a friendly warning that he was in her blind spot. "Electrical grids for floors one and two have been damaged by orbital bombardment. I've cut power to the lower levels under construction and routed everything to the infirmaries."

"Good work." Quinn hadn't become Zolah's lover, but they'd developed a professional friendship with Vector at their center. She trusted the man and Vector's judgment. "News on the Enclave?"

"Unharmed. I've tasked units with escorting the young and injured there for safekeeping." Quinn tapped his datapad, then looked up. "It should be deep enough in the mountain to withstand the worst of the assault."

Though Zolah didn't fancy children of her own, the galaxy was nothing without a generation to leave it to. It eased something in her chest knowing that they would be protected. Then, Zolah wondered if that meant she'd gone soft. Maybe she was just getting old.

"Fynta's on her way to the surface." Theron appeared by Quinn's side. Any unease between the men vanished under the chaos of battle. "Torian is leading a group of Mandalorians into the forest, and we have pockets of Force Users taking charge of ground troops."

Zolah flicked the monitor in front of her. The crack down the middle gave it a double image, but there was no mistaking the dropships unloading hundreds of Skytroppers. She sighed and pointed at Quinn. "Make sure we have access to all armor cams. I want a full view of the battlefield."

Quinn saluted and strode off. The man never ran, he never increased his speed so far that Zolah could tell, but he had a certain walk that warned people to stand aside or fall in line. He snapped off orders, sending runners to pass along the frequency all ground troops should tune their cameras to.

Zolah watched the man, grateful for his professionalism, then her gaze fell on Theron. He forced a weak smile. "Just like old times, huh?"

There was no need to ask what Theron meant. Zolah's chuckle ended in a sigh. "We did it on Yavin IV, we'll do it here."

Odessen Commander's Quarters

"I won't be able to join you." Aric's sighed words through Fynta's helmet almost made her stumble. When she'd rushed for the door, still pulling on her armor, Aric had turned in the opposite direction. He was going to get Shillet because that was his first duty as a father. Fynta's was to protect the base.

They'd sworn to meet once Aric was sure that Shillet was safe. Something must have happened to delay him. "Everything okay, riduur?" Fynta asked, focusing her attention back to the lumbering hunk of machinery beneath her. Bolts pinged off the walker's shell, and then the self-destruct of a sky trooper underfoot teetered her to one side. The Walker dropped back onto both legs with a jarring crunch that drove a curse from Lana.

"Ran into some trouble on my way out of the base," Aric answered. His breath puffed in between words. "I'm taking up a sniping position in the ridge overlooking the landing bay. Fighting is pretty thick there."

"Understood." Fynta had known when they promised to stay together in those dark, silent hours of the night that it was a lie. Aric was a soldier. More than that, he was a protector. He would go where he was needed. That wasn't presently by Fynta's side. "Lana and I are nearly at the Gravestone. We'll link up with Sonya and Arcann, then get the Gravestone free to join the fight in the atmosphere."

Silence met Fynta's plan, then her husband sighed. "Stay safe." Aric didn't like her working with Arcann. Fynta wasn't thrilled about the prospect either. That man had single-handedly turned her life, and the lives of those she loved, into a steaming pile of osik for years. But, Fynta never turned down an advantage. Right now, the contrite emperor owed her a debt, and she planned to collect.

"There." Lana gripped the back of the pilot's seat and leaned forward. Fynta followed her finger to the slash of gold and blue against the darkness of the Gravestone's hull. She didn't say goodbye to Aric, she never did. But he knew; she'd spent all night being sure that he knew.

The walker came to a grinding halt at the bottom of the narrow ramp leading to the Gravestone's perch. The ship was too big to keep close to the base, so they'd chosen a cliffside to dock it at. That seemed like poor planning now. Skytroopers swarmed the grating, threatening to overrun the Zakuulan Knight and her spawn.

Fynta flipped the lever to open the hatch, then unbuckled herself from the driver's seat. Without a word, Lana pulled the hilt from her belt and stepped into the opening in the floor. She landed with the practiced skill of a Force user, then darted into the fray. Fynta, being a mere mortal, grabbed the slender handrails and slid down the ladder that extended to the ground.

Lana had left a trail of broken droid parts, making tracking the Sith's progress simple. Fynta took potshots while she ran, finishing the crippled skytroopers that Lana hadn't bothered with. By the time Fynta reached the top of the ramp, the three were fighting in a tight circle formation.

The display of power impressed even Fynta. Arcann was the former emperor and galaxy conqueror, and Senya a vaunted Zakuulan Knight of legend. But Lana, with her quiet smiles and subtle manipulations, shined brighter than both when she finally displayed her full capacity for destruction.

The Sith woman leapt into the air, releasing a Force wave strong enough to topple trees when she landed. The remaining enemies were flung off the edge of the cliff and into the abyss beyond. Then, she straightened, fixed her hair, and nodded. "That takes care of that. What next, Commander?"

Docking clamps groaned free, and the Gravestone lifted into the night. Koth let out a gleeful shout over the comms. "Time to see what these new upgrades can do."

Fynta watched them go, then turned to the rest of her group. "The fighting has spread across the surface. Let's fix that."

"We will fight with you until the end." Arcann's gravelly voice carried a hint of emotion that Fynta almost pitied. She was sure the man cared for his baby sister in some capacity. It remained to be seen if he could hold up his end of the bargain.

Fynta looked at Senya, the real concern when it came to Vaylin. The woman had already betrayed them once by saving Arcann instead of letting him face justice. So far, it had worked in their favor. Fynta doubted they would be so lucky with Vaylin. "You saw what Valkorion did to your daughter?"

Senya winced. Fynta brought up the familial link to gauge the woman's reaction. The older woman didn't hide how difficult this was. With a dejected sigh, Senya met Fynta's gaze. "Valkorion destroyed what was left of my daughter long ago." The dead emperor chuckled in the back of Fynta's mind but otherwise stayed silent. He was enjoying this family drama.

Pulling her shoulders straight, Senya looked Fynta in the eyes. "Vaylin must be stopped."

"You need to draw her out," Arcann suggested, switching the military commander he'd once been. "Bring her to the surface."

Theron's voice cut through Fynta's helmet comm. "Sana-Rae just flanked the enemy, but she could use some more firepower."

Fynta nodded to Lana. The woman hesitated only a moment, her gaze flickering between Senya and Arcann, before darting down the bridge leading deeper into the wild. Her comm chirped again, and Torian's voice echoed through her helmet. "We're getting hammered over here, could use another vod."

Fynta checked Torian's position in the feed that Zolah had linked to her helmet. He was near the front lines. That didn't surprise her. "On the way."

As Fynta turned, Arcann joined her. She spared him a glance, and the man simply shook his head. "You will not face her alone." Fynta almost ordered him to stay, then decided against it. Her gut warned that she would need these two before the end.

Odessen Command Center Force Enclave

Cormac had three children clinging to him, and none of them were his son. Instead, Tayl stood by Shillet, who had started a game of jacks with a few of the tween kids. The younger ones looked on, learning from the mistakes of their elders. Meanwhile, the older kids, the ones who stood on the cusp of adulthood, paced with the relentless stride of a caged manka cat. Most were the Mandalorians that Verin had brought along, so it wasn't a surprise that they itched for battle.

Twice, Cormac had broken up a group of teens who had their heads together, casting keen glances at the exits. He had his eye on Tranx's girl at the moment. Zula barely reached Cormac's elbow, but she had the makings of a leader, unfortunately, it was the young and dumb sort, at the moment.

"Shhh, it's alright." Noara rocked a whimpering toddler, bouncing the boy on her hip. He curled closer when the thumps from above scattered dirt from the Enclave ceiling. Sana-Rae had requested the space be reinforced, but left as natural as possible to help the Force users meditate. It was a beautiful place with the rugged appeal of a long-forgotten cavern. It also gave the impression of instability when bits of the roof broke away and landed among the frightened children.

Then, there was Tayl. Cormac couldn't believe how big the boy had gotten. How much he didn't cling to Elara when she ran out the door with her medical bag. The resignation in those big, grey eyes when he took Cormac's hand for the trip down to the shelter. That was far more worrying than the cries and occasional screams of his peers.

Tayl's entire life had been war. Even when he and Shillet went to the best schools, they'd fought against their parents' reputations and struggled under the weight of those shadows. To Tayl, this wasn't the potential end of their brief moment of happiness, but the simple truth of life. He didn't cry, because all of his tears were gone.

The same could be said for Shillet. She remembered bits of her life before Havoc found her on that wrecked mudball of a planet. She'd won and lost so many battles that now all the girl did was survive. They might all perish in Vaylin's assault, and that was fine because it had always been a possibility.

"Are we missing some?" Noara stood on her toes, scanning the room. "I swear there were—oh no."

Cormac saw it at the same time. The Mandalorian teens were gone. He'd looked away for a second to consider his failure as a father and fucked it up again. "I'll find them."

Noara helped Cormac peel the skinny arms and legs from his body, only for them to latch onto her. She must have been using the Force to prop them all up because there was no way that tiny woman could support all of their weight. He made a placating motion at the Jedi as he backed through the throng of kids. "I'll bring them back."

The last thing Cormac saw as he snatched his rifle from beside the door was the resignation in his son's eyes.

Odessen External Docking Site Alpha

"We need more light," the medic to Elara's right complained. He was right, but they couldn't risk it. Not so close to the front lines.

"Night vision will have to do." The chrono in Elara's helmet told her that less than thirty minutes had passed since the first blaring siren, yet their triage had outgrown the medical tents.

Yuun carried the tail end of a stretcher, having volunteered to leave the confines of the base's intelligence command to aid his friend. They stopped beside Elara so that she could examine the boy. He was Mandalorian, barely older than the group that Verin had brought to Odessen. Her stomach churned at the thought that this could have been one of the children from Torian's clan. Verin's son.

Shaking those dark thoughts away, Elara scanned him and was relieved to find only a shattered foot. He'd lose it more than likely, but that could be replaced. "This one isn't critical, mark him blue and have the medics there administer a sedative. His fight is done."

Yuun tipped his head, then looked up at the sky. Flashes of light in the upper atmosphere, weapons fire between ships, looked like lightning in the clouds. "Many have fallen," her old friend clicked. "But, the way remains clear."

"Of course." Elara pulled her attention back to the surface, to the people who needed aid. Yuun was right. There was work to do on the surface.

The pair staggered towards the medical tents for the severely wounded but not fatal. Eara felt a familiar presence at her back and turned to find Malavai Quinn staring at the sky. She didn't know how to feel about the man. He'd made his opinion of deserters known from the beginning, labeling himself as one of the few people in the galaxy that her husband wouldn't try to befriend.

"Something isn't right." A line appeared between Quinn's brows. Elara looked up and saw the same thing he did. The lightning had stopped, and the clouds above the base began to boil.

Before Elara could register the danger, Quinn cursed and spun towards the captivated crowds. "Get the wounded inside, now!"

The first bolt struck the ground half a klick away. Bright light blinded Elara, she felt a bone-rattling tremor in the ground, then sound and pressure tossed dirt into her faceplate. Instinct kicked in, and Elara wrapped herself around Quinn, the closest unarmoured being. She'd barely recovered when another round struck further away.

"Orbital bombardment," Quinn stated from beneath Elara. He seemed unfazed that they were half buried in loose dirt with the weight of her armor bearing down on him. He wiped grit from his face and squinted into the sky. Had their lives taken different paths, Elara could have respected this man.

Elara pushed herself off Quinn and stood, she needed to pick a direction and move before more damage could be done. To her surprise, Quinn grabbed her arm. When Elara looked back, his face was open and earnest. "I have medical training. Put me to use."

"Get the wounded closest to the base inside and begin triaging any fresh injuries." Malavai nodded and released Elara. She had a direction now. He could handle the medical tents. Elara needed to get into the field. She turned and chose people at random, three Mandalorians and one Imperial soldier. Then, she took the medical kits off the nearest orderlies. "Men, we have comrades to rescue."

Odessen Skytrooper Landing Position Beta

Verin lifted Cinlat's old blasters and felt her soul in the kick of each shot. She'd have enjoyed this, he thought, taking down mechs instead of flesh and blood. For all her ruthlessness, Cinlat had never savored a kill. She'd done her job, and she'd done it efficiently. Skytroopers, however, now they were fun. Verin loved the little self-destructive pop that wrecked the machinery.

"Enemy ambush cut us off." Torian's voice wheezed through the speakers in Verin's helmet. There was pain in each word, and it stole any delight that Verin had found in battle. "I'm the only one left. Position's about to be overrun."

"Almost there, Torian." Fynta had started running, Verin could tell by the bounce in her tone. He pulled up a map that marked the members of Clan Cadera, then noted dots that marked Fynta's approach. Torian wasn't far, Verin could beat his sister there.

Turning, Verin took two steps when another group of markers caught his attention. His blood turned to ice even as he opened a line. "Boy, tell me you are not this stupid."

"Had to do our part, buir." Blaster fire and wild shouts overlaid Tranx's response. He was supposed to be in the Enclave with the rest of the young, not out here with—

The ground rose beneath Verin's feet, making him weightless for a split second before slamming him back to the ground. Tranx's cry was the only thing that kept Verin's wits about him even while his ears rang. "Hold on, son."

Verin scrambled up a newly formed hill of silt and mud. When he reached the top, the world was on fire. Dizziness pulled at him, but Verin shoved it aside and focused on the life signs of his son and those stupid enough to leave the safety of the base. The ground gave way under Verin's boots as he slid down the other side. What had been solid dirt seconds ago felt like rolling in sand.

When he reached the group of verd'ika, he did a quick head count. One was missing, but the rest were on their feet. Verin spotted Tranx's helmet and stormed towards him. The boy saw him coming, and even being a head taller, backed away and held up his hands. Verin grabbed his son's pauldrons and smacked their helmets together. He held him in that embrace long enough to swallow the lump in his throat. "Are you alright?"

"Think so." Tranx's gloved fingers dug into the grooves of Verin's chest plate like they had when he was young. It was the only indication of how shaken the boy was.

Verin released his son and addressed the rest of the group. "Weapons hot, do not hesitate to take the shot. You stay on my back and you keep up. Is that understood?"

Helmets nodded and the kids pulled into a tighter formation. Zula, in her white and orange armor and barely tall enough to touch Tranx's shoulder, stepped up beside Verin. "Lead on."

Verin took the long way to Torian. They were as close to their injured alor as they were to the base, and Verin saw no reason to leave Torian to die alone. By the time they reached the spot on Verin's map, Fynta had arrived with an unlikely escort. Arcann straightened, pulling his blade from a downed knight.

A bolt shot past Verin's shoulder, only to be deflected by Senya. The older woman glared, and Verin turned to find Zula's rifle pressed to her shoulder. As if sensing his gaze, the girl shrugged. "You said not to hesitate." Verin smacked the back of Zula's helmet, but inside, he beamed with pride.

"Friends of yours?" Arcann rumbled as he hooked his now dormant weapon to his belt.

Fynta didn't look back as she tapped on an alien communications panel. "My brother, Verin, and his gangly host of young warriors. Nice shot, Zula."

"I see." Arcann said no more, but he and Senya both took several steps back, making room for the Mandalorians to crowd around Fynta.

Torian leaned against the panel, one arm wrapped around his middle and pointing at the screen. "That was the main comms array. Should get you all the way up to the ship."

"Good." Fynta had removed her helmet and finally looked up at Verin. "Keep everyone back and quiet." She pressed the screen, and evil appeared.

"Well, if it isn't Father's pet." The girl couldn't be older than sixteen, but Verin felt the hatred radiating off her holo. "I was just talking about you."

When Fynta answered, she sounded exasperated. "I have been up and down this battlefield looking for you. I can't believe you're cowering on a ship."

While Vaylin and Fynta traded barbs, Torian limped closer. "She'll be coming for your sister."

"Never doubted that." An odd peace settled over Verin. He had a feeling that Fynta would find a way to cheat death again because this time, she had family at her back. Torian tripped, and Verin caught him. "You going to live?"

"Probably." Torian's voice sounded more strained than before. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower."

Verin chuckled and slipped his friend's arm over his shoulder. "I'll have Noara get right on that."

"The longer you draw this out," Fynta said, arms folded over her chest and smug grin in place, "The more time my agents have to infiltrate your empire. That throne's as good as mine."

Vaylin let out a hellish screech and the image flickered out. Verin couldn't say he blamed the girl, he'd been on the receiving end of Fynta's shit eating grin more times than he wanted to count. If anyone could needle a person into a fight, it was his baby sister.

Turning away from the comm, Fynta's expression turned serious. "Time to shore up our defenses. It won't take Vaylin long to launch her next strike."

At last, Arcann joined the group, though Verin noted that he kept his hands clear of his weapon. "We are ready."

Odessen South Quadrant

Kozen lowered his blade as the last skytrooper fell. He sensed Kaeto on the other side of the trees, her blood singing with the joy of battle. It drove his higher, strengthening his muscles and his will.

"Hey. Hey, can anyone hear me?" The tiny voice rang from the comm on Kozen's belt. He'd lost himself to bloodlust, but Vette's anxious tone brought him back. Kozen palmed the device to find the small Twi'lek who had once shared his ship.

Vetty blew out a breath. "It's about time, big guy. I could use your help."

"Where are you?" There was never a doubt that Kozen would go to her. Vette had softened his heart once, a reason why he'd sent her away. Spoiling the girl, is what Quinn had called it. Though the traitorous bastard had little room to lecture Kozen on the merits of command.

"South Quadrant." Vette popped up over a broken speeder and fired her blasters. "Getting real low on ammo here."

"We are on our way." Kozen ended the call and began running. Before long, Kaeto sprinted by his side, their Force-enhanced strength driving them faster than should be possible.

Though Kozen had never understood why, Kaeto often moved with her eyes shut, sensing the world around her. He supposed it had something to do with Notiac's teachings. A Mirialukan could not help but describe the Force in a different way than sighted beings.

Keato's eyes popped open. "She's close."

Kozen didn't question his lover's ability. She took the lead, and he followed. Together, they vaulted downed walkers and tore through straggling Skytroopers. A pang of, not fear, but sadness caressed Kozen's mind. It wasn't until they broke through the foliage that he understood why.

Vette's feet kicked uselessly in the air. Time seemed to slow down as Kozen took in the multitude of Zakulaan Knights and the woman standing at their center. Vaylin turned a wicked smile on them even as Kaeto drew her blades.

"You're not who I was expecting." Vaylin released Vette, letting the gasping Twi'lek collapse without warning. Kozen took only a second to note that she was breathing before shifting his focus back to Vaylin.

"I recognize you." The girl folded one arm around her middle and pointed at each of them with lackadaisical ease. First at Kaeto, then Kozen. "You're the one who killed father the first time, or so I'm told. And you, you were his Wrath." Vaylin chuckled. "What a useless title."

Kaeto's muscles tensed, and Kozen felt it in his own. They were in sync, one mind in separate bodies. He knew she was going to strike before she moved, and his reflexes followed. Vaylin's eyes widened for the span of a heartbeat, then Kozen was hurdling backwards. His back slammed into an overturned communications relay and pain stabbed through his right side.

Pushing himself upright, Kozen looked down to find his fingers coated with blood. Kaeto saw, and her eyes met his. "I'll see you in the beyond," she called over the roar of Vaylin's building Force. A smile touched her lips, and Kozen remembered this from the vision they'd shared one silent evening. The night Kaeto had finally let him in.

Kozen dipped his head. "In the beyond." There were other things that he wanted to say, but Kaeto knew them already. He'd held nothing back from this strange, alien woman who should be his enemy. They were two sides of the same coin, hopelessly entangled in a fate bigger than both.

There was nothing left for Kozen to lose. He would die beside his soulmate, a perfect equal. Kaeto leaped towards Vaylin with a guttural cry, paving the way for Kozen's attack. His legs already felt weak, his life's blood dampening the fabric of his pant leg. With a final surge of hatred from the Dark Side, Kozen followed Kaeto for the last time. Run, Vette. He sent the thought to the Twi'lek as he passed, moving sluggishly in that moment of pure clarity that comes with a final battle. Vette didn't hesitate, and Kozen didn't see where she went.

The agony of Kaeto's death could not be compared to anything Kozen had experienced before. She had been a vital part of him for so long, that the abrupt severing of their link left ripples in the Force that struck Kozen like physical blows. The golden light that warmed him snuffed out, leaving only cold rage in its place. He would not live through this battle, he refused to. His place was in the Force, beside Kaeto. Kozen would die to give Vette time to escape, but mostly, he would die to be reunited with his soul.

Odessen South Face of Mt. Ne'johaa

Jorgan turned away with a hiss. The image of Kozen's body, impaled by Vaylin's golden blade, his bloody sneer when his fingers closed on nothing but air, was burned into Jorgan's mind. Steeling himself, he looked back down the scope. It had all happened too fast, and Jorgan had never had a clear shot. He panned the scene, noting Kaeto's crumpled body at the Sith's feet.

Vaylin lowered her weapon and watched Kozen slide lifeless to the dirt. Then, she turned and shouted at her men. Jorgan couldn't hear the orders from this distance, but they no doubt included finding Fynta. She stormed into the forest while two sets of Knights gathered the once proud Sith and Faithful Jedi's corpses.

Until that moment, Jorgan had held out hope that they could beat Vaylin. They would turn away her attack because it only made sense for good to win. After seeing the almost casual way she'd dispatched two of the most powerful Force users in the known galaxy, Jorgan doubted. Even Fynta's indomitable stubbornness was no match for the unbridled hatred that fueled Vaylin.

Jorgan had repressed the urge all night to call his wife, now he didn't hesitate. "Fynta, you read?"

"Loud and clear, Riduur." Metal groaned in the background, and Fynta's maniacal chuckle gave Jorgan something solid to hold onto. "How are things on your end?"

Guilt tugged at Jorgan. He was supposed to have met her an hour ago, but circumstances kept detouring him. He looked back down his scope, noting the absence of Kaeto and Kozen's bodies. The decision of whether or not to distract Fynta with their deaths made him hesitate long enough for Fynta's tone to turn worried.

"Fine," Jorgan answered when Fynta prompted again. "I'm up in the mountains, picking off what I can. You?"

"Stomping towards the landing bay in a stolen walker." Someone cursed in the background, a deep, masculine tone that set Jorgan's hackles up.

Jorgan barely controlled the growl in his voice. "Who was that?"

"Sounds like you already know the answer to that one, love." Jorgan could hear the grin in his wife's voice until she sighed. "Arcann and Senya are helping me. We're going to take Vaylin down once and for all."

"You can't." The shouted words tore from Jorgan before he could stop them. Cold silence answered, and Jorgan tried to reign in his panic. He couldn't let Fynta face Vaylin head on, not after what he'd just witnessed. "Are you sure you can trust them?"

It took a few more seconds for Fynta to reply. "Yes."

Jorgan heard the tone of command in Fynta's voice, the subtle reminder that right now, she was his superior and he needed to accept that. Aric blew out a breath. "I'll head that way and offer support. You don't have to do this alone."

"Thanks, Riduur." Fynta's voice softened. "Stay safe."

"You too, and hey, leave the line open, will you?" It wasn't something Jorgan would normally request, but dread tightened his stomach so much that he felt sick. If Fynta was going to her death, he was going to damn well be in her ear. Jorgan had to face the fact that he might lose her again. This time, he wasn't going to miss the chance to say goodbye."

Jorgan stood and had taken two steps towards the landing bay when Bey'wan's growl filled his helmet. "Oggurobb's position is overrun, we need any available troops to cover their retreat."

"Sound like another detour," Fynta teased while the information filled Jorgan's HUD. "I'll be waiting for you."

"You better be." With a growled curse, Jorgan tore through the foliage in the opposite direction, away from his wife. Dropping onto his belly at the edge of the cliff, he sighted on the Skytroopers closest to the retreating forces. "Jorgan to ground troops. I've got your back."

[dingoat]

Wheee okay well tumblr’s image dimensions sure make this look a whole lot smaller than the effort it took to put this together! But finally, here’s a piece for @cinlat that’s been a while coming, a big ol’ family portrait, which, let’s face it, could never be a proper family portrait without the teens goofing off and ruining things at the last second!

Thank you so much for entrusting me with your whole gang, this was such a pleasure to make for you! <3

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 17 (Choices)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: LOTS of hard choices to make, some tangible wisdom, a little bit of fun on the firing range, and one pissed off dead emperor...

Chapter Word Count: 7,200 Chapter Rating: M Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Theron Shan, Zolah Holran, Lana Beniko, Shillet Jorgan, Keshal Vaak, Balic Cormac...

Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

Odessen Private Quarters

Jorgan tossed the empty bottles into the bin while Cormac and Fynta hazed each other about who drank more. Tayl yawned as Elara said her farewells to Shillet. The girl promised to come stay with them soon, then hugged the only mother she'd ever known before bidding him and Fynta good night. All things considered, the night had gone perfectly. Yet, Aric felt more restless than ever.

The skirmishes on Nathema sat clearly in Jorgan's mind. Force-mad guardian and the way his blades sparked off Fynta's armor. Jorgan had taken the shot. He'd missed. If not for Fynta's beskar, that bastard would have cut her in two. Because Aric had missed.

Jorgan pulled the patch off his eye and rubbed it. Fynta had given him his sight back, but when it mattered, he hadn't been good enough. The world still looked like a white haze when Jorgan closed his good eye. Tech might have been able to get Fynta back on her feet, but it couldn't make him a sniper again.

Sighing, Jorgan swept crumbs from the counter into the tash. He'd find some other way to be useful, even if it meant hanging up his scopes. The pain of that thought stole his breath.

Strong arms snaked around Jorgan's waist from behind, and the familiar weight of Fynta's head resting against his back brought a sense of peace. For her, he'd give it all up. Maybe they should. Turning, Jorgan wrapped his wife in a hug. "We should retire."

Fynta chuckled and let Jorgan pull her closer. "You keep saying that."

Jorgan tightened his hold until Fynta looked him in the eye. "I'm serious. What if we just…stopped."

The smile that a pleasant evening had put on Fynta's face slipped. "Are you serious?" Jorgan held her gaze, and familiar frustration replaced it. She pushed away and flailed her hands. "I can't just stop, Aric. I have to get him out." The last line was delivered with a sharp slap to her forehead.

"Why?" Aric crossed the room and gripped Fynta's shoulders. Every time his panic felt under control, something sparked an attack that made him feel like it was all slipping through his fingers. It didn't matter that it wouldn't work, Jorgan argued. "What power does he have if you keep him bottled up? Some bad dreams and whiplash when he stops time? We can handle that."

Fynta tried to turn away, but Jorgan held her fast. "Damn it, woman." Every fear from the last six years crashed over Jorgan all at once. His fingers tightened, desperate to hold onto a past that he saw fading with each day. They were growing apart, him settling into life as a husband and father first, her always the reckless soldier.

Unbidden, anger replaced his fear and Jorgan snarled. "What more do you have to lose to see that this war will never end. Your other leg? The rest of my sight?" Fynta glared at him, but Jorgan couldn't stop the torrent of accusations even though he knew they weren't her fault. "For fuck's sake, Cormac's still walking with a limp. Havoc squad is gone. Vik is dead. When will it be enough?"

Jorgan regretted those last words even as they left his lips. Fynta's eyes widened, and for the first time he saw true, unadulterated emotion on her face. He'd crashed through her shields while she was vulnerable and left her exposed. That had never been his intention.

Slowly, Jorgan lifted his hands. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. This was the second time in as many days that he'd fucked up what could have been a civil discussion. "That didn't come out the way I meant."

Watching Fynta's mask slide back into place left Jorgan cold. "I know." Her whispered words hurt more than any slap could have.

Jorgan took one of his wife's hands and studied it against his. It was smaller, the fingers more delicate despite the years of calluses and scars. Fynta projected herself as a giant, and sometimes even he forgot that she was only human. Without looking up, Jorgan blew out a breath. "Will you at least hear me out?" Now that the heat of the moment had faded, Jorgan felt like shit. "Please."

"Of course." Jorgan winced at the distance in Fynta's voice, but it was no less than he deserved.

"I need to show you something." Jorgan pulled Fynta to their room. She sat on the end of the bed while he dug out the ruck sack that he had neglected to unpack earlier. He'd warred with himself all night about when to bring up the black box from Nathema. Now seemed as good a time as any.

Sighing, Jorgan turned. "I found this in the vault."

It happened too fast for Jorgan to react. Fynta had been sitting on the bed, then he was tripping over the desk chair, landing on his ass with her on top of him. The face hovering above Aric didn't belong to his wife. It twisted in rage, fingers clawing for his throat.

"Fynta." The knee she drove into Jorgan's gut drove a grunt out of him. He growled and squeezed her wrists so tight that he felt the bones grinding under his fingers. "Stop."

With a shout, Fynta threw herself backwards. The nails that had clawed for his throat were now tangled in her hair. She cried out, more of a belligerent curse than tortured scream. Jorgan scrambled to her and wrapped himself around her. He muttered nonsense, holding her stiff body until it began to relax. By the time Shillet appeared at the top of the stairs, Fynta was sweaty and panting.

"It's alright," Jorgan assured the girl, though he didn't loosen his hold. He couldn't imagine what they must look like, sitting on the floor with Fynta curled into his body. "Nightmare."

"You're sure?" Shillet didn't sound convinced, but she wanted to be. Jorgan nodded, and the girl half turned. "I'll go get her some water."

Fynta shivered, then lifted her head. "Fierfek." Jorgan let out a relieved breath, that word becoming one of relief instead of the curse it was meant to be. It meant his wife was back.

At the sound of returning footsteps, Fynta pushed away from Jorgan. She managed a weak smile at Shillet. "Thanks, Shil'ika. Sorry to wake you."

The girl wore her favorite pajamas, consisting of an old SpecForce shirt that Jorgan had given her years prior and a pair of shorts that she'd proudly lifted from under the quartermaster's nose. She'd been supposed to return those. "You good?" Shillet asked, keeping her distance with thin arms wrapped around her middle.

Fynta drank deep, then let out a shuddery breath. "I'm good. Thanks."

Though Shillet didn't look convinced, she turned and went back to her room. Jorgan waited until she was gone to open his mouth, but Fynta beat him to it. "What the hell?" She pressed the heel of her hand to her eye as she gestured at the box he'd dropped. "Why did you bring him with us?"

"He gave me an idea." The ghost living in Jorgan's box claimed to be Valkorion's father. Trapped for an eternity in a lonely vault by his petty son.

Fynta winced. "The old shabuir doesn't like that."

"Good." Jorgan took Fynta's face into his hands. They'd need to discuss what had just happened and why she had reacted so violently, but first— "Ever wonder why he didn't want you in that vault?"

Eyes widening, Fynta's lips parted. "You want to trap him." She hissed and squeezed her eyes shut, nails digging into Jorgan's forearms. No doubt that old Sith was raging inside her head.

Jorgan brushed loose strands of hair from Fynta's face. "It won't be easy." Hell, he didn't even know if it would be possible. What Jorgan did know was that their current life would lead Fynta to the grave. That wasn't something he'd survive a second time.

"We'll need help," Fynta rasped. Her spine straightened, life entering her eyes once more. "And a galaxy's worth of luck."

War Room Emergency Council Meeting 02:14 Hours

"You're mad." Lana waved a hand at Fynta while speaking to Zolah. "Tell the woman she's gone absolutely insane."

The Chiss shrugged narrow shoulders. "Since when has she ever listened to me?"

Arguments erupted, all the while Fynta watched the hope drain from Aric's eyes. She couldn't say that she disagreed with Lana's assessment. This was one of those grasping at straws plans. The sort that only the truly desperate made up. Fynta hadn't realized that they'd reached that point until Valkorion's rage over the holocron took over.

Fynta knew what, more specifically, who was in that box. She had ordered it to be left behind, to let the old bastard who sired the dead bastard in her head rot for all of eternity. Apparently, her husband had other plans.

A shiver traveled up Fynta's spine at the memory. It hazed, becoming more cloudy as the moments passed, but the rage lingered. Valkorion had roared in her mind, awakening some deep part of her that needed to kill. That old blood lust from childhood that Fynta had buried so long ago. Valkorion hadn't so much taken control of her body, but he'd unleashed the beast within, and she'd gone after the nearest target. That couldn't be allowed to happen again.

"We could use the same technique on Fynta that was used on me," Zolah suggested. Fynta's attention snapped back to the conversation. Zolah rarely spoke about her conditioning, only that it had been unpleasant, but she wouldn't hesitate to use that knowledge to better their position in the war effort.

Vector shook his head, his jaw taut with what Fynta assumed was disapproval. "We will not be a part of such tactics again." Zolah's eyes rolled towards the ceiling, evidence of a years-long argument between the couple. Vector continued without acknowledging his wife's chagrin. "Furthermore, that was an absolute loss of autonomy. Fynta would become a powerful weapon in the wrong hands."

Voices clambered for attention, and Fynta lost interest again. A yawn built in the back of her throat, and she clamped her teeth together to keep it caged. Finally, Notiac interjected with a calm that silenced the room. "I would like to speak with Felix about this."

Only the uncomfortable shuffle of feet answered. Felix Iresso had been a prisoner of war more than a decade ago, the only surviving member of his squad. Only later did the Republic learn that he'd been implanted with experimental holocron tech. No one knew how it worked or what knowledge lay dormant in his mind. Not even the Imperials. And, not for lack of trying. By the time he joined the Alliance, Felix had as many or more scars than Fynta.

"Is that a good idea?" Theron asked. He cleared his throat, and Fynta noted the intentional way he didn't look at their Imperial allies, specifically his girlfriend, the former Cipher Nine. "We promised that he wouldn't be prodded here."

Somehow, Notiac projected peace. Her lips tipped up, a matriarch indulging a child's concern. "No prodding. I simply wish to hear his thoughts on the matter. Fynta, Jorgan, I believe you should accompany me."

"Do you see a way for this plan to work," Lana hedged, eyes narrowed at her Jedi lover. Fynta didn't bother pointing out that Notiac didn't have eyes, though her fatigued thoughts snagged on that bit and refused to let it go.

As Fynta looked around the room, she realized how odd they were. Discounting her, a born Mandalorian, marrying a Cathar. That left the two pairs of Sith/Jedi couples, and a handful of intelligence agents from opposing sides settling into a foursome of domestic bliss. Technically, Theron had surrounded himself with Imperials, but he was stubborn enough to keep whatever loose morals guided him. What had started as a paltry group of radicals had merged into a single force, with no room for Imps and Pubs. They were simply the Alliance now.

Notiac dipped her head. "Possibly. I understand the idea behind Major Jorgan's proposal. Vitiate's father has been trapped for eons, unable to do harm. They want to do the same with Valkorion, trap him in Fynta's mind where he can no longer sway the growth of our galaxy. If done correctly, when she dies, he will simply cease to exist."

Fynta noted that the emperor in question had been silent since his outburst in their quarters. She didn't know what to make of it, but assumed there would be dreams and visits in the coming days to talk her out of this plan.

"I would also like to include Kaeto and Kozen. His skillset could prove useful," Notiac continued. Then, she looked at Fynta. "On second thought, I believe perhaps you should not be there. Major Jorgan can relay any pertinent instructions to you, and I have little doubt that he will base every decision on your wellbeing."

"Sure." Fynta didn't doubt it either, but she made a mental note to remind Aric that they were doing this for the sake of the galaxy too. That there would always be risk.

Zolah nodded, then added her concerns. "Say that we cage the mad emperor. What then? He will always be privy to our plans, even if he's rendered impoten—"

"I retire." Fynta saw Aric straighten, and Zolah let her sentence go unfinished. "We lock him in, then throw away the key. Take me off the board. Without access to fancy weapons and galactic armies, I'm just a Force blind human with a short temper and good aim. He can't do too much with that. Aric and I leave the Alliance and find somewhere remote to live out the rest of our lives." Now that she'd said it out loud, it didn't seem as terrible a plan.

"And what of the Alliance?" Zolah asked, her tone more clipped that Fynta expected. The Chiss had never sung Fynta's praises; she assumed Zolah would be pleased to have her out of the way.

Fynta gestured at the gathering. "It's yours. I was a figurehead, a way to draw people in. You've outgrown me." It was true, she realized. The Alliance was bigger than Fynta Wolfe, in truth it always had been.

Lana sighed and rubbed her temples. "That is—a lot to process." She dropped her arms and addressed the room. "It's late, and we all need rest. Before making any decisions, we must figure out if this plan is feasible. Once that question is answered, we can deal with what comes after. All in favor of dismissal?"

Three hands raised at once, Fynta's being among them. Aric and Vector seconding. It was no surprise that Theron, Quinn, and Zolah wanted more time to argue. "Motion carried." Fynta clapped her hands, then rubbed them together. "Good night, everyone. I'll see you at lunch."

Fynta angled for the door, speeding up when Aric joined her. They turned the corner before he leaned close to her ear. "Thank you."

Somehow, Fynta found a weak smile in her exhaustion, even though she felt hollow. Retirement had never been a concern for Fynta. She'd never expected to live long enough to see it. Now that it loomed on the horizon, Fynta didn't know what to think.

Odessen Officer's Quarters 10:00 Hours

Even as large as the Odessen was, it was hard to find privacy. Jorgan was used to the constant press of bodies and movement after years in the military. Still, there were moments when he felt the invasion more keenly. Jorgan hadn't meant to eavesdrop on Fynta's conversation, but Keshal's voice snagged his attention when he stepped into their quarters after a training session with Bey'wan.

"I hear that you've been questioning the Resol'nare." The woman hefted her daughter, who'd reached the age of non stop wiggling. She sighed and shifted Jodi to the other hip. "Care to hash it out?"

Jorgan pressed himself to the wall and ignored the guilt that gnawed at his gut. He knew that Fynta had been struggling with her identity lately. So many things had changed for all of them, but time had been compressed for Fynta, and she felt the ripples of his more keenly. It was part of why Jorgan had pushed for retirement. They needed to separate themselves from the constant battle that had become their lives.

"What makes you think that?" Fynta's tone sounded guarded. Then, she signed. "Verin's got a big mouth."

"Only when it comes to those he loves." Keshal blew air through her lips, and baby Jobi giggled.

"I'm not questioning the Resol'nare," Fynta admitted after a moment of silence. Jorgan's brows lifted. He'd never seen anyone bully Fynta into sharing her feelings as fast as Keshal did. Then again, few people said no to the matronly Mandalorian. "Just my place in it."

"Explain what—shab, let go you greedy little strill." Jorgan heard a scuffle and fought the urge to look around the corner. He assumed it involved one of Keshal's many braids and Jodi's tiny fingers. With a huff, Keshal continued. "You've got Cinlat's armor. You speak the language and put clan above all else, and—"

Fynta growled, and Jorgan heard the heavy clatter of her metal foot as she paced. "And no colors for that armor. A child that I can't raise in our culture because her father is Cathar, a Mand'alor that I'll never answer the call of…" She trailed off, footsteps falling quiet. "I'm dar'manda now." The horror in Fynta's voice twisted Aric's stomach. He knew what the term meant, but had never expected to hear it from his wife's lips.

Keshal hissed. "Hold your tongue, girl." Jodi's cooing paused while the girl puzzled out her mother's shift in temperament. "You take these things too literally. Colors will come. The Mand'alor is your alley, who you will aid if she calls. And as for Aric, well, he married a Mandalorian. That's on him."

Fynta didn't answer, but Aric heard the mattress squeak as she settled on it. Keshal's words echoed through his mind. He had chosen Fynta, knowing how integral her culture was to her. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to let her instill some of the better aspects of Mandalorian culture in their daughter. Thirteen wasn't an adult, though, Jorgan wouldn't budge on that.

"When my husband died," Keshal continued, her voice softer than before. "I felt lost. Do you remember that feeling? When you learned that you were married?"

Fynta must have nodded because Keshal only paused briefly. "That feeling of spiraling out of control. Of the universe plotting a course that you can barely hang onto. I felt that. I had a young son, my clan had scattered, and there was no way out."

"What did you do?" Fynta asked. Jodi squealed, and Keshal swore again. Fynta chuckled in reply. It reminded Jorgan of the way Cormac used to laugh when Shillet flung her food everywhere. Stars, Aric missed those days. "Assuming there's a moral to this story," Fynta continued, but there was a note of laughter in the biting words.

"I shaved my head," Keshal growled. "Something I'm considering doing again before this child rips my hair out by the root."

There was a scuffle, then Keshal sighed. "It was a small change, but something I could control. I felt empowered, and that stupid haircut breathed enough life into my sorry shebs that we survived."

"Not sure Aric would approve of me shaving my head, but I get the point." Fynta chuckled again. "Thanks."

"Now, about your brother." Keshal launched into a tirade about how long Verin had been gone and the trouble he could get into. Aric excused himself, giving Fynta the privacy that he should have from the beginning. He needed to find a way to approach the subject of Shillet and apologize for being an ass about it. If he wanted Fynta to be a part of his daughter's life, then he needed to give her that freedom.

Two days later, Jorgan poked the fire he'd built at their mountainside retreat and sighed. Fynta had run late in meetings and commed to say that she would meet him at their campsite. It had been his idea, a way to get Fynta alone so that they could work out some of the tension building between them.

The weather was forecast to be warm but comfortable. Jorgan had planned a mountain climb and maybe a late-night swim in the spring. That was hours ago.

Fynta arrived well after sunset, making enough noise to announce her presence. Jorgan poked the fire again, letting the knot that had squeezed his chest burn off. He'd begun to wonder if she wouldn't come at all. "Thought you'd forgotten."

"Never." Fynta's tone perked Jorgan's ears. He turned with dread to see what fresh hell the War Council meetings had heaped onto them this time. Jorgan paused half standing when Fynta stepped into the light.

Jorgan didn't remember crossing the campsite. Fynta kept her eyes low in an uncharacteristic scowl. Aric reached for a dark strand of hair that had worked its way free of its binding, then paused. "This is…different."

"I needed a change." Fynta tugged at a lock of hair, then squared her shoulders and looked Jorgan in the eye. "I needed to take control of something."

The defiance in Fynta's eyes barely hid the fear behind them. Jorgan remembered her conversation with Keshal, how one small detail could mean the difference between confidence, and the breakdown that Fynta had been creeping towards for weeks. At least she hadn't shaved it.

Taking Fynta's hand, Aric pulled her into the firelight where he could see her better. Fynta didn't fight or speak as he tugged the tie free so that he could run his fingers through the now black strands. He'd only known Fynta as the feisty blonde, with hair caught between pale highlights and brown undertones with no direction as to where it would end up.

The black complimented her skin, bringing out the bronze hues, and making her eyes blaze brighter. Jorgan had always known his wife was beautiful, and had spent many a grumpy meeting glaring at the men who threw themselves at her. The new color amplified that, contrasting where the blonde had blended.

Jorgan smiled and tucked the strand behind Fynta's ear. "It suits you."

Odessen Training Room

"You sure about this, boss?" Cormac blocked two high strikes and a dirty kick. His hips almost had full range of motion, and his left knee didn't give out anymore. Which was good since Fynta wasn't holding back.

"Of course not." Fynta ducked beneath Cormac's jab, then stabbed two fingers into his ribs. He grunted, and she danced away. "But, Aric has a point."

Rubbing his abused torso, Cormac put some distance between him and the agile not-blonde. He liked the new hair color and thought it brought out the light in her eyes. He hated seeing how dull they had become lately. "That means you'll be stuck with him for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?" If Cormac had his way, they'd fight to the throne room of Zakuul and find a way to be rid of the old emperor once and for all.

Fynta blew out a breath, and Cormac used that opportunity to box her ears. He managed to get one before she stomped his foot. With a curse, Cormed limped back to his side of the mat. Fynta waved at the ceiling, and damn it, Cormac looked up even though he knew she was being rhetorical. "I don't know. You weren't there. You didn't see him."

"Pretty sure I was," Cormac responded, dragging his gaze down from the nothing above them. Fynta's features clouded, and he shrugged. The poor woman had gotten a healthy dose of reality from a lot of people lately, and it looked like it was his turn.

Cormac started unwrapping his gloves and jerked his head towards the bench where their bags were stored. He flopped onto the metal seat, pleased that it didn't hurt. Fynta joined him, focusing too hard on her gear. She sighed. "Tell me."

They'd never spoken about the time when Fynta was away, not at length. He'd been so damn grateful when her memory returned that rehashing those emotions didn't seem worth it. But, Cormac was good at reading people, and right now it seemed that the bosses were out of sync. That was bad for everyone.

Leaning back, Cormac took a deep breath. "It was hell." Fynta winced, and he patted her leg. He didn't want to hurt her or betray Jorgan's worst moments, but she needed to know in order to make the best decision for everyone. "He stopped eating, dropped maybe ten kilo. He's never been a jolly bloke but all the life was gone from him. Jorgan woke up, did his duty, then went to bed. Shillet was the only thing keeping him going after they declared you dead."

"Yeah." Fynta breathed the word and leaned against the walll. Her shoulder pressed against Cormac's, but she still didn't look at him. "I've never seen him like this."

"He's scared." Cormac knew the feeling. It was worse with Elara and Tayl on Odessen than it had ever been while they were apart. "I don't think he'd survive losing you again." Cormac stopped short of voicing his opinions on how that end would come, only that he had doubted the Cathar would outlive his mate a second time.

They sat in silence for a moment, then Fynta dropped her face into her hands. "I need to figure him out again." Her voice was muffled, but Cormac understood. "We are so different now. I don't know how to get us back on the same page."

Plastering on a grin, Cormac nudged his best friend's shoulder until she looked at him. "Go back to the basics. Find something that you can connect with and build from there." He wiggled his eyebrows for added effect.

Fynta chuckled and shoved Cormac away. Then, she straightened. "Actually, that gives me an idea." She reached beneath the bench and snatched her gear. Fynta took two steps, then came back and planted a kiss on the top of Cormac's bald head. "You're a genius. Give Elara and Tayl my love."

Cormac lifted a hand to wave his friend off, then set about gathering the rest of his gear. Maybe he should take his own advice and treat Elara to a nice night at the cantina. Shillet probably owed him a favor, and she wouldn't turn down time with her little cousin anyway. By the time Cormac stood, he had an entire evening of dancing and relaxation planned. Now, all he had to do was pry his wife away from the medical bay long enough to enjoy it.

Odessen Alliance Base Indoor Rifle Range 0023 Hours

Jorgan followed Fynta into the rifle range and flipped on the external light to warn others that it was occupied. It was late, after midnight, and he felt the weight of the day wearing on him. They'd enjoyed a day in the mountains, but had been recalled early to deal with a new development in Vaylin's plans. Since then, Jorgan had barely seen his wife.

Stifling a yawn, Jorgan set his kit down and flipped through the target options. Fynta had refused to leave until Shillet was asleep, which the girl seemed to recognize and found every reason to stay awake. That was after a run with Iresso, a fresh batch of recruit testing, and general fretting over things he couldn't change. Jorgan had dozed once or twice on the couch while the girls had their battle of wills.

"What are you up to?" Jorgan didn't want to be on the firing range, but could tell Fynta had planned a special evening for them. He just hoped they could get through it without another argument.

A hand settled over Jorgan's, jerking him out of his glum thoughts. Fynta nodded to the far lane. "Come on, I've already got it set up."

"Been planning this?" Jorgan aimed for flirtatiousness and was rewarded with Fynta's signature grin. Her gaze traced along the blacks he wore, stirring a twinge of excitement in his gut. A quick glance towards the door revealed that she'd unplugged the security camera. Her grin widened when his lifted brows found her again.

Instead of the blankets he'd hoped to find behind the dividing wall, Jorgan's sniper rifle perched on the flat countertop and a target blinked at the hundred yard mark. He shifted a wary glare towards his wife. "I could probably hit that without the fancy new eye patch."

"Gotta start somewhere," Fynta answered with a wave for Aric to step up. "We need to calibrate it better so that there are fewer unknowns in the field." She didn't say it, but Jorgan knew that she'd seen his mistake. He was a liability now.

Sighing, Jorgan pressed his shoulder into the rifle butt and propped his elbows on the table. The patchwork of lines flickered to life the moment his eyepiece touched the scope. Shapes formed, creating the other half of what his good eye saw in a precise, green grid. The target appeared last, though the entire process took less than fifteen seconds. Even though he didn't need it for such a short distance, Aric ran through the routine of relaxing his muscles and counting heart beats. He squeezed the trigger on an exhale and the target flashed a sequence of colors to mark a bullseye.

Straightening, Jorgan smirked at his wife. "Satisfied?"

Fynta bent forward and unlaced her right boot. "Eventually." Jorgan watched the woman gracelessly relieve herself of the shoe, tipping so far to the side that he reached out to steady her on instinct. Fynta batted his hand away. "No touching."

Jorgan withdrew and gestured at the firing lane. "What's this all about?"

Fynta kicked the offending boot to the side, then nodded towards the target. It had moved out to one hundred and fifty yards. Jorgan attempted one of her brow raises in response. "For every hit," she continued, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms in a way that lifted her breasts for his appreciation. "I'll drop an article of clothing."

"Now the security camera makes sense," Jorgan replied, hoping that his voice didn't give away the speed of his racing heart. Fynta didn't respond, which set his nerves on edge.

Carefully, Jorgan set his rifle on the table and folded his arms to match Fynta's stance. "What happens if I miss?"

Fynta's shoulders lifted. "Nothing, but I'll pull the target in closer." Pushing off the wall, she slinked closer, hips rolling and eyes dancing with challenge. "You either get me naked, or prove that you can't hack it as a sniper anymore." Her voice dropped an octave, and she stopped short of touching him. "The choice is yours, Major Jorgan."

"Damn you, woman." Aric spun around and snatched his rifle from the stand. Echoes of a similar conversation a lifetime ago rolled through his thoughts. A time when Fynta entertained the prospect of giving up the life she loved instead of trusting in technology. Fynta was making her point in the same way he had after losing her leg. Accept the hard truth that his fighting style had to change, or retire. There was no room for half measures on the battlefield.

This time, Fynta rested her hand on Jorgan's arm, but he couldn't make himself look at her. "There is no one I would rather have at my back. We do this together, or what's the point?"

Swallowing his pride, Jorgan nodded and sighted on the next target. Fynta had agreed not to bench him again. Now, he needed to prove that he could still be counted on. When Jorgan executed another perfect shot, Fynta removed her sock, then her jacket, leaving her in just the casual blacks she wore around the base. When the target hit three hundred yards, Jorgan felt the warm press of breasts against his back. "Don't miss," Fynta whispered against the shell of his ear. A shiver ran the length of his spine, but Aric pushed it down.

The kaleidoscope of color announced another perfect shot, and Jorgan looked over his shoulder in time to see Fynta pull her belt free. He let his eyes trail over her before finding her face. "You're running out of clothing." Glancing back at the target, Jorgan estimated how far he could make it out before she was out of bargaining chips. "You've only got until five hundred yards before I win."

Fynta shook her head. "Don't worry about me." Something in her tone made Aric hesitate. He stared at his wife, trying to peer past the smug exterior to work out her plan. Eventually, he gave up and found the target again.

Three-fifty wasn't a difficult shot, but he'd never taken it with the eye piece. An uneasiness settled in Jorgan's stomach, and he flexed his hands to work out the stiffness. Insecurities that he hadn't felt since his rookie days creeped into the back of his mind until warmth slid around his ribs.

Jorgan looked down to find Fynta's hands splayed across his stomach. "What are you doing?"

"Distracting you." Fynta nipped his ear, making Jorgan start. He heard her laughter when she spoke again. "Is it working?"

"No." Jorgan didn't believe his gruff answer any more than Fynta would, but her touch gave him something to focus on more than his fear. Something to conquer.

The rifle kicked, and Jorgan let out a relieved breath when the target signaled a hit. Fynta's hands unwound from his body, but Aric felt movement as his back. When the target positioned itself at four hundred yards, he leaned forward to let the instruments read the field.

Tan skin slid into Jorgan's peripheral, a naked leg that rubbed suggestively alongside his. Aric cleared his throat and squinted down the line. His best shot was more than twice this, but the range only went to one thousand yards. He could do this, and prove to himself that his career hadn't ended.

Fynta's hands returned to their positions on Aric's stomach, the warmth of her exposed skin seeping through his pant leg made for a better distraction than enemy fire. He huffed a breath and focused on his heart beat, listening to a rhythm that was faster than he'd have liked. Another shot sparked cheerful colors from the target.

Straightening, Aric turned to his wife. "Fynta, this isn't going to—" His words dried on his tongue. After so many years together, the sight of her wiggling out of a shirt still brought him up short. He was mesmerized by the seductive way her hips twisted while she worked the fabric over her head and the flex of abdominals when the shirt finally cleared.

Fynta dropped the cloth on top of her pants and boot, then stretched. "Sorry, riduur, you were saying?"

Jorgan growled low in his throat, a primal sound that he'd hidden from other women. Fynta loved it, often coaxing more from him. She stepped back and held up one finger when Aric started towards her. "Remember? No touching."

With narrowed eyes, Jorgan returned to his perch and leaned forward to peer down his scope. Before he could find the target, Fynta's body pressed against his back, her hands toying with the hem of his shirt. Aric's body was more than aware of the change in her scent and how little separated their skin.

Target acquired, Jorgan's finger tightened on the trigger until the drawstring in his pants loosened. "That's. Cheating." He bit the words out through gritted teeth while Fynta wound her fingers in the flimsy ties.

Fynta's hand slid into the loosened waistband of his pants and offered a tantalizing massage through his underwear. "I never specified my rules," Fynta husked, fingers squeezing and flexing around his clothed shaft. The combination of heat and coarse material made for a dizzying sensation. "Think you can make the shot under—" her fist tightened, stopping short of pain. "Duress?"

Air wheezed between Jorgan's lips. Fynta's heady scent filled his nostrils, clouding out everything except removing that final barrier between his erection and her heat. Teeth bared, Aric met those deep, blue eyes over his shoulder. "Watch me."

The target flashed a hit, and Fynta rewarded Aric with several, quick strokes. He yelped in surprise, gripping the table with one hand while trying not to send his rifle clattering to the floor. When she released him, Jorgan felt like he could breathe for the first time. Until he saw that she'd removed her bra. His mouth went dry, attention drawn to the two perfect peaks that he wasn't allowed to caress.

Fynta pretended not to notice, nodding down the line. "Five hundred yards, Major. Make this shot, and…" Her thumbs slipped into the elastic of her underwear, dragging one side low enough to expose her hip bone.

Snapping his attention back to that infuriating smirk, Jorgan's eyes narrowed. "I'll have you when this is over, woman."

The impish grin widened. "I'm counting on it."

With rolled eyes, Jorgan forced himself to bend forward and press the high tech eye patch to the scope again. Visions of what he planned to do to Fynta after this shot played out in distracting clarity. He'd bend her over the stall and take her from behind until she was panting in Mando'a, then—

The brush of fabric caught his attention a second before Aric's thoughts splintered into a hundred shards of light. Wet heat enveloped him, wrapping his mind in cotton while his body hummed to life. Even when he looked down to find Fynta on her knees, head bobbing while her mouth made delicious sucking noises, his mind couldn't make sense of it. He'd had a fantasy like this a long time ago and was almost certain that he'd never mentioned it to Fynta.

Fynta took Aric into the back of her throat, gripping his hips when he tried to push for more and glanced upward. The damn woman smiled, and somehow it was all the more radiant with his cock in her mouth. "What—" her throat flexed and his words scattered.

Pulling back, Fynta smiled with an innocence she'd never possessed. "Take the shot, riduur." Her tongue flicked out to tease him, and Aric shivered. "If you can."

The defiant note in Fynta's voice battered against the haze of pleasure she'd lured Jorgan into. It reminded him of his purpose. With one hand, Jorgan cupped Fynta's chin, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "You're on."

Odessen Alliance Base Command Quarters 03:47 Hours

Fynta should be asleep. Her body ached in that delicious way it always did when Aric let loose in bed. She'd never been more grateful that Shillet chose to stay over with Elara and Cormac. There were some sounds that a girl should never hear her father make.

The man in question sprawled on his stomach, one arm draped over Fynta's torso. He'd meant to cuddle, no doubt, but had succumbed to exhaustion before completing the act. Smiling, Fynta scraped her nails over Aric's scalp. It had been a good night, a way to reconnect over what they did best. Probably not what Cormac had meant with his pep talk. But, Fynta felt more in sync with her husband than she had in months. She hoped that their unorthodox exercise had bolstered his confidence behind the scope too.

Fynta stretched, then settled closer to her husband. Aric pulled her against his body without opening his eyes, sliding one hand under her shirt while burying his face in her hair. It reminded Fynta of those stolen moments back on the Thunderclap in between missions. Their romance had been fresh and forbidden back then. They'd risked their careers to be together. Now, Fynta worried that they risked more.

You can't do this without me.

Valkorion had been sedate since Aric's reveal of the mad Sith's long trapped father. He muttered ominous warnings in the back of Fynta's mind, but had yet to approach her outright. Fynta didn't think he was scared. More like the chakaar was plotting, biding his time until an opportunity presented itself; a way to take away her choice.

Fynta's comm buzzed across the room. A second later, Aric's joined it. Muttering a curse, Fynta wiggled out from under her husband's arm. Aric grumbled and rolled onto his back. "Thought we'd banned those things from the bedroom."

In the second it took Fynta to open her mouth for a snarky retort, the floor lifted her into the air. There was the feeling of weightlessness, a moment to think of some choice words, then her weight drove the air from Aric's lungs. Their eyes met, and Fynta's comm flickered to life at the end of the bed where it had landed. Theron appeared in muted blues, shirtless and typing furiously.

Fynta scrambled off her husband while he rolled to his feet to find his gear. "Theron, what the hell was that?"

Fynta had known Theron for a long time. She'd seen him in all manner of circumstances from exasperated friend to cold blooded murderer, even a desperate lover once or twice. She'd never seen fear on his face, not until his hazel eyes met hers through the holo. "It's Vaylin. She found us."

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 16 (Into the Void)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Fynta and Aric still have some things to work through. Verin offers some brotherly advice (and violence). And the council, once again, regrets every decision that led them to where they are.

Chapter Word Count: 3,402 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Theron Shan, Zolah Holran, Lana Beniko, Shillet Jorgan, Verin Ejnar-Wolfe

Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

  The Thunderclap   Leaving Nathema

 Aric glared at the gleaming box on the edge of his desk. Strange that such a menacing device could look so innocuous when Aric picked it up. He didn’t know why he’d pilfered the holocron, or what he planned to do with it, only that it felt important. An idea niggled at the back of Aric’s mind, roosting there until it could reach maturity.

 “Did you hear me?” Aric leaned back in a desk chair that might as well have a permanent impression of his ass. Shillet waited on the other side of his comm, black eyes glaring into the camera. He saw the accusation. Aric had interrupted whatever she’d been working on, but couldn’t be bothered to keep his attention on the conversation he’d started.

 Scooping the datacron into a drawer, Aric gave his daughter an apologetic nod. “Sorry, kiddo, what was that?”

 The teenager in question rolled her eyes, then went back to painting her toenails. Shillet had grown into a woman overnight, filling out in ways that made Aric uncomfortable with so many young men on the base. She’d also taken to wearing makeup and doing things like painting her nails. Not for the first time, Jorgan wondered if there was a boy involved, but he was too much of a coward to ask. Maybe he’d comm Elara to see if she knew anything.

 “I said ‘how did it go?’” Shillet leaned forward to blow on the wet paint. “You weren’t out of contact as long as I expected.”

 Was that disappointment that Aric heard in his daughter’s voice? “Missed the target,” his gaze slid towards the drawer, “made some interesting discoveries, though.”

 “That’s good, then, right?” Shillet screwed the cap on and fanned one hand over her feet. “It’s better than nothing, at least.”

 Aric started to answer that he didn’t know. That he might have found a weapon or a shield, but wasn’t sure which way to wield it or who to tell. Fynta had wanted to blow the thing up, so she probably wouldn’t approve of him removing it from the vault. All Aric knew was that it was important.  

 “And I’ve lost you again.” Shillet sighed.

 “I’m still here,” Aric grumbled, then sat straight when the door to their room opened and Fynta swept in. “So is Fynta.”

The woman waved, then tapped the side of her head to let Aric know that she was on another call. She’d been in near continuous contact with Odessen discussing what had been discovered on Nathema. Everything from Vaylin’s tortured childhood and the strange absence of the Force, to the world shaking dread that came with realizing that Vaylin’s full potential had been unlocked.

 “We need those numbers, Theron.” Fynta ended the call, then learned over with a grin. “You look nice. Any particular reason?”

 Jorgan clenched his jaw to keep from growling and tried to be invisible for fear that Shillet wouldn’t answer if he drew attention to himself. Shillet flushed a deeper shade of green, and Jorgan saw red. He didn’t need this added stress on top of everything else and contemplated finding a reason to ground the girl until he got home. He’d      definitely     need to speak to Elara.

 Fynta slid into Jorgan’s lap, looping one arm around his neck while he sorted through the boys Shillet’s age on base. “How was the movie?”

 “It was fine, stupid actually.” Shillet crossed the room to put her supplies away, calling out to the comm she’d left behind. “I thought I might help unload the ships. A bunch of kids work there on the weekends for school passes.”

     What’s his name,    lingered at the back of Jorgan’s throat, but Fynta answered instead. “Take Tranx and Zula. Those two have been going stir crazy.” Fynta’s smirk turned devious. “I think Torian does some maintenance there too.”

 “Torian,” Jorgan heard himself say before he could stop it. A sense of relief washed over him at the knowledge that Shillet’s crush was on a man who would never take advantage of her. Not to mention, the Mandalorian chief was head over heels for Fynta’s pet Jedi. Once more, Jorgan was struck by the startling realization that he trusted Mandalorians with his most precious people than anyone else.

 Fynta carried on without acknowledging Jorgan, but Shillet dropped her head enough that a couple of tendrils fell across her face. “Listen, if it’s a boy’s attention you’re after, you’ve got to show them that you’re serious.” Fynta nudged Jorgan with a grin. “Blow something up.”

 Jorgan stood, dropping Fynta onto the floor from her perch on his thighs. She laughed, and Shillet did her best to hide a smile. Jorgan ignored them both. “On that note, please don’t take dating advice from Fynta.” He avoided any mention of motherhood. Neither woman took the insinuation well, and he didn’t want to upset the comfortable rhythm that they’d found.

 Fynta cupped her hands to her mouth, amplifying her voice while still sitting on the floor. “It worked on your father.”

 “Okay.” Shillet dragged the word out and leaned forward. “I’m going to go eat dinner. See you when you get home.”

 The call ended, and Fynta met Jorgan’s glare with a bright smile. “What? She knows that I was kidding.”

 “Does she?” Jorgan held out one hand, pulling Fynta upright with a grunt. “What if she believed you?”

 “It was a joke, Riduur.” Fynta patted Jorgan’s cheek and stepped away. “She’s practically an adult,      and    you and Elara raised her well. Give the girl some breathing room.”

 Jorgan clenched his fists and followed, looming so that Fynta knew that he was serious. “She’s thirteen, that’s not an adult.”

 “It is by my standards.” Fynta turned to open one of the drawers and began counting ammo magazines.

 Jorgan hadn’t intended to lash out, but before he understood his own actions, his fingers were wrapped around Fynta’s bicep, and she stared wide-eyed into his face. “Shillet isn’t Mandalorian.”

 Jorgan knew the growled words hurt. He wanted to regret them, but he couldn’t. Still, he should have chosen a better way to say them. “Fynta—”

 “You’re right,” Fynta interrupted, placing her hand over his. Jorgan’s fingers loosened under the unspoken threat. He hadn’t gripped her hard, but Fynta wouldn’t tolerate being handled in such a manner, nor should she.

 Lifting his hands, Jorgan let go of his wife and stepped away. “I’m sorry.”

 “I will never push anything you are uncomfortable with.” Fynta touched Jorgan’s cheek again, but it was fleeting. “She’s      your     daughter.” And like that, the familial moment shattered.

 Fynta put space between them, and Jorgan didn’t feel right about closing it yet. With a sigh, he plopped onto the bed and ran a hand over his head.  “I don’t want to fuck this up anymore than I already have.” He chanced a glance at Fynta, waiting until she met his eyes. “Any of it.”

 Fynta dropped the magazine she’d checked back into the box, then knelt in front of Jorgan. “You and I, we’re always good.” She pressed a quick kiss to Jorgan’s lips. “And, Shillet is a great kid.”

 Again, Fynta pulled away before Jorgan could reply. Her nails scraped over his scalp as she headed for the door, towards her escape. “I’m going to check on Verin, he took a nasty knock to the head. See you in a bit.”

 “I’ll be here,” Jorgan answered, but his wife was already gone. With a snarl, Jorgan flopped onto the bed and glared at the ceiling. With everything he cared for close by, why did Jorgan still feel like his world was falling apart?

The Thunderclap En Route to Odessen Conference Room    “How about a drink, Fyn’ika?” Verin pressed his palms into the table across from where Fynta stared through a holomap. She was parsecs away, lost in a way he’d seen before. She blinked, focusing on him through whatever thoughts occupied her attention. Verin flashed a crooked grin and lifted a couple of dark bottles. “Come on, vod’ika. I smuggled in some netra’gal.”

 “Why didn’t you tell me that on the way      to    fighting the voidspawn?” Fynta leaned across the table to snatch one of the Mandalorian specialties and twisted the top off by brute force. “I could use a decent drink about now.”

 Spinning around one of the deck mounted chairs, Verin straddled the seat and watched his sister. “So, are you going to tell me what’s really going on, or do I have to drag it out of Jorgan?”

 Fynta lowered her drink and rubbed her eyes. “The old bastard is talking again.” She tapped her temple. “He’s scared of Vaylin, and was      not     happy about our trip to Nathema. And, I’ve got this headache from hell thanks to all of the Force suppression stuff. I can only imagine how Lana feels.”

 Verin propped his elbows on the chair back and settled in to let his sister talk herself in circles. Fynta didn’t disappoint. She spun her bottle in a lazy circle on the table. “I’d hoped that Arcann would join us, but he’s not confident in his ability to resist Nathema’s pull. Probably a good thing now that I’ve been there.” Without warning, Fynta thumped her head against the table. “And, Aric’s mad at me again.”

 “Why now?” Verin asked, taking another sip. He let the sweet liquid warm him from the inside, steeling his nerves for the tough conversation to come.

 “Mostly because I’m osik around kids.” Fynta gestured around the room without lifting her face from the table. Her words were muffled against the false wood polish. “It’s one of the rare moments when we can’t see eye to eye on anything.”

 “I’ve been meaning to ask how that was going?” Verin expected some hiccups while Fynta tried to find her place in Shillet’s life, but the pushback from Aric surprised him. Verin supposed some things couldn’t span the gaps between their cultures. That had never been a problem for them because they hadn’t planned on having children. The galaxy had a way of turning people’s plans inside out. Verin knew that better than most.

 When Fynta looked up, it was with a violent shake of her head. “No, we’re not doing that.” She chugged the netra’gal, then smacked her lips. “New topic.”

 “Okay.” Verin took a drink, dragging the silence out to let the annoyance drain from Fynta before continuing. “What’s happened since Darvannis?” She’d had the coveted lust for life then. She fought and loved and laughed. Perhaps she still did, but it sounded hollow.

 Fynta shrank into herself, knees curling against her chest and chin propped on them like when she was just a skinny kid. “You gave me Cinlat’s haalas gaid, armor that she lived and died in. Of everything learned from her time among Mandalorians, that was the only part that she truly loved.” Fynta offered a wry smile and tipped her head in Verin’s direction. “Apart from you.” The old sting of loss surfaced, but time had dulled the effect.

 Verin didn’t interrupt. He could see that Fynta was building to her point, but had taken the long way around. Letting out a breath, Fynta plopped her chin back on her knees and hugged them closer. Once again the little girl from that night so long ago when it became just the two of them against the galaxy.

 “I’m not Mando’ade anymore, Verin.” The words felt like a blow to his stomach. He wanted to argue or snort in disagreement, but made himself stay silent. If he spoke too soon, she’d shut down.

 “I’ve been thinking about it,” Fynta continued. “The Resol’nare is as close to a religion as we have. How many do I follow? Speaking the language, sure. Wearing the armor, I am now thanks to your gift. I’m bred to fight, but I won’t answer the call of the Mand’alor.” Fynta snorted. “Shab, she answers mine. And Shillet...I can’t force that decision on her. Not when her father is Cathar.”

 Verin nodded. “Have you two discussed it? Shillet, I mean.”

 Shaking her head, Fynta seemed to remember the beer in her hands and drained half the bottle in one pull. Sighing, she smacked her lips. “We’ve tiptoed around it, but Aric being her father doesn’t make me the girl’s mother. She’s got Elara for that. The woman raised that child. I’m...a friend. Shillet respects my authority and no longer believes that I’m a danger to Aric’s happiness, but it’s different.”

 Fynta shrugged, then drained the rest of the bottle. “I’m not a Republic soldier, not a Mandalorian, not a mother. What am I?”

 “You’ve forgotten the spirit of mandokarla. Life fluctuates, and we evolve. Are the ones who are forced into the ba'slan shev'la less Mando’ade than the ones who remain in society?”

 “No, but—” Fynta’s eyes narrowed when Verin snapped his fingers.

 Leaning back, Verin laced them behind his head and grinned. “You’re overthinking it. It’s not always all or nothing. We work with what we’re given.”

 Fynta sighed. “Yeah.” Verin leaned forward and smacked her on the back of the head. She snarled a curse while rubbing it. “What the hell?”

 “Enough pity. Time to get back into life, Fyn’ika.” Verin dodged her response with a laugh. “You’ve got a husband and a daughter. Whatever happens with them is up to you, but it won’t turn out well if you don’t get back into it.”

 Fynta snorted and muttered an insult under her breath, but her eyes weren’t dull anymore. She stood and checked her wrist chrono. “Shab, I’ve got another meeting. Thanks for the drink, ori’vod.” Verin nodded, lifting his bottle in salute while she headed towards the door. Fynta stopped, speaking without looking back. “Hang around for a bit, if you can.”

 “I get to sleep through the night here,” Verin chuckled and made a show of settling into the cushions, legs kicked out and feet on the table. “I’m not giving that up without a fight.”

 Odessen        War Room

 Images of broken tanks and derelict walls floated in the center of the table. The conference room was full to bursting, with senior members in the chairs while those who came in later positioned themselves around the walls. Fynta stood towards the back, having seen Nathema in person. Murmurs drifted through the air, but she had heard it all before.

 “The question now is what to do with this information.” Lana waved a hand, pausing the holo on the image of destruction left by Vaylin’s escape.

 “Is it relevant?” Zolah asked. The woman had her menagerie of men surrounding her, each wearing a furrowed brow specific to them. When every eye turned on the Chiss spy, she gestured at the image. “Whatever power that place had over Vaylin is broken. Does this information serve as anything beyond telling us that she is not only psychotic, but no longer leashed?”

 More murmurs. Fynta had theories, but she wasn’t ready to share them. Aric stood stiffly at her side, his fingers flexing around an invisible object. Fynta would need to look into whatever was troubling the Cathar later. For the moment, she counted down the time her presence was required before it would be rude to slip away.

 “You’ve been ignoring me.” Valkorion stood at Fynta’s side, startling a curse from her. The old Sith smiled in his demure way and nodded at the image. “Did you learn anything of…value?”

 For whatever reason, Valkorion had been unable to follow Fynta into the vault that protected her small party from Vaylin’s wrath. It had left her chilled, as if the ghost of Valkorion was a separate heat source instead of cold death. Fynta had learned plenty in those sprawling catacombs, and none of it surprised her.

 “Only that you’re as bad of a father as you are a benevolent ruler.” Fynta folded her arms and refused to look at him.

 Valkorion sighed while the meeting carried on around Fynta. She was surprised that the old bastard hadn’t stopped time again. “Vaylin needed to be controlled.”

 “She was your kid,” Fynta snapped. “As far as childhoods go, that was one of the shittiest I’ve ever seen., and I’ve seen some bad ones”

 “You aren’t considering a charity case, I hope.” It took Fynta a few seconds to realize that Lana’s barb was directed at her. When she glanced to her right, Valkorion was gone.

 Instead of trying to explain that Fynta hadn’t been talking to the collected group, she rolled with it. “Of course not. Mad dogs need to be put down.” Lana gave a quick jerk of her head, but Fynta wasn’t done. “Let’s keep in mind that this is a child who never grew up. Valkorion kept her chained in agony for years. It’s no wonder she went insane. Whatever our course of action, let’s make it quick and as clean as possible.” With that, Fynta pushed away from the wall and walked out. She was done with meetings and talking circles around a problem that none of them knew how to deal with.

 As expected, Aric fell into step at Fynta’s side. “You feeling sorry for her?”

 Fynta lifted a shoulder. “There’s not a lot standing in between Vaylin and any one of us ending up just like her. A push in the right direction, and we all go feral.”

 “Not everyone.” Aric bumped Fynta’s shoulder, and she forced a smile so that he’d know she appreciated his faith in her. Valkorion hummed in the recesses of Fynta’s mind. It felt like a fly buzzing around her head, the melody too quiet to pick out, but she      knew     it was there.

 Shillet waited at the door when Fynta and Aric got home. The smell of food hit Fynta’s stomach like a punch, but it was Aric who voiced their mingled surprise. “What’s all this?”

 “Dinner,” Shillet answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. Which, Fynta supposed it was. The Nautolan girl skipped to the table where an assortment of meats and vegetables that didn’t normally go together waited. She offered a wide, sharp grin. “These are the only things that I know how to make.”

 “It looks good,” Aric laughed while ruffling the girl’s head tresses. Fynta made a mental note to teach her a few Mandalorian staples to sneak into her father’s meals.

 The night carried on in companionable conversation. Fynta finally let herself relax long enough to invite Cormac, Tayl, and Elara over for a few drinks. The kids vanished into Shillet’s room, leaving the adults sitting around the table like old times. Fynta heaved a steadying breath and told herself that Vaylin could wait until tomorrow. Tonight was for family.

[cinlat]

👻 ☀️ 🍼 for fynta

Thanks for the ask!

👻  - Someone They Don’t See Often

It's no surprise that these two hit it off on Nar Shaddaa. If Fynta had met him before Jorgan, they'd have been a lot more that friends. Still, they stay in touch and send coded messages back and forth, much to Jorgan's grumbling.

☀️ - Someone who Can “Turn Lemons into Lemonade”

Who else but the literal ray of sunshine, Balic Cormac. He will always be Fynta's best friend. She could pull off half her antics without him.

🍼 - A Child (Theirs or Not)

Shillet is Jorgan's daughter, not hers, but that won't stop Fynta from getting into shenanigans with the girl. 13 is a very important age, regardless of whether Jorgan recognizes Mandalorian tradition or not.

*bonus scene of an all too familiar scolding. Jorgan never knew that a child could act so much like his wife having never met the woman and zero blood relation.

[cinlat]

My 3 favorite dads 💙

[cinlat]

Star Wars OC Week: Day 3 - Relationships

*art by @dingoat​

Relationships: ​

Fynta has been a loner most of her life, or so she thought. Over the course of her adventures, she picked up solid allies and found family. The picture above features Fynta and Jorgan, the ‘Mom and Dad’. Adopted daughter Shillet (Nautolan) Her best fried Balic Cormac, along with wife Elara Dorne and son Tayl. Fynta’s brother Verin with his second wife Keshal Vaak and their baby Jodi. On the other end would be Keshal’s son Tranx (Verin adopted him when he was 13) and fiance Zula Dun. Not to mention frenemies Theron and Lana, because who could forget them. And a much broader cast that I couldn’t possible fit all into one picture. 

Then, there are the friends she’s made off the books such as @kunoichi-ume​‘s Noara Starspark (and an entire cast of fun characters), @dingoat​‘s Ahuska, and @tishinada​‘s Ucevi to name a few (there are so many more). Thank you guys for sharing your people with me! I look forward to making all the new acquaintances soon.

*art also by @chaosandwonder

[cinlat]

Happy Life Day from all my ocs to yours!

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 13 (Family Ties)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Cormac finally gets to feel useful again, Fynta's luck hasn't changed, and Verin has brought a whole new level of trouble to Odessen.

Chapter Word Count: 6,741 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Shillet Jorgan, Balic Cormac, Lana Beniko, Theron Shan, Zolah Holran, Notiac Carlo, Koth Vortena, Verin Ejnar, Tranx Vaak, Zula Dun, Torian Cadera 

Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

*art by @dingoat​

 Odessen  Five Days Later  Commander's Quarters

"Stop whining." Fynta stood in the silent bedroom, but she could feel Aric's brooding from the kitchen.

The Cathar had thought of another complaint that morning. Aric had been insufferable since Lana's revelation about his supposed Force sensitivity. His mood swung wildly between crippling guilt and agitation. Fynta had tolerated it for the first hour; now, she was ready to shove her husband at the nearest soldier and have them do drills until she could deal with him again.

Aric's response wafted up the stairs while Fynta plaited her hair. "It's a valid concern."

Fynta rolled her eyes and tied off the strands. "No, it's not." She tugged on a jacket and started for the main room where Shillet waited with her face buried in a datapad. Fynta beseeched the girl to make Aric see reason. "Will you tell your father that he's an accomplished sniper due to years of hard work, please? He won't listen to me."

The Nautolan snorted, managing to roll her entire face towards Aric. "Will it get me out the door faster?"

"Probably not." Aric tipped back a bottle of water and tossed one to the girl. Then, he pointed at Fynta. "What if Lana's right? It makes me a liability in the field."

Shillet and Fynta groaned as one. With fingers curled into her palms, Fynta took a deep breath and let it out. "It's never mattered before, so I don't see why it would become a problem now. Whether it's fifteen years of practice or mystical Force osik, you're the best marksman I know. Now, can we please go?"

Aric narrowed his eyes, most likely searching for an insult in Fynta's exasperated praise, then held one arm towards the door. "We've been waiting on you."

Though she tried to resist, Fynta's tongue shot between her lips. Shillet's snort of laughter cut the tension, and Fynta snatched her rucksack from the floor. "You're the one that likes my hair long. I've got to braid it again."

It wasn't a complete lie. Fynta loved the way Aric played with her hair with idle fascination. It finally reached her shoulder blades, more than long enough to plait into a proper line instead of the intricate pattern that Keshal had taught her.

Changing the subject before Aric could argue that too, Fynta looked at Shillet. "Got your buy'ce?"

The Nautolan patted her backpack and started for the door. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad is this going to suck?"

"Depends on how badly you want to be a soldier," Fynta answered while Aric secured their quarters. They were taking Shillet into the mountains for some foul weather camping to teach the girl how her new armor worked. It wasn't beskar, but Fynta had managed to scavenge some plates from the armorer that would do for now. While the helmet wasn't airtight, it would protect her from the elements.

Before Shillet could answer, a familiar voice boomed through the corridor. "About time, I was thinking of starting without you." Cormac stood at the bend, hands on his hips and a grin plastered across his face.

Fynta's gaze slid to his leg, brow lifting at the lack of a brace. "Probably should have taken that head start, vod." The big man sputtered indignantly, and Fynta lifted her chin. "Seriously, are you up for this?"

"Hell yes." Cormac thumped his knee, filling the air with a meaty clap that was too dense to be flesh. "New and improved model with more flexibility. All thanks to the giant slug."

Fynta circled Cormac while he posed. "Elara approved?"

"Of course." Balic wiggled his ass when Fynta stopped behind him to study the profile of the brace through his pant leg. She smacked it, and he chuckled. "You think I'm brave enough to try without it?"

"Speaking of which," Aric interrupted. "Where is she?"

Cormac's smile faded. "Elara isn't fond of this sort of thing, and Tayl's too young to take on that ridge. They're going to sit this one out." Aric nodded his approval, while Shillet huffed and folded her arms. Cormac's grin returned as he leaned in conspiratorially. "Just means we don't have to share the snacks."

Shillet brightened while Fynta and Aric pretended not to notice that Cormac flashed a bag of brightly colored puffs that weren't on the packing roster. She'd have been more surprised had he not brought them.

As the small group moved through the base, Cormac cleared his throat. "Say, boss, when do you think I'll be fit for the field again?"

Fynta's stomach tightened at the prospect of her closest friend leaving the safety of the base. He had his wife and son, now; Cormac's place was with them, not risking his neck to keep her from doing something stupid. For years, he'd been her silent second for those things she knew Jorgan would disapprove of. Now, Fynta realized how selfish that had been. If she had her way, none of them would leave Odessen again.

"Let's see how this exercise goes," Fynta answered. She knew from the chagrin on the big man's face that it was the wrong one, and patted his arm to take the sting out of it. "I don't want to risk you setting yourself back."

Cormac snorted. "I've had more downtime with this," he gestured at his legs, then at hers, "than you did when you lost yours. Come on, Fynta. Put a weapon in my hands again. Let me be useful."

"What about Elara and Tayl?" Jorgan asked without looking over. He'd lowered his voice so that the accusation didn't travel to where Shillet walked a few paces ahead of them. She had her datapad out, scrolling through whatever kids her age thought of as entertainment.

A strange grunt worked through Cormac, and Fynta realized it was his version of one of Aric's growls, the sort that meant someone had trodden on forbidden territory. Aric didn't seem to have noticed, though Fynta knew he had. It was Aric's gift; to speak the hard truth when soldiers didn't want to hear it. The Cathar turned cool, blue eyes on Cormac. "You know I'm right."

Cormac scrubbed a hand over his bald head without replying, but Fynta saw the words in the way his jaw worked. He felt trapped and useless; she knew the feeling all too well. With a playful bump of her hip, Fynta tried to lighten the mood. "I'll get you that weapon." His lips split into a wide grin, but she held a hand up. "However, I won't take you from Elara and Tayl again. We'll work out a compromise, deal?"

"Right now, I'd take guard duty on the latrines," Cormac laughed and slapped Fynta on the back. "Thanks, boss. I knew I could count on you."

 Odessen  Mt. Ne'johaa  Northern Face  0400 Hours

Fynta stirred, thunder cracking through her dream while Valkorion stared at the sky. Slowly, her gaze lifted too, and they watched the storm rage from the top of the mountain. "What are you doing here?" Her words echoed through the valley despite the roar of the wind. It brought with it the sense of foreboding.

"A storm is coming," Valkorion answered, his voice stronger than Fynta had ever heard it. His robes snapped in the wind, no longer ethereal, but the rain didn't touch him. The man watched a bolt of lightning obliterate a tree in the valley, seemingly unimpressed by the destructive power of nature, then looked down at her.

Fynta dragged her attention from the sky to the dead Sith. Loose strands of hair stung her cheeks. "It's already here."

A smile curled Valkorion's lips, triggering a knot in Fynta's stomach. "You are almost ready."

"Fynta." Aric's voice warmed the back of Fynta's neck. The storm continued to rage outside, tugging at the tent like an animal searching for a way in. He shifted and stretched one arm across her body to swat at an infernal buzzing. Aric chuckled when she pulled his hand against her chest. "Fynta, the comm."

"Fucking comm," Fynta growled. Forcing her eyes open, Fynta gauged the distance between her husband's warmth and the device that connected her to responsibilities that she'd never asked for. With a curse, Fytna retreated from the thermal sleeping bag long enough to snatch the infuriating link, then scrambled back into Aric's embrace. He folded the blanket around them while she answered. "What?"

Fynta's chattering teeth took some of the bite out of her response. Not that it would have mattered to the woman on the other end. The time displayed beneath Lana's perfectly groomed features read 0400 hours. Likely, the Sith had never gone to bed, leaving Fynta feeling like a chakaar for snapping at her.

Lana countered Fynta's foul mood with calm. "You're needed back at base."

A heavy sigh sounded behind Fynta as Aric rolled away. She knew that he'd contact Cormac to warn the man that they'd be bugging out early. Rubbing a hand down her face, Fynta nodded at the Sith. "On our way." There was no point asking why. If Lana hadn't wanted Fynta to know, she would have said so immediately. Fynta had stopped trying to make the Sith play by her rules months ago.

When Fynta turned, Aric had a holo of Cormac balanced on his thigh. The big man yawned, then scraped a hand over his head. "No problem. The storm is supposed to pass in a couple of hours. Shillet's exhausted, slept through the whole thing so far, I'll get her down the mountain when the weather clears."

"I owe you." Aric ended the call and looked over his shoulder. "Never fails."

Fyna forced a grin that she didn't feel and kissed Aric's cheek. "At least we had our clothes on this time."

Aric's smirk matched Fynta's in spirit. They broke camp quietly, though she doubted Cormac could have heard them over the wind. The man had probably gone back to sleep, using his younger tent mate as an excuse to dodge the heavy lifting. The creative ways she'd tease the man later lifted Fynta's spirit enough to make the task of packing everything in the rain bearable. While Fynta's armor kept her dry, they'd need to break everything out and dry it as soon as they had the chance. She didn't look forward to the mud-soaked slide back down the mountain either.

By the time Aric and Fynta made it to the bottom, the sun had turned the sky a drab grey. No light penetrated the cloud cover, so Fynta assumed the storm still raged at the top. Aric removed his helmet once they stepped inside and looked back the way they'd come. Fynta put a hand on his arm. "She'll be fine. This is what Cormac did for a living before Havoc Squad."

Sighing, Aric followed Fynta into the base. "Yeah, I know."

Fynta tried to hide her smile as her husband sulked past, then it slipped when she realized that she wasn't concerned about the girl's safety. It was a surreal moment, realizing that she had proof that she'd be a terrible mother. Shillet was thirteen, sleeping in a tent in the middle of a storm, and would have to climb down a slippery cliff with only one other person to spot for her. And, he had a busted leg. Shab, she really was osik at this.

With a new weight in her chest, Fynta started for the meeting room without bothering to change. If the war council didn't like her wearing mud-covered armor, then they should have let her sleep. Fynta and Aric were the last to arrive. Lana, Vector, Quinn, Theron, Koth, Solish, and Notiac all waited around the council table. Fynta noted the absence of Torian, Kaeto, and Kozen, and made a mental note to ask about their whereabouts.

"Sorry for the delay," Fynta said by way of greeting. She threw herself into a chair and waved for Lana to begin while Aric paced the back wall. Fynta knew better than to suggest the man sit when he had something on his mind.

"Senya woke two hours ago," Lana stated without preamble. Fynta paused in the middle of a yawn and blinked at the Sith who continued without notice. "She is still weak, but healed. Kaeto is with her now, and Captain Dorne estimates no more than 3 weeks before she is battle ready."

Koth stirred on the other side of the table. "For us?" He used the same clipped tone as every other time the Zakuulan knight came up. Fynta knew they had made an effort to become cordial, and she couldn't help but wonder if this new malice came from the sting of fresh betrayal. He'd offered a truce, and Senya had stolen their chance to kill Arcann. Now, what could have been the end of a war, had spiraled into a manhunt.

Lana's lips pressed into a thin line, and Notiac picked up the explanation before her lover could scold Koth. "Conditionally." The Jedi activated a holo in the middle of the table. "She recorded a message before succumbing to exhaustion."

"I know that many of you are not pleased to see me." The woman speaking looked older than Fynta expected. Her silver hair brushed shoulders that looked too narrow to support the pauldrons that normally adorned them. Dark circles hung beneath Senya's grey eyes, but the voice was strong. "I chose to save my son. I do not expect you to agree or understand. I've already lost one, and—" Senya paused, her throat working against the anguish in her eyes. Whatever she'd planned to say didn't escape as words.

Leaning forward, Fynta steepled her fingers beneath her chin while Senya pleaded her case. "Arcann is not the same. He can still be reasoned with. Allow me to search for my son, and I promise you complete fealty and the use of my skills until this war is over." The woman eased higher in her bed, jaw locked in a stern expression. "He is confused and afraid, but there is hope for him."

The recording ended, leaving the room in silence. "So," Fynta interjected when no one else spoke. "Not for Vaylin?"

"She wasn't mentioned," Lana admitted.

Fynta chewed the inside of her lip, swiveling the chair side to side while she considered this not wholly unanticipated development. "Does she know about the conditioning?"

"She does now," Lana answered, though the normally chatty woman didn't appear to enjoy the topic. "There was no evidence that she had prior knowledge and the horror was...as expected."

Lana had displayed an aversion to Vaylin's mind control from the beginning. Fynta grew more curious about the woman's reaction, but hadn't thought of a tactful way to approach it. After all, few at the table hadn't experienced some loss of agency during their careers. Fynta had the fierfeking Sith Emperor living in her head, and all Lana had displayed was mild annoyance back in the swamp when Fynta had let Valkorion save the woman's life.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Fynta leaned back in her chair. "Let's keep an eye on that. I don't trust Senya to think rationally when her children are concerned."

Theron knocked his knuckles against the table, and Fynta groaned at the signal that he was about to hijack the meeting. "While we're here, we need to discuss Vaylin's party. I have a plan."

"Is it a good one?" Fynta asked, regretting her choice to wear soiled armor instead of changing into something more comfortable.

Fynta knew the man well enough to see the adolescent snark on the tip of his tongue when Zolah spoke up. "He's come up with worse." Fynta smirked until the chair next to her filled with a surly Aric. He'd already been banned from that mission on the belief that a Cathar would be too recognizable at what was sure to be a mostly human party. Naturally, he hadn't taken the news well.

"You're both hilarious," Theron groused as he tapped on the datapad. A detailed schematic of the palace took the place of Senya's heartfelt pleas. Along with a diagram of how Zakuulan Knight armor fastened together. The spy droned on about contacts, levels of operation, and guard shift schedules.

Fynta held up a hand, stopping Theron mid-sentence. "What's with the armor?"

"I'm getting to that," Theron snapped. "Hold all questions until the end."

Koth pulled a face that made Fynta snort, and Theron's ears turned an unhealthy shade of red while he continued to speak. "Vector and Quinn have volunteered to be our eyes on the floor. They'll fit in with the population easily enough, and Vaylin doesn't know their faces. You and I will take the guards."

"Who's providing backup when everything goes to shit?" Aric asked, voice thick with the agitation that he'd never been good at holding back.

When Fynta met her husband's gaze, she was careful not to let the pity she felt for him show. "I'll take Torian and Felix. They're both proven in the field."

"And me," Koth added with a raised finger. "Since we're taking my ship and all."

Hurt shone in Aric's eyes that Fynta held her ground on his part in this mission. They'd promised to stay together, even though they'd known it to be a lie. Shillet needed her father on base, now more than ever. The fact that Zakuul didn't host many aliens was a convenient excuse to leave him behind, and he knew it.

The tickle of a vibrating comm distracted Fynta from her guilt long enough to silence it. The moment had moved on, though Fynta knew Aric would have something to say when they were alone. Vector continued, melodious and soothing while he outlined the sequence of events. Vector and Quinn would enter first, while Theron and Fynta snuck in through the service entrance. They would incapacitate a couple of guards, steal their armor, and travel deeper into the complex. Meanwhile, Zolah would work from a low orbit shuttle with Torian and Felix prepped for extraction should the worst happen. Overall, it was a flimsy plan doomed to failure, but it left plenty of room for improvisation.

When the meeting was finally called to an end, Aric pushed from the table and left without a word. Fynta tried to follow, but got caught in last minute suggestions. A quarter of an hour passed before she could extricate herself from the group to follow her husband.

The lights were on when Fynta entered her quarters, but Aric didn't meet her at the door. She found him on their bed, eye patch tossed onto the side table and his legs stretched out while he read. Fynta knew something was wrong when he didn't acknowledge her. "Go ahead," she sighed, removing her gloves so that she could start on the rest of her armor. "Get it out of your system now."

"Get what out of my system," Aric asked with a flat note that chilled Fynta's blood. She glanced at him, then shucked the rest of her armor and let it stay where it fell. When she was done, Fynta positioned herself at the bottom of the bed, folded her arms, and lifted one eyebrow at her husband. She would stand like that all night if she had to, but Fynta refused to sleep while he was angry.

"Do you have any idea what the last six years have been like?" Aric's voice remained emotionless. Fynta didn't move or speak, and the amount of fury in that one glacial eye stole her breath when he found her face. "To have no idea where my wife was, to be told that she was dead, that I'd be discharged for continuing to look for her. To know that I'd spend the rest of my life alone because you were too much of a goddamned hero to consider what you might be leaving behind."

Fynta stared at her husband, speechless while he fumed. She'd only seen him like this one other time, seething to his core over the injustices they'd suffered. It had been the moment before he put a bolt through Agent Zane.

Aric released his rage with a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "My biggest regret," he continued, voice low and rough, "was letting you walk off that ship. Now, I've got a room full of people telling me to do it again."

"We both knew this would happen." Aric's derisive snort cut off the rest of Fynta's argument. She knew better than to continue when he was in a mood like this, so she did the only other thing that came to mind.

Crossing the room, Fynta snatched Aric's comm from the desk and thumbed through his messages until she found the one that she knew he hadn't deleted. "Hey, dad." Shillet's wobbly voice filled the room, and Fynta watched Aric go rigid while listening to his daughter act like she wasn't dying inside. It had been from the night she'd learned about the recall, and her final attempt to reach out to the father she'd never see again.

Fynta heard the abandonment in the girl's words the same as Aric, but she read a completely different message from it. Shillet had been a daughter who wanted to be strong for the man who had changed her life, not an accusation of poor parenting. Fynta didn't understand why Aric chose to keep that recording, and she felt lousy for using it against him, now.

When the message ended, silence filled the space it had left behind. Aric's chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, then his lips pulled back into the dangerous snarl. "That's a low blow."

"I'm sorry, Riduur." Fynta set the comm down where it had been, then walked around to Aric's side of the bed. He glared up at her, jaw tensing when she cupped it between her fingers. "But, I'll do what I have to to keep you both safe. She needs you right now, stay and be her father."

To Fynta's surprise, Aric swung his legs over the bed and pulled Fynta close enough to rest his face against her stomach. "I hate having to choose."

"Me too." Fynta ran her nails over Aric's scalp until he released another long breath. The argument was over. As much as Fynta wanted him by her side, he couldn't leave Shillet, not so soon after getting her back. They needed this time to recover; Fynta would find her place after the war was won. "I'll be fine. It's just a party."

 Odessen  Outdoor Landing Platform

Verin set foot on the metal platform and immediately scooted to the railing. Seven pairs of boots ran past, their owners shouting and shoving as teenagers did. He smiled at the stampeding horde, laughing at the startled looks of the poor shabuir who had no idea what Torian had unleashed on their lives.

The crisp smell of winter in the mountains made up for the stuffiness that came from two weeks of recycled air. Verin even welcomed the bite of cold on his cheeks. He took a moment to savor the quiet peace of Odessen while it lasted, then called up to the Fett who'd been tasked with emptying the ship. "That all of them?"

The man snorted a laugh and replied with a hand gesture that would have pushed Verin to anger had he not understood the man's glee at having a peaceful ship again. "K'oyacyi, vod." Fett didn't wait for Verin's response. They'd refuel, restock, then get the hell off Odessen before Torian decided to send the verd'ika back. Verin had already made it clear that he wouldn't be making that trip again.

After watching the loading ramp seal, Verin started towards the main hub of the Alliance Base. He kept the tail end of the weaving mass of teens in view, but made no effort to catch up. They veered towards what Verin assumed was a cantina judging by the sharpness of the turn, then came to a sudden stop. The back end of the group slammed into the front, then was nearly flattened when the kids in the front scrambled away from the doorway. By the time Verin reached them, he saw the reason for their lost momentum.

Torian and Fynta blocked the cantina entrance, one with arms crossed, and the other hands on hips. Verin pushed through the group to embrace his sister and alor. "Su cuy'gar," he laughed, elbowing Tranx out of his stupor. The boy had talked non stop about his aunt after her visit to Darvannis. He'd planned all the challenges, activities, and training to do with the infamous Fynta Wolfe, then promptly lost his ability to speak every time they were near one another. Verin thought it was hilarious, Keshal found her son's awe annoying.

"What's all this?" Fynta asked as she embraced Verin. While Mandalorians didn't bow to anyone, they understood respect. Torian was their alor, the chieftain who'd restored the Cadera clan and brought honor to their families again. Fynta was something more, a Mandalorian who ran a galactic army, killed emperors, and represented the indomitable Mando'ade of legend. Tranx wasn't the only youngster standing in wide-eyed silence.

"Did I forget to mention it?" Torian asked, taking his turn to greet Verin with a rough gripping of forearms. Fynta's brow lifted, and Verin burst into a fit of laughter.

Unease ripple ran through the gathered warriors who didn't know if they should join Verin's merriment or find somewhere else to be. Tranx settled on a grin, but it was his fiance who answered. "We're here for training." Zula folded tiny arms and studied the woman they'd come to meet. "Supposedly, you're the best."

Verin wiped his eyes, steadied his laughter, and clapped Torian on the shoulder. "Alor, you have gett'se of beskar." Clearing his throat, he tried to act professional while staring into the dawning horror on his little sister's face. "Torian invited the next generation for some...controlled battle practice."

"Is that so?" Fynta's gaze slid over the expectant faces, finally settling on Zula. She reached an arm out, letting it hover in the space between them. "You must be the woman who's going to set my nephew straight."

Zula eyed Fynta's offering with the suspicion of a girl who'd grown up without a clan. Her family had lived on the fringes, waiting to be invited back after Jicoln's disastrous uprising. Verin didn't know who they'd belonged to, but had been more than happy to swear loyalty to Torian when he offered.

At last, the small redhead gripped Fynta's arm with a nod. "Yeah, I think I can do that." Her gaze slid in Tranx's direction, and a smirk twitched her lips. "Provided he grows up."

Like that, the tension broke and nervous chuckles turned to easy banter with more than a few lewd jokes aimed at Tranx. With introductions out of the way, Fynta rubbed the top of Tranx's head, mussing his artfully styled strip of hair. He was a head and a half taller than Fynta now, and still growing. Verin often forgot how big the boy was until he saw him standing next to someone else. Tranx was shedding the gangly profile of adolescence, adding muscle and inches onto a frame that would become impressive. The older he got, the more Tranx looked like the father who sired him.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Fynta asked with a laugh, tearing Verin from his thoughts. She had one arm looped around Tranx's waist in a matronly embrace while aiming animated hand gestures at Zula.

Tranx's fiance was short and skinny, all red hair and freckles with the mad, green eyes of a proper Mandalorian woman. She grinned and leaned forward as if to impart a secret. "We'll see if he can keep up."

Laughter and catcalls erupted from the gathered youth while Tranx made attempts to defend his reputation. Fynta chuckled and patted his chest. "I like this one."

Pulling away, Fynta waved for one of her people to take control of the group. He was a clanless Mandalorian, judging by his armor, but Fynta assured Verin that there was none more suited to handling the horde that he'd brought to Odessen. Verin watched his kids vanish into an industrial lift and forced his rising pulse to calm. Tranx was a man by their traditions, not a child that needed to be coddled. Still, sending his son away with a stranger tweaked Verin's nerves.

"Your timing couldn't be worse," Fynta sighed when they were alone. She nodded for Verin to walk with her and Torian into a smaller lift that he assumed would take them inside. "Torian and I are about to leave for a mission, and I have no idea how long it'll take."

"Oh no," Verin shoved between the alor and his sister. "You're not leaving me here alone with these kids again. This was your idea." He jabbed a finger at Torian, as much of an accusation as a threat.

Torian chuckled and batted Verin's hand away. The lift doors closed, and Fynta rounded on them both. "Speaking of which, what the hell? You weren't going to warn me about a bunch of shiny baby Mandos?"

With a shrug, Torian affected an innocent look that still worked on his younger-than-natural features. He was well into his thirties, but still carried the youthful glow of a much younger man. That had always annoyed Verin. "Must've slipped my mind."

"Right." The lift dinged open, and Fynta stepped out. "Just for that, I'm sicking them on your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Verin leaned forward to look at the man. "Could it be true?"

Torian muttered some not nice things in Mando'a that both Fynta and Verin ignored. "She's a Jedi," Fynta continued as they wove deeper into the base without offering any direction for Verin to memorize. "You've met her. The cute one that came to Darvannis with me."

Verin felt his cheeks rise further. "Noara? The spunky Jetii who wanted to Force wedgie Fett?" Torian rolled his eyes, and Verin laughed again. "We need to get drinks. I've got to hear how this happened."

"On that note." Torian turned down a separate hallway, walking backward while he spoke. "You two stay out of trouble. I'm going to warn Noara that she's just inherited new students. Then, cook her dinner."

Verin wiggled his fingers in a mocking salutation to his old friend, then turned back to Fynta. "I hear you've been busy. Where's the husband?"

"Aric's in a strategy session with some of the military heads right now," Fynta answered, turning down another hallway. Verin had lost count of how many they'd taken, but the smell of food hinted that they were nearing the living quarters. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to learn about our new arrivals, too. It'll be a hell of a way to introduce Shillet to that side of the family."

At the mention of his niece, Verin sobered. "How's that going, by the way?" He'd heard from Torian about the rescue mission. Keshal's warning rang in the back of Verin's mind, and now that he was with her, he saw the tension in Fynta's posture. She was a mother now; she'd never planned for that.

Fynta shrugged. "She's Aric's daughter. We're still in a transitory stage, you know? Getting to know each other." Pressing her palm to the panel, Fynta paused before opening the door. "We're figuring it out."

Verin held his hands up. "I won't interfere." Fynta nodded and led the way into her personal space. It was spartan with only a few touches of personalization. Not that Verin expected more from a couple brought together by the military. What few items that were used for decorative purposes looked to have real world application as well.

A young, green skinned Nautolan lounged on the couch with a datapad three inches from her nose. Verin wasn't sure what to expect, but an average teenager hadn't been it. Listening to Aric talk about his daughter over the years made Verin think of a little girl. This one's legs were long enough at thirteen to drape over the arm of the sofa.

"Shillet," Fynta greeted, ruffling the girl's head tresses as she passed the couch. "Meet your uncle Verin. He's an idiot, but we love him."

Black eyes peered over the datapad, then Shillet sat up. "I've heard a lot about you. Is it true that both of your wives shot you?"

Verin chuckled, casting a vengeful look at his sister. "Only the first one. The second likes to make threats, but she's harmless."

Shillet giggled. "So, what do I call you? Fynta said that buir means both mom and dad. Do you have a word for uncle?" She slid her knees up to make room for Verin to sit on the other end of the sofa.

"We don't have masculine or feminine words. Ba'vodu means both, looking to learn?" Verin threw one arm over the back of the cushion and spared a glance at Fynta. She met his eyes with lifted brows. At least it sounded like she'd made attempts to teach her new daughter their ways, but he wondered how much resistance Aric put up.

"Yeah," Shillet answered, sitting straighter. The girl was skinny, but not in the fit way that Zula boasted. Shillet had no muscle mass on her body, something that she'd need to change before developing bad habits. "Fynta's been teaching me when she has the time. Running an army takes a lot, though."

Verin looked over at his sister again, then smiled at the girl. "My son and his future misses came with me, they're just a few years older than you. I bet Tranx and Zula would teach you the important things."

Shillet's eyes widened and Fynta cleared her throat. "We hadn't gotten that far yet." She joined them, two beers grasped between her fingers and a can of fizz pop for Shillet. Verin accepted his with a nod of thanks while Fynta attempted to sum up Mandalorian mating traditions. "Mando's die young, Shil'ika. So, we marry and procreate young too. Your average Mandalorian will get married between sixteen and twenty."

Shillet's mouth fell open, the standard reaction of an aruetii. Fynta took a drink of her beer and flopped into one of the chairs. "His son is sixteen, his girl a year younger. They won't get married until next year."

"But." Shillet looked between Fynta and Verin, grasping her drink in a white knuckled grip. "They're just kids."

"Remember when I told you that at thirteen you could take your verd'goten and be considered an adult?" Shillet nodded, and Fynta gestured like she'd made her point. "Tranx has been an adult for three years. In normal society that would put him at what, twenty?"

Shillet swallowed and picked at the tab on her can. Verin could tell what the girl's question would be long before she worked up the nerve to ask. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. "So, if I decide to become a Mandalorian. Do I have to get married in three years?"

"No." The word carried with it a finality that made Verin chuckle. Aric Jorgan stood in the doorway, his disapproving gaze sweeping the room. Fynta snickered into her beer and slid lower in the chair while Shillet blinked with a confusion that couldn't be faked.

Pushing himself off the couch, Verin rose to greet the brother he hadn't seen in nearly a decade. "Good to see you, again, vod."

Aric dropped his pack by the front door and shook Verin's hand. "Heard you'd arrived. Figured it'd take you longer to start converting my kid, though."

Verin gripped the Cathar's shoulder, carefully looking past the eyepatch. There was more white around the man's mouth than Verin remembered, and a ragged hunch to his shoulders that Verin understood all too well. Still, he painted on a wide smile and pretended to see none of it. "Shab, Aric. You're looking good for an old guy."

The Cathar flashed sharp teeth and patted Verin's arm. "And, you've gotten grey. How's being a father treating you?"

"Best feeling in the world." Verin stepped away from the Cathar so that he could greet Fynta and reclaimed his seat on the sofa. "But, I don't have to tell you that."

Aric kissed his daughter on the head, then shared a brief look with Fynta that Verin recognized. Something in the meeting hadn't gone as expected, and he needed to fill her in. A thought occurred to him then, and Verin smacked Shillet's calf where it rested by his leg. "How would you like to meet Tranx and Zula? You can show me where the Jedi keep their prisoners...I mean students." The Nautolan's features brightened before she looked at Aric and Fynta. Verin saluted them with his beer. "If that's alright with your folks."

"Fine with me," Fynta answered, then elbowed Aric when he took too long to agree.

The Cathar's expression could only be described as torn. Verin hoped the man had been joking earlier about converting his daughter. He wouldn't go against the wishes of any parent so long as they had their child's best interests in mind. They didn't have to align with his beliefs, only that the child wasn't being mistreated.

"Fine." Aric breathed the word, making it sound almost painful. He leaned a hip against the chair Fynta sat in and accepted Shillet's exuberant embrace when she leaped off the sofa. "Go get your coat."

While the Nautolan rushed into a curtained space that Verin assumed was her room, he stood and stretched. "Don't worry, I'll have her home by dinner. Only minor brawls, nothing serious."

Aric's scowl deepened, but it was Fynta who answered. "Better make sure she keeps her holo on, just in case." Verin nodded, hiding his amusement again. There was little doubt who the device would comfort.

Shillet appeared a moment later, hands wrapped in gloves with a sturdy jacket slung over her shoulder. She paused by Aric to kiss his cheek and bumped fists with Fynta before bounding up to Verin. "I'm ready."

As Verin turned towards the door, Aric cleared his throat. "You're not taking that, are you?"

Verin followed the Cathar's gaze to the beer bottle, still full, dangling from his fingers. With a dramatic sigh, he tossed it into the bin next to the door, quietly lamenting its loss. "Come on, kid," Verin laughed as they exited the room. "Let's go have some fun."

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 11 (Return)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Cranky teenagers, returning companions, the trials of fatherhood, and why the fuck can't Fynta catch a break?

Chapter Word Count: 5,079 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Zolah Holran, Vector Hyllus, Malavai Quinn, Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Shillet Jorgan, Verin Ejnar, Tranx Vaak, Zula Dun, Keshal Vaak, Lana Beniko, Darth Kozen, Pierce, Notiac Carlo, Kaeto Vaa, Felix Iresso, Torian Cadera, & Vette

Odessen Official Quarters 0200 Hours

Zolah found a kindred spirit in Malavai Quinn. He worked tirelessly, often joining her in the sitting room after hours to complete some report or another. Though the man never complained, and his intellect was astounding, Zolah got the impression that few tolerated his company as well as she and Vector. Quinn had become one of the few people allowed into Zolah’s inner sanctum, and Vector kept them supplied with fresh tea and snacks while they worked.

The flirting surprised Zolah. Quinn didn’t aim his affections, stilted though they were, towards her, but at Vector. Even now, while Zolah pretended to be engrossed in her task, Vector leaned over the chair that Quinn occupied and pointed out something in the man’s report. Quiet words exchanged, and Quinn corrected the error. It was like watching the graceful dance of two birds, each displaying colorful plumage while being wary of a reproachful peck. 

Zolah bit back a smile and tucked her knees closer to her chest so that she could hide behind her datapad. She vowed to stay out of their courtship and let whatever happened do so naturally. Zolah enjoyed having the Imperial around. He was a breath of fresh air in the anarchy that had overtaken the Alliance. Republic chaos infected most of the soldiers who’d joined from the Empire, leaving Zolah with few options for intelligent conversation. 

In days, Malavai had streamlined the usage of certain, innocuous materials and increased overall productivity by more than fifteen percent. Not a large number in the grand scheme of the Alliance, but the engineers in waste management were overjoyed with the decrease in their workload. Zolah made a note on the side window of her datapad to thank Empress Acina for her excellent choice in aid.

Vector’s comm buzzed, halting the low murmur of conversation. Zolah sat forward while he fished it out, then her heart skipped several beats when Theron’s profile appeared above the viewing platform. Scrambling from her chair, Zolah hurried to Vector’s side so that she could see their lover for herself. “Where the hell have you been?” 

Read the rest at Ao3

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 9 (Reunions and Tears)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Chapter Word Count: 5,224 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Zolah Holran, Vector Hyllus, Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Shillet Jorgan, Elara Dorne, Tayl Cormac

Author’s Note: Entire chapter under the cut for those who don’t want to follow the link.

Odessen Hangar Bay Elevator 0500 Hours

Zolah followed Fynta's progress through the base via the security cameras. She'd timed her interception in the elevator to cut off Fynta's escape routes. After some deliberation with Vector, and a few quiet threats in key places, they'd ascertained the commander's full scheme. The tricky part had been deciding what to do about it.

Fynta, like so many soldiers, operated under the misguided notion that she was the only one capable of fixing her own problems. Though Zolah would prefer to stay in the control room in case Theron's team made contact, Vector would not be swayed. He was more than capable of seeing this mission through without her, but Zolah had already lost contact with Theron. It pained her to admit that the thought of losing Vector too brought her to near panic. She came up with some excuse as to why she was the only one capable of hacking the Republic's systems and volunteered herself for the rescue mission. Vector's quiet smile nearly made her back out.

Checking off the final preparations for their mission, Zolah confirmed that Vector had gained access to the Thunderclap and had begun preliminary checks while she waited. The doors opened, revealing the commander of the Alliance with a rucksack thrown over one shoulder and a startled expression that pulled at the corner of Zolah's facade.

Zolah didn't look up from her datapad. "Seems rather foolish to take on a Republic infiltration by your lonesome." Slowly, her gaze lifted, pausing on to the tattoo surrounding Fynta's right eye. "Especially with such a recognizable face."

Blue eyes narrowed as the commander stepped in. "Theron or Vector?"

Zolah lifted one noncommittal shoulder. "Does it matter?" Finishing her task, she tucked the datapad out of the way. "You should recycle the passcodes on the Thunderclap more often. It was far too easy to break into."

Rage colored Fynta's cheeks an interesting shade of red. She pointed at Zolah, half a breath away from jabbing the accusing finger into her chest. "If you think disabling my ship will stop us—"

"Nonsense." Zolah waved the threat away with the same casualness that Vector had dismissed Elara's debt. Fynta's mouth dropped open, then snapped shut as suspicion took over. Zolah offered her sweetest smile. "Do you have a plan?"

"You show me yours, and I'll show you mine." Fynta's adolescent response was delivered with the expected grin.

Zolah hummed an amused sound that didn't make it to a chuckle. "Vector is currently performing preflight checks on your ship. I imagine your husband has discovered this by now, or soon will. It wouldn't do for us to miss our floor." Her gaze dipped towards the still blank control panel. Fynta spun with a curse and smashed the ball of her hand against the hangar bay selection that she desired and they continued the trip in silence.

Stepping off, Zolah was pleased to see the boarding ramp lowered and an armored figure checking off a list. It seemed that Jorgan hadn't met Vector's intrusion with as much animosity as Fynta had hers. Zolah couldn't say if that surprised her or not. Major Jorgan had a quick temper, but he was a logical man who knew when to accept aid.

Before they could approach, Fynta pulled Zolah to a stop. "Why?"

"Why am I going? Why am I allowing you to go? Or why did you not realize that you'd been made?" Zolah tipped her head, waiting for the answer to any of those questions. Fynta was brash, but even she couldn't expect to sneak off base without being noticed.

"Yes," Fynta answered, waving one arm at the ship. "All of them."

Zolah started walking again, one finger held aloft and leaving Fynta to catch up. "I am going because I am the best chance you have of pulling this off. You have training, but it is not nearly as extensive." She lifted a second when the commander pulled even. "Make no mistake. I have no stake in your family's drama, choices were made and consequences followed. However, Theron still considers you a friend, and I made him a promise. That, and Vector cares for you. For your last question…" Zolah paused to waggle the three didgets, savoring her next words. "You've gotten sloppy in recent years, not your fault, five years out of the game takes its toll, but I'll not risk the face of the Alliance because you've forgotten the fine art of subtly."

Fynta watched Zolah's fingers like a fish about to snatch bait from a hook. Her eyes narrowed, arms folding over her chest with a defiance that Zolah had become accustomed to. "I haven't gotten sloppy."

"Let me guess." Zolah began moving, covering the space between them and the Thunderclap at a quicker pace. "You're going to burst in, blasters hot, and hope for the best because—" the sound of her palms colliding echoed loud enough to make Jorgan glance up from his task. "—because you're Fynta."

"Fuck you," the woman snapped, in Basic no less. Zolah must have touched a nerve.

"Or," Zolah unlocked her datapad and offered it to the commander. "We could do it my way." She and Vector had begun contingency planning from the moment Jorgan arrived with Havoc in tow. With Theron's knowledge of Republic procedure, the whole thing practically built itself. Unbeknownst to her, Fynta had set the stage with her secret call to Elara for a bloodless extraction.

Fynta swiped through the screen, then doubled back around to the beginning. They'd reached the Thunderclap when she spoke. "Shab, this actually isn't half bad" A grin spread across her face as she returned the device. "It's damn good, actually. Okay, let's do this your way." She clapped Zolah on the back, kissed her husband's cheek, and started up the ramp.

Zolah blew out a long breath and shook her head. "I hate it when she does that." Instead of opposition, Zolah's plan had been met with total acceptance. Fynta Wolfe was still unpredictable, which made her both a liability and an asset. Zolah just hoped that whichever one the commander settled on this time, it worked in their favor.

The Thunderclap En route to Carrick Station

"I'm going." Fynta looked up from fastening her thigh plates to find Aric glaring at her from the doorway. The stubborn set to his jaw was unexpected, as was the amount of anger in his voice. Truthfully, Fynta would have worried if he hadn't demanded to be included.

Holding her hands up, Fynta surrendered without fully knowing what they were arguing over. "Wouldn't dream of leaving you behind." She heard the exhaustion in his voice, though, and saw the pain in his good eye. The Cathar's headaches persisted despite receiving a clean bill of health. The technical term for it had too many letters for Fynta to pronounce, but the doctors assured Aric that the pain would recede with time. Of course, those same medical professionals probably hadn't accounted for a covert mission into Republic territory, either.

Aric snorted, then slumped onto the bed and dropped his head into his hands. Fynta stepped in front of him, letting her fingers slide up the back of his neck to massage his scalp. The muscles there were alway tense these days. She beat down her own sense of failure for putting her loved ones in this position. Not for the first time, Fynta teetered on the edge of what if, fantasizing about things that were impossible. "It's almost over, riduur. Just breathe."

Nodding, Aric rested his forehead against Fynta's stomach. "Yeah." After a minute, he stood and adjusted the strap encircling his skull. "Let's do this." He was so close to breaking that Fynta worried any more disappointment would tip him over the edge. She refused to fail her husband again.

The speaker in the corner of their room crackled, the irritating noise soothed by Vector's melodic tones. "Ten minutes until arrival." Fynta liked him better than anyone else in the Alliance. The Joiner was odd, but in an endearing way. She hadn't met a person yet whom he had failed to win over. The man must have been one hell of a diplomat in his day, and an even better sparring partner.

Aric's hands rested on Fynta's hips, guiding her to the side so that he could reach his helmet. Fynta caught Aric's arm as he started past her. Their eyes met, and he offered a small nod before disappearing behind the nondescript visor. She released him and turned to finish her own preparations.

Fynta's armor, now unrecognizable by anything that the Republic had in her file, made her just another mercenary in beskar. There were plenty of those these days, drifting through the system looking for easy targets. Aric had repainted his months ago, covering the Havoc symbol with black and brown in a splotchy job that looked amateurish. It had been a symbolic moment that made Fynta's gut twist. The day that Major Aric Jorgan turned his back on the Republic for good.

Zolah waited on the bridge, mulling over last minute details with Vector. She'd covered herself, revealing nothing but the eerie, red eyes that could have belonged to half a dozen other species. Sensing their presence, the Chiss glanced up. "Looks like everyone is ready. Vector, contact the tower with your suspicions and keep the engines on standby." She tugged the scarf around her face down long enough to give Vector a kiss, then turned towards Fynta and Aric.

"I see there is no making you see reason." Fynta nearly snapped back at the woman, when she realized that Zolah's comment was aimed at Aric. With a sigh, the Chiss pulled her scarf back into place. "Very well."

While Zolah shepherded Fynta and Aric from the bridge, she caught the beginning of Vector's call. He'd dropped the melodic tones of a Joiner for the pomposity of a nobleman. "What's the distraction?" Fynta asked when they were out of hearing range. She checked that her Verpine was loose in the holster, ticking off her options for non-lethal engagements if it came down to it.

Zolah released the clamps to lower the ramp. "A contract has been put on Vector's life and bounty hunters dog his every step."

A smile pulled at Fynta's lips. "Hostage take." If they were made, she'd grab Shillet as a shield and force Zolah and Vector to ferrie her off the station at blaster point. "I like it."

"I don't," Aric argued, voice tight and posture rigid. His faceplate angled towards Fynta, and she could read the Cathar's scowl without seeing it.

"Worst case scenario," Fynta promised, then pulled on her helmet so that she was as inconspicuous as the rest.

When the ramp finished it's decnet, Fynta swaggered off the ship and through the hallway leading to the main deck. They'd opted to ignore the lifts and keep to the stairs to avoid cameras. Elara should be in the cantina in twenty minutes, if all went according to plan. Hopefully, the kids were hungry after a fun-filled day at ActionWorld, and Elara had been instructed to take every delay possible while returning to the Republic. Fynta hoped that the guards were tired too.

Zolah whispered into Fynta's ear through the built in comms. "Vector has been granted clearance for immediate departure should his life be in danger."

"Good work." Fynta entered the cantina and leaned against the bar. She made a show of scanning the menu board while Jorgan looked over the restaurant. "Wander around and let me know if you see anything that could become a problem."

"Now, why didn't I think of that?" Zolah asked in a bewildered tone.

Fynta pictured the wide, red eyes and curled blue lips. She almost laughed, but stopped when Aric touched her arm. "There she is." Aric's voice rattled with suppressed emotion. He leaned forward, fingers twitching where they curled around her forearm. Fynta followed the angle of his visor to where a teenage Nautolan held the hand of a little boy with dark, shaggy hair. Elara came next, steering the children towards a booth in the back. "They've grown so much."

"Steady," Fynta replied, resting her hand on his. If not for the armor, she was sure that he'd have a crushing grip.

Together, Fynta and Aric watched Elara talk to the server droid, motioning for Shillet to do the same. Two men entered the cantina next, a lookalike duo of humans with high and tight haircuts and stiff gaits. "I see the muscle."

Aric didn't respond, but Zolah did. "I've patched into your helmet cam and am running ID checks. One moment…there. They are Republic SpecForce, likely your goons. Standard resumes for, no disciplinary marks...completely ordinary grunts."

The sneer in that Imperial accent tugged at Fynta's sense of competitiveness. She couldn't help but snap back at the famed cipher agent. "Glad to hear that I'm not as out of the game as you feared." Fynta poured as much false cheer into her tone as she dared. This time, Aric's visor turned towards her, a reminder that there were more important things at stake than her pride. She cleared her throat and moved on. "Are they going to be an issue?"

"Only if you get squeamish," Zolah replied. Aric rumbled deep in his throat, causing a passing Rodian to quicken her pace. "Fine, no casualties. You might have to get creative then."

Aric's posture went rigid, his sharp inhalation dragging Fynta's gaze towards their targets. Shillet stood, following Elara's outstretched arm to the bar. The Nautolan ambled over, fingers wrapped around the credits that Elara had given her, and stopped next to Aric. Shillet cast her father a wary glance, then stepped away. She couldn't have recognized his new armor, and understood when to keep her distance.

Fynta watched the guards glance away from their appetizer to do a head count, then return to eating. It had been hot on ActionWorld, no doubt. Those soldiers had chased two excited kids through the amusement park all day in heavy, blaster resistant fabric with senses on high alert. Now, they got to sit and enjoy a decent meal in a climate controlled environment. Fynta hoped it was enough to slow their reflexes.

"Two Nectrose Freezes," Shillet said when the server droid rolled down the bar. She dropped credits onto the counter, staring ahead when Aric slid closer. Fynta saw the girl tense and wondered if she'd bolt before they had the chance to snag her.

"I remember you being more polite than that." Aric's voice was low, barely a murmur. There was a gut wrenching sense of nostalgia in it. Pride, even.

Shillet's head snapped around, staring into the faceplate before remembering that she shouldn't make eye contact. Fynta took that as the signal to move, blocking the girl from view by stopping a drink droid. She heard Aric's smile through his speakers. "Are you ready to go home?" So much relied on the next few seconds, but Fynta was momentarily distracted by the surrealness of the moment. This was Aric's daughter, a girl that he'd raised for the last six years. A complete stranger.

The girl's arms lifted as if to hug Aric, then dropped back to her sides. Shillet had been an abstract concept that Fynta couldn't grasp for months. Now, she realized how connected they were, that this gangly Nautolan teenager needed Aric as much as he needed her. Fynta pushed the feeling of being an outsider down and focused on the task. "Move this along," she whispered when the droid ambled on its way.

Movement slid past Fynta's hip, and she looked back in time to see Elara's boy take Shillet's hand. "Mum says that I should use the loo before we eat."

Aric straightened, turning his back when the guards looked around for Shillet. Fynta returned to the bar and watched the room's reflection through the mirror above it. She saw Elara nod and knew that the woman had made the connection as well. "Go on, kid," Fynta said, urging Shillet to move on before their escort grew suspicious.

"Sure, Tayl," Shillet sighed without looking at Aric. "Let's find the bathroom."

"They're headed towards the freshers," Fynta reported while Aric watched the kid's progress. One of the guards wiped his mouth and stood to follow while the other stayed to shadow Elara. "The babysitter is en route, are you in position?"

A long pause followed, punctuated by a startled squeak. Zolah's smug voice followed. "I've got them. We'll take the maintenance corridor and meet you at the ship."

"I'm going to cause a distraction," Aric replied, pushing away from the bar. When Fynta looked at him, she could hear his smile. "I didn't think you'd leave without her."

"See you at the ship, riduur." Fynta waited for Aric to vanish after the guard. A second later, the one tailing Elara touched his ear, then bolted from his booth. Fynta hoped that Aric didn't enjoy his distraction so much that he couldn't make it back to the Thunderclap. Not when things were going so well.

Gabbing her drink, Fynta started for the booth and slid into the seat across from Elara. The woman tensed, attention jerking up from the tissue she'd been wrestling from her purse. Wet streaks decorated the woman's cheeks and Fynta clicked her tongue. "You didn't really think that I'd leave you here, right?"

Elara glanced around, panic edging into her eyes as they landed on the empty table where her escort had been. Her words fumbled through an accent thick enough that Fynta almost couldn't keep up. "Where are the children? This wasn't part of the plan, how can I return now that they have you on camera? Quickly, leave before they lock down the station."

Fynta leaned her elbows on the table. "This was never going to work." She saw in Elara's eyes what the woman already knew. "Losing Shillet will taint you no matter how elaborate the plan, Tayl going missing too? That's a coincidence no one could overlook. It's only a matter of time before they come after you. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in a Republic brig?"

Elara shook her head. "I'll lead them to your base, you can't take me, I've…" her words trailed off, shoulders straightening with a nod of her head. "I've made peace with my future."

"Well, I haven't." Fynta stood, checking the exit for any signs of Aric's guards. "We'll figure out the tracking chip, but I'm not leaving you here. Cormac needs you...so do I."

Elara chewed her lip, grey eyes locked on Fynta with an uncertainty that she'd never seen in the former medic's expression. It was a stark reminder of the magnitude that now separated them. Years of fighting parallel battles so far from anyone they could trust. After a quick glance around, Elara finally nodded. "Very well."

Fynta turned towards the stairs, only to find them blocked by one of the guards. The one that Aric had gone after was nowhere to be seen, but this one looked pissed. "Aric, are you back at the ship?"

"I'm here, the kids too." Aric paused, and Fynta heard the resignation in his voice. "Are you about to make a scene?"

Fynta's hand drifted towards her blaster. "Maybe."

A heavy sigh answered, but it was Zolah who spoke. "Before you start a firefight, let me try something." Again, the insect-like chittering of fingers blazing across a datapad filled Fynta's helmet. Zolah chuckled. "I hope no one is afraid of the dark."

The lights blinked out before Fynta could respond, plunging the cantina in darkness. A pale, yellow glow bathed the room when the emergency generators kicked on. Fynta grabbed Elara's hand and broke into a run. She hit the trooper with her shoulder, toppling him and landing with a grunt on top of him. Elara darted past, heading for the lifts. When the guard tried to rise, Fynta's gauntleted fist convinced him to stay put.

Fynta scrambled to her feet, catching up in time for a bolt to ping off her armor. She grunted and stumbled forward, slamming into Elara when the woman turned to see what had happened. "Go," Fynta shouted, tucking her Verpine beneath one arm and using the side of her chest plate to steady against the kick with each squeeze of the trigger. Her aim went wide, scattering civilians and leaving harmless scorges along the walls. Fynta preferred not to shoot soldiers who were only following orders, but resolved that it wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

Another round struck Fynta's lower back, causing her prosthetic to stutter mid-step. She must have made a sound, because Aric was in her ear, shouting the order to keep moving. The other guard had recovered, kneeling beside his unconscious partner and snarling through blood streaked lips. The image was a grisly reminder of what it meant to get between a Cathar and his family.

Elara made it into an open lift, waving for Fynta to move faster. She cannoned into the small space and pinned Elara to the wall, using her body as a shield. Two more bolts made it through before the door closed, trapping them inside with a pilot who looked like he had one drink too few to deal with this osik.

Forcing a laugh, Fynta activated her external speakers. "Just like old times."

"I haven't missed this," Elara snipped, patting at her still perfect hair while the pilot pressed himself against the far wall with the expertise of a man who knew how to avoid getting shot once those doors opened. The women ignored him, and Elara even managed a tight smile. "But yes, I have missed you my irresponsible friend."

The doors pinged open to show Aric on the ramp of the Thunderclap, waving his hands. Elara ran first while Fynta covered their retreat in case station security decided to get involved. Aric slammed the palm of his hand into the ramp up button before Fynta had cleared it, gripping her arms to haul her the rest of the way in while Elara signaled the bridge to take off.

Their breathing sounded loud in the sudden quiet of the cargo bay, and Fynta jerked her helmet off to catch her breath. Aric pulled Elara into an uncharacteristic hug before holding her again at arm's length to check for injuries. With a thin smile, the Cathar cleared his throat. "Good to have you back, Dorne."

"Yes, sir," Elara breathed, looking around the familiar bay of the Thunderclap. "It's good to be back."

Fynta opened her mouth to greet her longtime friend, when Elara pulled out of Aric's grasp and slammed into her with enough force to take her back two steps. Her helmet skipped along the floor, stopping at Aric's boots. He smirked, picked it up, then started for the main room.

"Thank you," Elara whispered, arms so tight around Fynta's neck that she'd have been crushed were it not for the beskar. "That was a foolish thing to do, you haven't changed at all."

Fynta laughed, embracing her friend and allowing faded memories of their time together to flow through her newly repaired mind. Tension that she hadn't realized was there snapped, leaving Fynta giddy. Now that Elara was back, they were one step closer to being whole again.

The Thunderclap En route to Odessen

Shillet touched her father's face with her left hand while Tayl clung to her right. The fur on the right side of Aric's head was indented by the straps of his eye patch. The strings settled over one ear and wrapped around it like a crown, but Shillet couldn't see past the way it aged him. Aric Jorgan, the infamously grumpy Cathar soldier, looked ten years older than he had the last time Shillet had seen him.

Letting her fingers trace the spots above his damaged eye, Shillet felt the warm prick of tears. "It doesn't hurt," Aric lied. She knew it had to be, because that's what parents did. They never believed that their children were strong enough for the truth, so they painted over it with pretty colors until the ugliness of their galaxy broke through. He ruffled her head tresses like when she'd been a kid, then pulled her into another ferocious hug.

Shillet let herself relax against her father, inhaling the comfortable scent of armor and blaster oil that always clung to him. Her arm tightened around Aric's waist while she silently wished that Tayl would find some other island of refuge. Just this once. It wasn't until he released her that Shillet realized that Tayl had been the only thing keeping her emotions in check. Without him to be strong for, her walls crumbled.

With a sob, Shillet and crushed Aric closer, fingers hooked in the back of his belt. She couldn't make her arms unlock, not even when she heard Elara's voice. The serene sense of being safe faded to be replaced by crushing grief that she'd almost lost everything. How close she'd come to never feeling her father's arms around her again. Aric stroked Shillet's head tresses and tucked her head beneath his chin. He didn't say anything, and she didn't expect him to. He held her, and that was enough.

"You're her. The one mum always talks about." Tayl's uncharacteristic greeting brought Shillet back to herself. She probably looked like an idiot, some blubbering child clinging to a parent instead of weathering her emotions like a soldier. She pulled away, surprised when Aric wiped at his own eye, then found Tayl holding Elara's hand and staring up at Fynta. They were across the room, but the air felt suddenly heavy knowing that Aric's wife was in the same space.

"Nice to finally meet you, kid." Fynta held out a hand, grinning like she'd just heard a joke and would be thinking about it all day. Shillet bristled and pressed closer to her father's side while Tayl stared up at the woman with awe. "I've heard a lot about you. Your mom and dad are good friends of mine."

Tayl's head tipped as he took Fynta's hand. The boy didn't offer any more words to the woman who'd ruined all of their lives, but Shillet didn't get the impression that he was afraid of her either. Tayl was a quiet boy, calculating like his mother but less prone to share his opinion. He studied every situation and never made a decision until he was sure. It had been a nightmare when he was a toddler, then mildly annoying as a school student.

"Come on, Tayl," Elara crooned. Her smile was radiant, lifting the years off that Aric had gained. "Let's see if the kitchen is stocked, I'm sure you're still hungry."

As she passed, Elara rested a hand on Shillet's shoulder, offering a warm expression that felt more like a plea than reassurance. Shillet crossed her arms and leveled Fynta with an unimpressed glare when the woman started towards them.

Aric wrapped one arm around Shillet's shoulder, holding his other hand out for Fynta to join them. "Come, meet our daughter."

Shillet's lip curled, bitter words slipping through her guard before she could stop them. "She's not my mom." Aric tensed and Fynta stopped short of taking his hand. Shillet almost apologized, then decided that she wasn't going to pretend that everything was okay. Shaking her head, she pointed towards the conference room. "Elara's my mom. You're the one that messed it all up."

"Shillet," Aric snapped, but Fynta held up a hand.

Shillet met the woman's measuring gaze for long seconds, refusing to break contact first. Her chin lifting, Shillet realized that she was nearly as tall as Fynta. The giant that everyone spoke so highly about was short. Sure, the older woman had more muscle, but that would come in time. Standing before her was just a woman, a regular human who wasn't even all that pretty. Her father could have done better.

"She's right," Fynta stated, the unexpected acquiescence stealing heat from Shillet's indignation. "I didn't raise her, Elara did. And she did a damn fine job of it, too."

Fynta's hand bridged the gap between them, hovering a respectful distance away. Shillet eyed the appendage, wondering if this was some sort of trap to get the upper hand in what was sure to become a contest for Aric's attention. She considered walking away, of telling her father that she needed time to process and joining Elara and Tayl where it was more comfortable, but that would disappoint him.

Grudgingly, Shillet accepted Fynta's offer in a loose grip that conveyed everything she couldn't say out loud. The older woman accepted, then smiled. "I've got to make a call. You two have some catching up to do."

When Fynta left, Aric sighed. "You're going to have to be nice to her eventually." With a hand on each shoulder, he directed Shillet towards the door that Elara and Tayl had vanished through.

"Maybe," Shillet admitted. She'd expected Fynta to muscle into their clique, to try and be the mother that everyone thought she needed. It was off putting to be told that she didn't have to put up a false front. Still, the woman couldn't be trusted. Not after everything her family had gone through.

Aric stopped and turned Shillet to meet his gaze. She did so stubbornly, her blatant stare an act of rebellion despite being overjoyed to be with him again. Shillet wouldn't feel guilty, not for speaking the truth that everyone else overlooked. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again in a sigh. A tight lipped smile, tinged with resignation, preplaced whatever her father had planned to say. "I'd almost forgotten how stubborn you are."

Shillet found a laugh somewhere inside. A manic thing that resonated from deep within, bubbling up so violently that it hurt. Aric pulled her into another hug, then kissed her forehead. "Come on. I stocked your favorite MRE."

[cinlat]

Omg look at this beautiful girl! Thank you so much for bringing Shillet to life. I love the varying tones in her skin and that smile. You did such an amazing job!!

She's hard headed and a bit reckless but Jorgan couldn't be prouder of Shillet if she was his daughter by blood.

[cinlat]

Thank you to the amazing @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond for this totally awesome portrait of Jorgan and Shillet on a father/daughter outing! Eventually there will be a fic to go with this but I've been super busy and couldn't wait to share this picture. There is so much that I love about it, from Aric's proud dad smile to Shillet's glowing grin. *flails every time I see it* thank you thank you thank you!!

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Raising teenagers is hard. Especially when they act just like Fynta. No wonder Jorgan is always so cranky.

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Chapters: 30/? Fandom: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic Rating: Mature Relationships: Aric Jorgan/Female Republic Trooper, Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine/Theron Shan, Vector Hyllus/Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine, Lana Beniko/Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Female Smuggler/Koth Vortena, Elara Dorne/Male Republic Trooper, Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Male Sith Warrior, Andronikos Revel/Female Sith Inquisitor, Female Sith Inquisitor/Kaliyo Djannis Series: Part 4 of Meet Me On The Battlefield Word Count: Total (143,001) Chapter (6,436)

Summary: Fynta enjoys the spoils of her brawl with Khomo. Shillet extends an olive branch. Verin, Torian, and Jorgan all question whether Fynta is mentally sound, which leads Jorgan to ask questions that lead to answers he'd rather not know.

Darvannis Clan Cadera Command Tent

"How sure are you about Fynta's loyalties?" Torian asked, pulling Verin's attention from where Keshal scowed at a datapad, to the miniature of his alor on the holo.

"Uh, you want to run that by me again?" Verin didn't like Torian's tone. There was a suspicion in it that hadn't existed earlier.

Torian's helmet shook. "I overheard a conversation between her and the Sith. It sounds like they might be planning a double cross, I need to know where you think Fynta stands on this." Verin didn't need to ask who the chief referred to. Lana Beniko had been at the forefront of negotiations with Shae for the last two months. Unsurprisingly, there had been more than one outburst between them.

Keshal looked up from her datapad, scowled, then shooed Tranx from the tent. Once she was sure the boy had vacated, Keshal joined Verin at the table. Jaw set, he leveled Torian with a stern glare. "Fynta is Mando'ade. Whatever Lana has planned, my sister will make sure the clans are taken care of."

Torian's visor settled on Verin for several heartbeats before he nodded. "I trust your judgment. Keep an eye on things; we'll be done here soon."

The holo ended, and Verin sighed. They were too far into this, too committed, to start distrusting one another now. A hand settled on Verin's arm, and he looked up to find Keshal with a tight smile. "A lot changes in six years, and I've never known the Caderas to be overly paranoid."

Verin gave his wife a droll look, and she laughed. "Jicoln notwithstanding. Torian's mother was good stock."

Turning, Verin wrapped Keshal in his arms, smiling when her extended belly kept them apart. His hands moved around her body to support his growing child without conscious effort. "Fynta couldn't have changed that much," he replied, wiggling her stomach enough to excite the little warrior within. "She won't sell us out."

Keshal growled and slapped Verin's hands away when their baby started to kick. "Now, I need to pee again. Thanks for that."

Verin smiled at his retreating wife, then leaned against the table. It had been a comforting moment of domestic life, but he had to get back to the battle. A thought occurred to him, then. Lana wouldn't take his call, but someone else on base might. Reaching for his comm, Verin input Aric's frequency.

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Chapters: 27/? Fandom: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic Rating: Mature Relationships: Aric Jorgan/Female Republic Trooper, Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine/Theron Shan, Vector Hyllus/Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine, Lana Beniko/Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Female Smuggler/Koth Vortena, Elara Dorne/Male Republic Trooper, Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Male Sith Warrior, Andronikos Revel/Female Sith Inquisitor, Female Sith Inquisitor/Kaliyo Djannis Series: Part 4 of Meet Me On The Battlefield Word Count: Total (126,841) Chapter (4,750)

Summary:  Fynta meets the alliances' newest recruits, Jorgan drops a bomb on her, and Vector returns with news that no one wanted to hear.

Odessen Commander's Quarters Three Days Later

"I'm packing a bag right now," Shillet stated, black eyes narrowed over her shoulder. Aric resisted the urge to smile. He'd missed her fiery temper and the unshakable belief that she could defeat anything if she hit it hard enough.

"No, you're not," Aric replied in his best attempt at a stern tone. He was so tired, but the war didn't stop simply because he needed a break. Neither, it seemed, did Fynta. She ran from dawn until midnight every day, doing her best to make time for him and juggle the responsibility of running the Alliance. Soon, Jorgan would need to pull himself together to help her bear the load.

"I wish you were home," the young Nautolan replied without looking at the holo. "And, that they didn't say such terrible things about you."

Jorgan's chest tightened at the sadness in Shillet's voice. He had to swallow twice before finding the courage to comment. "I know." He wouldn't make excuses, Shillet didn't need them. All Aric could do was agree and hope that she understood one day. That she'd forgive him for turning her life inside out.

Shillet paused with a shirt in her hands, then turned to wave it at Aric. Her smile snapped back into place "Anyway, how do you plan to stop me from leaving, old man?" The Nautolan flashed sharp teeth. "I'm way over here, and you can't touch me."

Aric opened his mouth to threaten the girl with Elara, but felt the air pressure change behind him. Fynta's scent hit him a moment later. "Who's this?"

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