She was already asleep by the time he came in. His injuries were minor, and the staff in the medbay had dismissed him in favor of the far less intact refugees that he and the other Pathfinders had brought back to base. He sloughed off his coat and kicked off his boots, but he didn't quite have it in him to take off the rest of his clothes before he crawled into bed beside her and laid his arm across her waist.
Kleya stirred lightly beneath him. "All done?" she mumbled, taking his hand in hers and wrapping him more tightly around her.
He sighed into the back of her head. "Got most of them out," he whispered back. Most. At what cost? He could still see the face in his mind's eye of the young recruit who'd made the tragic mistake of emerging from cover too soon. He could see the face of the woman who couldn't run fast enough, and her two children, only one of whom his men managed to catch as the mother encouraged her children to abandon her.
He shook the thought away. He was home, now, with the person he loved. He chided himself for lingering on the memory, but then again, it wasn't as if he could help it.
He shifted in the bed, unable to relax. "Couldn't get everyone."
She sighed sleepily and opened her eyes, turning to look at him with worry. "Was never gonna be perfect. We knew that going in."
If I knew that already, why do I feel like I've done something unforgivable? "Still. Doesn't make it right."
She brought her hand up and cupped his face sternly. He was grateful, then, that she knew him well enough not to look at him with pity. "The blood of the people you could not save is not on your hands," she whispered. And then, knowingly, "We've all done terrible things."
His mind raced with all the terrible things he'd done, a fair amount of which he didn't regret. Even if the price of his deeds was a stain on his soul.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered before placing a kiss on her forehead.
"Ridiculous," she scoffed. "You're the best man I know."
"I think that says more about the company you keep than it does me."
She propped herself up on her elbow. "Excuse you, but you and I keep the same company. Or have you forgotten?"
"Nah," he replied with a grin. "We're all pretty terrible here."
Kleya rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder gently. "Go to sleep, you idiot. You'll feel better in the morning."
He raised a brow. "What, no goodnight kiss for your poor, weary soldier?"
She cast him a warning glance. "Only if you stop talking about yourself like you've done something wrong."
But I have, he thought. I've done so much, and there's so much I haven't told you. And although he knew she would beg to differ, he didn't want to argue just now. He certainly didn't want to give her a chance to prove herself right.
"Aye, I can agree to that," he said, knowing that his soft words were enough to soften her heart.
She accepted his acquiescence warily, while he accepted her kiss with perhaps a tad too much enthusiasm for the middle of the night. She glanced at the chrono on the wall when they came up for air. "I have a shift in five hours," she warned him.
"I know." He kissed her again, slow and sweet. "Just wanted to get that proper goodnight."
She took his hand again and squeezed it. "Goodnight, Ruescott."
"Goodnight, Kleya."
"Mhm. Oh, and Rue?"
"Yes, lass?"
"I love you. Thank you, for..." For coming back. He knew what she was trying to say as well as she.
He gave her one last kiss. "Galactic empires couldn't keep me away."
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