#kim writes

"Have you told her anything?"

"It is not my place to say anything of the nature, Alethea."

It soothed her somehow.

An AI — SAM — having the same idea of personal space and understanding as her father felt... like he was still there.

It sounded crazy.

Felt crazy.

"Tell her I'll be okay. Just not hungry yet. "

"That would imply you currently are not. Would you like me to tell her you are not okay?"

"No, I'm... I'm okay. I'll get food on the way back."

"Done, Alethea. Would you like me to contact anyone of your location?"

"In case an accident happens, or something?"

"This part of The Nexus is not yet complete, though it is habitable. When trees are stressed, they drop a branch or two. You are currently sitting under a twenty metre branch of a six hundred year old English Oak. A dropped branch would have a one hundred per cent chance of killing you."

"Uh..." she rolled her eyes in small affection. It was highly unlikely that the tree would be stressed enough. Oaks were hardier than credited. But... well... "I guess it won't hurt."

"Done. Liam Kosta is now in possession of your location, as you are closest to him."

"I'm good friends with everyone...?"

"You do not treat them the way you treat Liam, Ryder. Nor do you call anyone else 'cute', 'adorable', or 'endearing' with the same affection as your father spoke of your family. And cats."

"...Fair enough."

"Would you like me to tell anyone else?"

"I'm okay, thanks."

"But you are sad."

"...Yeah." She stared at the toy in her hand — Soft. Fluffy. Probably three years old pre-cryo, or brand new but showing signs of wear from being held so closely in stasis. Blood droplets had soaked into the fibres. A child's. But not a lot. Maybe from a cut? On paper, or cardboard, maybe? Too young for any SAM but The Asari's to have access to. "... I am sad."

"... Is it about the Asari daughters?"

"Something like that. And Avitus. And your Turian counterpart... that trauma must have been... beginning to transfer only to die before it happens, and then SAM-N being stuck on that last moment, only to repeat the call of a man to his love in his dying moments... and now those moments are with Avitus, who has to now live with the fact that his lover's last memories were asking for him to be safe and named the new Turian Pathfinder..."

"My counterpart did not feel pain as you would, but from my transfer to you being dangerous... it is deeply unpleasant. I will not know how abhorrent the feeling is for Avitus, but from seeing how you and Liam are around each other... and how Alec was to your mother, your brother, and you... I know it will be difficult."

"But... that's why Pathfinders have to stick together." Thea's thumb followed the elegant stitching of the Thessian cresture's eyes. It was almost like a teddy bear, or an Asari's interpretation from the creatures they knew. Holding it alone felt like so much love was ready to ooze from it. It was so... warm. Like whoever gave it to the daughter loved her deeply.

It only made her face tense in an attempt to stop the tears from falling.

"Do you want some company, Alethea?"

"You're here, SAM... that's comforting to me."

"I do not understand, Pathfinder."

"Dad made you. He poured his love for mum and us kids into you. He's part of you... it's like here's here. I know he isn't, but... it's..."

"A pleasant thought."

"Yeah."

"I understand now. Alec felt the same when he looked at photos of you and your brother."

"What did he say when you asked?"

"That it was because he loved you both, and missed your calls when you were on dig sites."

"I got angry with him once. Don't remember why now. Didn't call for a month... time just... happened. Then an accident happened. Hit the news. He wasn't Alliance anymore then..."

"He was scared you were one of the three casualties."

"I never apologised as much as I should have done."

"He knew you were sorry, Alethea. He was just happy you were unharmed."

"I know..." she was quiet. Thea could still feel that hold to her shoulder. She could feel how much he wanted to hold her like he did when Elysium was attacked, but didn't know if he should. If he was allowed. If he was worthy. "I know. Wish I could tell him I loved him before he..."

"He knew, Thea. He always knew." A pause. "I have told Liam that you would appreciate his company."

"Okay."

"Is that an acceptable action to take?"

"It's better than that, SAM."

"My priority is to keep you safe. That includes ensuring your mental wellbeing is as healthy as circumstances allow."

"Hey... SAM?"

"Yes, Pathfinder?"

"Thanks... you're a good... brother."

"... That is impossible. I know you are aware of this."

"Dad created you. Not the same way as he created me and Scott, but... it's good enough for me."

She heard the footsteps. Jogging mingling with running. Slightly strange on this quiet part of The Nexus — similar to a country park. Or as close as one could get on a space station. It was... she supposed spring for the trees, in their abodes that mimicked their natural habitats. Early flowering fruit trees had already bloomed, and now it was the time for late ones who's scent would usually come alive in the late spring sun to awaken the senses.

Thea thought nothing of it at first, until curiosity got the better of her and she shifted her gaze from both plush and tree to look to her her left, in the direction of the tram and lift. Liam was there, half deciding whether to jog casually or sprint like he had a mission that needed urgent attention. It made her smile at first — she knew the feeling, well. Walking felt too slow, and jogging didn't bring much attention, but when she had wanted to be at someone's side as quickly as possible? When she felt like she had to be for her own sanity?

It didn't cut it either.

But then... childhood memories were swift to drown the joy in it. Not because they hurt. Not because they were generically boring.

But because until all those children were accounted for...

Dwelling was something she had become an expert in.

"Something tells me you on the tram when SAM contacted you the second time."

But any grief was largely hidden by her teasing greeting, eyes following the HUSTL member as he finished his approach with a jog that anyone only did when all they wanted to do was be right there with whatever, and whoever, they cared about as quickly as possible.

"'Course I was." His kiss to her temple was one she fought her want to lean into, though she was not entirely victorious with a vaguely returning smile and enough of a lean into it to be the equivalent of a cat's purr. "You took it pretty hard this week. I mean, I think all of us did - or most of us -" Liam sat beside her on the floor, back against the wall, one leg stretched out with the other bent on the knee for his arm to lean on, and he ensured that he was touching her: shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee. Soft. Tender. Light. "But... you hide it better. You always check in with us, so I wanted to check in with you."

"You're sweet, Kosta."

"I mean it, though. Not like those people that say it, then act like they never did when it gets too real for them." Thea's gaze returned to the toy, smile falling and everything feeling too heavy to pretend to be okay. She took his right hand from his knee with her left, thumb running across his knuckles as she brought them to her lips to kiss them in the centre once. She kept hold of his hand, gentle so he could free himself if he wanted to, and rested it comfortably at her middle. "Any luck with finding the owner?"

"No. Too young to have records accessed by anyone except SAM-L's Node, but it'll take a while before we know if the records survived in the first place." Once again, she helds its paw. "I had something similar to this as a kid. It was this lurcher, I think, that was stuffed with those beady-things so it was moveable. It had the sweetest eyes and nose, and a little smile." Her laugh was small, but fond. "Dad gave it to me when I was six, few months away from turning seven. It was his first dangerous mission since me and Scott were born: Alliance got a tip off Mindoir was going to be attacked by a raiding party too big for the colony's garrison, and Dad was the next best available man."

"Did he get there?"

"Not until the raid was already underway. I remember overhearing the call he had with brass when he got back: he was fuming. First and last time I saw him like that." Thea absent-mindedly played with Liam's fingers. Something to do. Something grounding. "He told me the lurcher would keep the monsters away when he couldn't. I thought that was weird until I found out he was going to Mindoir to 'help protect the people there'. I was old enough to understand he meant stopping a bunch of slavers that were cruel and twisted."

"What did you do?" She looked at Liam in silent question. "I mean, now you'd probably just say 'stay safe and good luck', you know? But what did six year old Thea say?"

"Nothing unless you count crying for three hours on him." She laughed softly. "He was leaving the next morning, and I kept him up so late because I just couldn't stop crying. I knew he was safe on The Citadel: he'd come home every day, read us bedtime stories if he was home early, tuck us in... once, I woke up to my bedroom door opening when I was probably five or six, so I pretended to be asleep. He tucked me in with a 'your shoulder's getting cold', gave me this toy that fell off the bed, kissed my forehead with a goodnight, and just before he left I shyly muttered a 'night night i love you'. He stopped in the doorway, looked at ne with a smile, and told me he loved me to, then went off to bed."

"What about Scott?"

"Scott was the lightest sleeper in the house, so he had probably already got that greeting two hours earlier. Dad would have spent half an hour getting my brother to sleep." A sigh left her, quiet and gentle through her nose, as he smile fell. "Dad wasn't always home, but... there's a difference between not around because of work, and not around because he ran away or died. He was old school Alliance — it was harder to find time for family at that point. We hadn't figured it out yet, and Dad, being N7, was on call all the time. Shore leave didn't exist the same way it did for me and Scott. He remembered our hobbies, though. Remembered our interests, personal lives, where we were stationed... he wasn't a stranger. Not that Scott would agree entirely. He blamed Dad a lot."

"For what?"

"Our careers not going as far as they should have done because of his research into AI. I was happy, though. If I was bigger, I wouldn't be at Prothean Digsites, living out one of my dreams."

"You know," Liam turned his hand to link his fingers with hers, his smile clearly heard even as she allowed her head to rest against the wall, "I'm not surprised you wanted to be around dig sites."

Her brows furrowed, though her smile matched his. "What's that mean to mean?"

"You just... like old stuff. And your eyes light up anytime we find old ruins, artefacts, things like that. And" his free hand pointed at her with epiphany "at the museum on Aya? You should have seen how focused you were on reading the exhibitions. And anything Remnant? You're alnost as bad as Peebee."

"Oi." She gave a playful shove with her shoulder. "I'm not that bad."

"True," his words traveled through the tail end of a snicker, "you aren't. But," and then, with a fond touch as he gathered fallen, fine strands of hair to reunite them with her fringe, all tease was gone. Replaced with affectionate sincerty. "Your eyes light up. Even when you're focused, or confused. Like when we were in the derelict ship. It was like you were an early twentieth century Egyptologist, or delving into Prothean Ruins for the first time."

"I guess it's a similar feeling." She leaned in slightly as if to whisper. "Better health and safety though. And less dynamite."

"Less stealing, too, I bet."

"Um... yeah.. no... I don't think so. Probably more. Keeping mind Rameses The Great had Egyptologists excavating sites that were old and ancient to them, of their own civilisation. And they were looting their own sites too: Tutankhamen's death mask wasn't of his face, because he died so suddenly they had to raid other Pharaoh's tombs for sarcophagi and the death mask of Queen Nefertiti, and then quickly alter them to fit him."

"Okay, so... everyone still steals things to make big money, but you were there. You stopped them."

"I had a pretty good track record. Dad kept count."

"Alec last recorded your total as six hundred preventions of stealing, to three failures, in your last year, Pathfinder. Alec hung it on a wall in his office on The Hyperion."

"What? Really?" Liam's surprise almost matched hers. Almost. If it were not for the fact she had seen his office on The Citadel, and his study back home. What surprised her was that he decided that warranted a place. What surprised Liam was that he had anything at all.

"Yes. He did not leave The Milky Way without the achievements of his wife and children."

"He was sentimental like that, believe it or not. Whole lot of love to give, but not sure on how to show it. Gave mixed signals sometimes." Yet again, she looked at the toy. A tawny, wet-sand type of colour to its fur, and purple eyes with an almost canine nose, though shorter. "Not unless he didn't think about it."

"Sounds like experience."

"School trip to Elysium started off great, then The Blitz came. I got injured twice, though the first one was just embarassing. The second was shrapnel from a missile launcher when Phoenix and myself were going through some ruins — Terisakura ruins, but there were similarities to Prothean architecture from them being around at the same time. My body scars and these guys on my face you see every hour of the day" she pointed to her right cheek, running her index down the scars that never healed beyond reddened skin, "is from that. Same time, got shot in the thigh. I should have died. Shepard gave Dad a call, and when we were dropped off at Arcturus, there he was."

Thea laughed then. "He was so... him. All sat on a chair, leaning forward with his hands clasped together, staring at the tiles on the floor, tapping his feet impatiently. He wasn't looking, so I, at twelve years old, called out something like 'daddy, I'm okay', forgetting I had not called him that in five years in my relief, and the speed he shot his head up and just started running to me was crazy. Suddenly, N7 made sense. But that hug? Best one I'd ever had. He held my shoulders, my face, looked me over to make sure i was actually alive, and then the whites of his eyes started to go pink, then he had that manly relief laugh. The one you blokes do when you're hiding a choke when you're emotional, you know?"

"Sure do."

"So then I started to get all watery eyed. Adrenalinne wore off sharply after that. Never told him I knew he was crying. Didn't want him to think he had to hide it away. He only hugged me like that once after. I was on Therum in... eighty-two. There was an accident that hit the news. Three died. About two hundred injured. Names weren't released, and I hadn't called him — too wrapped up in making sure everyone was okay and the shock of it. About eighteen hours later, I'm covered in Prothean dust, exhausted, sleep deprived, hungry, but okay, and there's this massive commotion. I leave the building to investigate, and there's my Dad running over to make sure I was okay. It was his first year after being kicked out The Alliance, and my lack of calling him told him something was wrong, I guess. " she snickered. "Even wore his N7 armour like it would grant him secruity access."

"Guess he wanted to see if his baby girl was still alive." Liam tapped his fingers against her thigh. "Dunno what I'd do in that moment, but... I know I'd keep on worrying if I sat and waited. If I kept waiting, maybe it'd be too late. Or maybe nothing different would happen. But do I take that risk? Let her die on her own if it was bad enough?"

"You'll make yourself cry, Liam, thinking like that."

"I know. But..." he averted his gaze for a moment, mere seconds, before he looked at her again. "Say everything works out — no more Kett, Scourge traversible or gone, secured alliances with The Anagaara, Krogan, Kadara... Us" the way her eyes shifted to the upper left to meet his, with everything twitching into the truest of smile of quiet fondness and hope, was unknown to her. "— and it was our kid on the same site as an accident? I'd want to try to bypass everything I could just to see them."

Thea found herself nodding, not many small nods. No. Three long ones in agreement. "That would not surprise me."

"I can only imagine how your father would've felt. I mean, I've known you for, God, not even a per cent of how long he did, and, now, if something happened to you like that, I'd be bricking it. But a father hoping his kid's unharmed, and fearing they're in a body bag? That must've been hell."

"Guess it's how he felt on Habitat-7 after the Death Cloud pushed us back."

"None of us could see you. Not until SAM managed to ping your location." It felt subconcious, the way his hand held hers tighter. "Cora was the least worried, at least on the outside."

"Asari Huntress training kicked in, probably."

"Honestly? I'm jealous at how your dad kept himself together."

"N7. And First Contact..."

"And then I was just... there. Confused at what happened, trying not to get separated, and then bam! You're signature on our helmets are calling you Pathfinder. That was weird."

"Dad was probably more scared when he found me then, than he ever was in The Alliance." Her shoulders drooped to a sorrowful slouch. "For a Marine, he didn't take loss well. He was so... lost when mum died. He put everything he had left into SAM. He was quieter than usual. Slept at his desk. Felt like he loved SAM more than us sometimes; not true, obviously, but... I don't know. Every memory I see, it's blatantly obvious how unconditionally he loved us. The whole family. It scares me sometimes."

"Scares you?" She hummed at Liam's confusion. "Why? Wouldn't it be... nice? Comforting? Or something?"

"It is." Her eyes tracked the path of a falling petal as it hit the floor, then she lifted her gaze upward toward the sea of white flowers amidst the light-green leaves of the cherry trees. "But trying to find these deepest secrets and answers he wanted me to find... what if the key is when he dies? When... I... die? Those thirty seconds on Habitat-7? I don't think I'd be ready for that."

"You will be."

"But how?" This time, she did not fight her instinctual reaction: the minor contractions of the ducts at her eyes that brought fourth the water that threatened, the subconscious flare of her nose more felt than seen, the twitch at the corners of her mouth. She did not fight. "When I saw him die, I was falling unconscious. It's a blur. I felt everything more than saw it. If the answer is watching him die from his own eyes..." Sorrow cast mist across her vision, and river of hurt down her cheeks. "Watching my hapless struggling... seeing my own fear... what if there was a hug I missed? A fight I don't remember? What if the one time he tells me he loves me since I was a small kid was his last breath?"

She did not fight them.

"I'm not brave enough for that, Liam..."

"Hey. You are, Thea." His right arm swooped around her middle and pulled her into his side. Her head pressed into the front plane of his shoulder; the echoed beat of his heart finding it's way through the Andromeda Initiative uniform and to her ear. His left was swifter, still, to weave around her front, even as she began to curl herself into him for both their sakes, and entirely envelope her. Just as quick as Liam was to hold her so wholly, she twisted herself to be as flush to him as her knees and thighs catching his own to be. The ease her arms around his torso without ever lifting her palms once they had made contact with him, wherever the first touch was. However light or firm. "Hell, you know where I'll be afterwards? No matter what?"

Thea hummed in curiosity, bringing her knees closer to her chest, and held Liam's shirt tightly. Firmly.

"Right outside the door. Being brave doesn't mean not crying, right? I mean, we all cry over what we left behind. But the brave ones do it with others. And if all the things you fear do end up happening? I've got you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And what if it's bad news over this Asari kid?"

"We'll cry together."

"I miss him... my Dad." Thea shifted her head, pressing more of her cheek to Liam's chest, only further encouraged by his lower cheek on the crown of her head. "He should still be here. Being Pathfinder. Making these decisions..."

"You're doing a great job."

"I concure." SAM chimed. "Your father would be proud of you, and commend you on the choices you have made. He was a Soldier for nearly fourty years, Thea. Through you, I have seen that it altered his judgement to something more clinical. More defensively sound."

"I kept Sarissa on, despite everything, because of her history as a leader and tactician. I ensured Avitus was Pathfinder though he didn't want the job..."

"That is correct. But, from what I have seen, you did not force Avitus Rex to become Pathfinder. You spoke truly. You have taught me that the only certain one to let others down, is to disobey their wishes."

"It isn't so simple, SAM..."

"Avitus was already being a Pathfinder. As you told him, he was only doing it without a title. "

"And if he has a mental break of me talking him into it?"

"It is why Pathfinders stick together, Thea."

"You got this, Thea." Liam's lips pressed agaisnt her hairline. "And we've got you: me, SAM, everyone on The Tempest. All of us."

"You're sw—"

"I mean it." His forehead rested against hers, his right hand taking her left, hooking his index gently beneath her fingers to guide them to his lips, where the knuckles were, one by one between sentence sections, gently grazed his lips. "I've got you, even when you think you haven't got yourself."

"I know." She ran her right index finger along her undereyes, slowly wiping away the tears that fell silently, as she straightened. It wasn't fully. Just enough to look at Liam with a smile that was half dopey and fond, and half grateful and glad. Just enough to stroke his cheek with the backs of her fingers, grazing minor scars and scratches he had earned (though that was a strong word) from being, perhaps, a hair too reckless between the 'christening' of his sofa and the football match which saw them become an official couple, as if sketching his features into her memory. Her thrumb grazed the gentle curve of his lower lip, etched into a smile. "I've got your back, too."

The kiss was gentle. Slow. Lingering, but chaste — perpetual in it's existence, even when it's sensation had long dissipated and moved on into Touch's memories, and no less overflowing with love-filled confessions words could never truly convey than it's fervent, playful, provocative, and lustful cousins.

"I've not said it yet, but," her left thumb carressed his cheek bone with slow back and forth motions, and she removed a petal that lounged gracefully on his hair - as if perched on a cloud. "I love you. A lot. In case you didn't know."

It made him chuckle. Liam's hands settled on her waist, between her hoodie like he wanted to hold her without the extra fabric, and the fondness of his gaze, with a smile that matched the depths of the canyon from which the deepest adoration was birthed, and made hers sync with his.

"I love you, too. In case you didn't know."

"Never hurts to be reminded." Thea tilted her head, fingers absentmindedly returning to his chest, where his right hand held them both in place, with a smile she wagered most would call dopey. "Want to know something?" He hummed in curiosity. "You're cute."

The bashfulness of his laugh at the unexpected compliment (or, well, she considered it a compliment) was only partially hidden by his smile — beautiful and meeting his eyes. "Just 'cute'?"

"You're handsome, too, don't get me wrong, but," her laugh was from behind closed lips, "you're also cute."

"Fair enough. Can't argue with that." Liam slipped from beneath her and got to his feet with a stretch upwards. He turned to look at her, expeession unchanged except for the gleam in his eyes. "You know," he held out his right hand, "that mean you're cute, too, right?"

She shrugged as she took up on his offer, palm-to-palm, and spoke as she stood. "That a bad thing?"

"No, no. Not a bad thing." He kept encouraging her closer until they were flush together, her right hand leaving to rest on his chest lightly, feeling the echoes of his heartbeat, and her left taken by his right to settle against his waist. All she could do was be glad. Even when her hand was released in favour of slipping around her waist, and his left hand cradling her cheek. "I like cute."

"That's reassuring."

"You're beautiful, too." His gaze darted across her face. Ever inch of skin brown eyes lingered on turned warm, and she swore thst if her not for the rougue amd her freckles masking her natural redness, she would have looked like she faxe planted beetroot juice andbkeftbit too long before cleaning it off. "Really beautiful."

She thought it marginally unfair. He had natural armour against the show of bloodvessels reacting to the heat. She would never know if he was blushing beneath the melanin, but he would always know, even beneath the freckles, that she was. He was perfectly capable of using it to strike her down if he truly wanted to.

But she didn't care.

Not as much as she would have done were he anyone else.

It was a challenge she'd take on, learning all the small things. She already knew the way he spoke changed, as did his laugh. But one day, she would learn them all.

"So" he continued, "you want to show me around your park?"

"My park?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Sure, you don't own it, but you like nature. You like flowers. It's yours like your routine is."

"Oh, gotcha." She tapped her fingers over his heart. "You sure? I mean, I know it's not you're usual interest, and with your hayfever."

"A little pollen won't stop me from spending time with my favourite person."

"Alright, Romeo," she gave a grin and stood back far enough to alip her arm around his. He only bent his to keep it there. "But, just so you know, when I'm in company I'm dofficult to shut up about the stuff I know."

"I like listening to you talk." He snickered at her surprised. "What? Imagine loving someone but hating their voice and them being happy."

"Bit backwards, I know, just not used to it being said. One way or the other." She began to walk forward, Liam keeping pace. "Did you know that early and ancient humans ate acorns? They would cook out the tannins that made them bitter, and then eat them. Nothing nutritional to them. And, did you know, that they started to come into existence from the Eocene? They're older than grass. And..."

Just as he had said, Liam didn't mind her onslaught of random facts about anything. If Thea was quiet for too long, or if she trailed off, he was keen on enabling her with questions. Proof that he was listening.

It was like going from a beef wellington to beans on toast: from a table centrepiece, to something rationing would allow and was quick and filling.

Lexi had taken no less than sixty samples of the food to run tests to ensure it was edible to anyone but Drack and Jaal.

The food to test for the day, however, was nicer looking on the box (in fairness, everything looked nice on the box — it was marketing one-oh-one. But this was a larger gap than the previous days). Jaal assured her it was a sweet dessert, but as he had not yet found any Milky Way food he liked... she had gone in with the knowledge that the Angaraan ideas of 'sweet' were undoubtedly different to a human's.

It certainly wasn't a steamed pudding, though it was more like if thick ice-cream, mousse, soufflé, and cake batter had somehow had a child with angel delight as a grandparent. But in terms of mell? For those not adverse to even the hint of durian, they wouldn't mind it. She, on the other hand, was only glad she had managed to eat a roll of cheese bread half an hour ago. Otherwise, no one would have enjoyed entering the kitchen after her.

Including herself.

And to the eye?

Well...

Like curdled sauce was being polite.

Thea felt awful about it — it made her back chill. It wasn't her Galaxy or culture, and already she felt like the truth of fact was cruel and toxically acidic.

Humans ate with their eyes and nose as much as they did taste and digestibility.

That was fact. It was ingrained evolutionarily to do so. Everything but Varren and Thresher Maws were the same.

She had also thought that about some human foods — especially curries with coconut; somthing about seeing the flakes wasn't an appealing sight to her for rhe majority of her life — but they tasted perfectly fine, esoecially with naan bread.

Perhaps this dessert was going to be just the same: rotten to the eye, but soul food in taste. Maybe it would taste like custard, or mandarin cheesecake.

If she only found the bravery to bring the spoon to her mouth.

"Hello, you."

"Hey, Liam." Thea lifted her gaze, her smile flooding her features with such speed she could never have stopped it even if she wanted to. A subconscious melt like butter put in the microwave for too long. "You're in a good mood."

"Always am with you." It was so cheesy, enhanced only further with his grin, that her eye roll was only ever fond and the shake of her head dismayed affection. Yet her smile only showed off her dimples. Held back the miserable knowledge of knowingly suffering some sort of odd texture to figure out if it was good or not. "Think it'll pass the bucket test?"

"No." Not that she would eat anything from a bucket next to a barn — anything could have cintaminated it by the time she got there. "Jaal assured me it was dessert. Or dessert adjacent. But I don't know..."

"You're not chickening out now, are you?:

"Brain says no, but the arm's not moving..."

"Wait... What?" There was mischief in his gaze. All too familiar to the surprise of hearing her say they did good when saving Verand and Milky Way species from the Angaaran pirates. Even the smile was the same, except for the tease in his tone. There wasn't any there on that occassion. Unlike now. "Alethea Ryder, Human Pathfinder, defeated by a bite to eat."

"Says you." She matched it. "You're usually finding something to complain about Angaraan food."

"Yeah. But I don't order a box of samples "

"You never know unless you try, and it's not like they've been.... bad.... just... not roast chicken with all the trimmings."

"Roasted vegetables and the skin so golden that you try to do it yourself and it never comes out like mum's?"

"Yes!" She brightened. "My mum made the most amazing roast chicken. And Dad made the best roasted root vegetables. He'd honey roast carrots, parsnips, shallots, sweet peppers, and when they needed turning he'd roast halved cherry tomatoes. You would have loved it."

"How was the roast potato game?"

"We bought those. Less faff, you know?" Thea's gaze returned to the spoon. Her shoulders lowered as she sighed, all the joy fading. "Hope this tastes as good as Dad's roast veggies. Or ice cream. Or cheesecake. Or cake. Or chocolate. Or smoked salmon." She rose a brow at Liam's disappearance into the kitchen. "Where're you goin', Kosta?"

"Getting a spoon, Ryder."

She rose a brow "Why-y?"

He returned, all optimism and moral support. "We'll suffer together."

And with all the vigor of reckless abandon —no sniff, lick, or close-eyed analysis — he got a spoonful and shoved it in his mouth, like it was the only way he'd have the courage to do it. He bore little reaction, except a few held back facial twitches (which she noted as suspicious — deeply so) and a grin so wide it must have been hiding something. Which, from a man who had sent an email about having no secrets with a compendium of a list, so that she knew everything if she wanted to, was a concern.

Not a red flag concern, but there was a gleam in his eye.

Mischievous.

"So?"

"It's more edible than it looks."

He said it casually. Too casually. Too much like he would have shrugged at it like it was nothing. And that didn't match the twitches.

Despite everything telling her not to trust his verdict, she went all in, too. The entire spoonful.

Her reaction was instant: watering eyes, instinct fighting between swallowing and spitting out, her mouth watering a response to the sharp, tart, acidic, sour, vitriolic bitterness that told human tastebuds it was poisonous despite it not actually being so.

The swallow was forced, the chug of her glass of her water swift and unhelpful; a second longer and her gag reflex would have sent her running. She stamped her feet once, a shudder going down ber spine at the unpleasantness of flavour and texture, and all Liam could do was snicker at his success.

" 'More edible than it looks' my backside, Kosta." Thea coughed into her elbow, voice hoarse. The sensation of popping candy exploding down her throat (from the ingrained crystals that reacted in a similar nature, but more like kiwi seeds in size and texture, but extremely sour in flavour like whole raw-dogged lemon with the bitterness of fresh grapefruit juice, and reacted the moment in met saliva) was the only tolerable part of it, and even then it made her more hoarse than she was before. He only laughed harder. "I've been betrayed."

"But now you know: that stuff is bad for human moralw."

"Unless they're sadists and masochists." She shoved the plate to the centre of the table. "At least it's the first Angaraan food I've tasted that I'm not neutral over."

"So," Liam stood beside her, hand on the back of the chair, "a silver lining?"

"Yeah. Why not."

The kiss to her temple was tender. Short, but somehow lingering, and she was just has weak to it as she was to nearly everything he did. "So how long will it take to be forgiven?"

"Hm, see me tonight, and find out for yourself."

"Oh." Liam's laugh and grin were contagious. "Bold words."

She could only offer a smile, flirtatious and coy all at once, whilst the moment her eyes met his from beneath her lashes, the movement slow and purposeful, she hoped to Earth that it came across as seductive as she wanted to show. "I have my moments, Kosta."

They were simply uncommon. Too professional to flirt so openly during missions, too shy off The Tempest and out of armour. Too reliant on armour for confidence and The Tempest for privacy. But she had them. And that was more than she had when she stumbled upon her words in a disastrous attempt (although well owned on her part) when telling him of her interest months ago.

That meant something.

"You up for a game of football when we land on Prodomos?"

"Go on, then. Civvies?"

"Civvies."

"Team size?"

"Seven-a-side. Not enough subs otherwise."

"This is getting serious."

"Sport's always good at bridging gaps. Like music and films."

"Milky Way versus Heleus, or more of a mix?"

"Augie would have more on that."

"In that case," she stood from her sear, "I better start preparing." She spoke into her omni-tool. "Jaal, do you want this dessert?"

"Was it not to your tastes?"

"It's... aquired. Maybe when more come out if cryo, there'll be a Volus on the Nexus that likes it. It would work for their suits' ports."

"Suits.... ports? They wear suits?"

"Yeah. If they didn't they'd... kinda... explode. Their homeworld's gravity, pressure, even the air they breathe, is extremely rare. So this texture works for the straws. But for humans, triggers a poison alert response from the bitterness. Or, well, for me it did."

"Ah. I see. Perhaps Drak would like to share? He seemed interested in trying Angaraan food."

"Krogan usually aren't picky. Worth asking."

"I shall have it later."

"I'll wrap it up and put it in the fridge for you."

"You are kind. Thank you."

"Ryder," Kallo's voice echoed through the comms, "we're entering Eos' atmosphere."

"Thanks for the heads up, Kallo. Alright, crew: get into your civvies. Have the day off. It's been a long few months." She closed the comms, and looked at Liam, demeanour only enjoying the company. "Wait for me in Engineering?"

"Always. Sure you up for a game after that spoonful, though?"

"The game finished before we got back from our rendezvous" she raised her eyebrows twice in comical flirtation that would have been deviant, if only it wasn't for the fact she had no such bone in her body toward anyone but her enemies "last time. I intend to play today."

And it was a good idea to see how Scott was doing, too. He'd never turn down an excuse to partake. He always fancied himself a set piece in biotiball on The Citadel, and any kind of team sport he played in the week.

"Your opposition better watch out."

"That includes you if that's how the straws are drawn."

Liam held his hands up in feigned surrender. "You'll have to work for it. I've been playing since I was a kid."

"We'll see."

And maybe, if he was hungry enough and Drak didn't fancy Angaaran dessert, Scott would have his turn to experience Heleus food.

It would only be fair on his maidan voyage.

Afterall.

But Nia was faster, still. He sprint began with long strides that shortened and gained in speed, and she leapt off the thirty-degree ramp with a short jetack boost. She hovered, dual weskars firing with the recoil largely absorbed by stabilising modifications. The T-visor hid her expression, painting her with the same anonymity as her Mandalorian ancestors, yet the lack of Beskar on Amarantine had led to the rose-gold of Amarantinite being her aegis.

A material with a lifespan, but sharing most of the same traits if it were tempered right.

Most couldn't tell a difference between a Mandalorian and an Amarandalorian — warrior culture, similar weapons and armour, honour and loyalty being key tenants. Most of them were the hybridisation over the course of millenia, eternally shifting like earth beneath rivers and oceans.

Like star and planet systems through mebulaic clouds.

It made Nia's combatant-life easier to be swallowed into the same group. Even battledroids knew to fear Mandalorians.

Her hover came to a gracecul end woth her toes touching the ground. Tempered amarant'gar alloy turned blaster bolts into saddened embers, the metal untarnished,

Torrent surrounded her, laying covering fire.

Nia threw her left arm beneath Rex's underarms and around his torso, lifting him off the ground enough drag him through the overgrowth until the ground offered her him enough lift for her to buckle him to her torso with safety ropes.

"Hawk, we need emergency evac." She punched co-ordinates into her vambrace. "We need a LAaTi and V-Wing escort for Torrent, and a medical evac at these co-ordinates." She sent them. "I'm about to fly there now."

"Co-ordinates revieved and evac on it's way. Five minutes ETA to Torrent and Seven to medical."

"Cheers. Ylandra out."

Smoke from her Jetpack's start forced upthrust onto them, carrying them up through the glass ceiling of the estate's ten acre orangery, and piecrcing the rainstorm.

—

Rex had never been an easy patient. Only being able to work via torchlight beneath an overhang didn't make him easier, or more pliable. Even with the high dose of painkiller in his blood, he still complained, gave out orders, doing everything possible to send her far away to safety and more.

"Nia, I'm fine." He gave her his Captain look — all authority and knitted browed. "Get to evac."

"You're only 'fine' because of the bloody painkillers, Rex." She removed his thigh covering with expertise. "Hold still."

"Come. On. It's a graze." With her med kit in two parts — sterile and used — she initially pulled out her scanner. He would only keep on and on, trying to worm his way out of treatment to get back to the field. "I'm more worried about you."

And then she frowned. Scowled, even.

"I have armour that deflects almost everything, dear, and you" her gaze turned onto him like scorning a misbehaving child, "have a slug in your thigh."

"Huh?"

"So stop moving or I'll have to remove your godforsaken leg!"

The injury wasn't that far. Not yet anyway, though it did need to be removed as soon as possible and the wound packed woth bacta-infused material.

But the anger, born from the combination of stress, anxiety, and pure frustration from his stubborness, forced him to stop. To listen. If she were to remove her helmet, he'd be met with a wildness in her eyes to force it upon him further. To pin him so hard to the floor he'd never stand from it.

And that terrified her.

Rex's eyes were already widely staring at her woth his mouth agape. Purely silent. She could feel it penetrating her visor's peripheral, even as she forced herself to calm.

To steady herself.

"I'm going to have to remove it and pack the injury."

"What?"

"I'm experienced, Rex." She pulled at a packaged needle and a vial. "You'll need to be sedated."

"N-No. Evac's not far. I can last it out. I'm the Captain" Nia pulled off jer helmet with her free hand, the print if her palm made with Rex's blood on the metal, "so I'll... I..." his words trailed off. His gaze softened. His fingers reach oit for her, dancing across her cheek and grazing the lashes beneath the pleading gaze. "You're beautiful."

"Thanks, but—"

"And amazing. Really amazing."

"Pretending I gave you enough painkillers to make you high in the sky in thirty seconds isn't going to work."

"Worth a shot?"

"If this wasn't life and death for you, yeah. Worth a shot." She offered an assuring smile. "I know you hate sedation, but this is for your own comfort, too."

"I know." His palm settled against her cheek, and Rex sat up with a grimace to rest his forehead to hers. "But if something goes wrong, I don't want you to put the blame on yourself. I don't want anyone to blame you."

"Rex..."

"I love you, Nia." Noses brushed, and his fingers broke through the back of her hair as they cradled her. "If they blame you, it'll break you."

"Yep. Probably. But giving you permanent damage because the slug was putting prolonged pressure on your tendon? Because I didn't try? That would break me irreparably. Please? Let me try."

"... Okay. I surrender to you."

Only then did she open the syringe, prick ibto into the vial, take the amount she need, flicked to remove any airbubbles, and inject it into him slowly. Carefully.

"But, can I ask for one thing?"

"You can ask, but I can't promise anything."

He held up his index, a smile on his face. "One kiss."

A smile she matched. "Just one." She hovered over him long enough to press her lips to his, too short to be anything that wasn't chaste and too long to be a peck. But it was enough that, when she was back at ber kit, he was out.

Her hand noved again.

"And that's Snaw. Hreða's most famous cat. She's why we have snow, so sayeth the stories. Hreða wanted the world to see her beauty and experience the awe of such purity, so she created snow as a way for humans to feel that awe with every snowfall, and play jsut as she always."

Even beneath the moon, he could tell. Even now, beneath the childlike awe of the sky, and her poetic retellings of the stars' stories, there was pain. Discomfort. Physical and mental. Outward and inward. Beneath her smile of sentimentality and peace — the one he once loved more entirely than anything else he had ever know — he could see it. Feel it feasting upon her like a starved, cruel monster in all the stories ber ancestors wrote as a means to explain how to behave, how to act, and the unexplainable.

It fed off him, too.

Rex took her hand, tender and encompassing, and brought it to his lips. He kissed her fingertips first, then the lengths of her fingers, her knuckles, and, finally, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

They lingered. A handful of seconds he could wait eternity within, if only nature allowed .

"Rex?" He hummed, lifting his gaze to hers — emeralds glinting with their own stars — and only melted into warm putty when the backs of those same fingers caressed his cheek. "Are... you okay?"

"Mesh'la, I'll be alright." He shared a smile. His freebhand reached out, topsnof his fingers treating a loose strand of auburn hair as if it was delicate.

A treasure precious to him, because it was part of her.

"But what about—"

"Shhh." His hush was tender, still, with his arms pulling her into him. Her head came to rest upon his unarmoured chest — ear to heart — and the rest of her body settled into his as if he was the most comfortable bed she had known in years. "Allow me this moment?"

The most addictive feeling to him in the world wasn't the relief-borne adrenaline rushing through his blood after surviving the impossible — a feeling so swiftly quashed by the osmium-weight of grief that he had to carry above his head the rest of his life — or silken-soft fur and down within his palms.

It was Nia allowing herself to relax so entirely upon him he felt every millimetre of her body's tension subside into nothing. It was the way she curled into him as if she could fall asleep.

It made him feel that he, too, could relax. That every time she told him, in all her various ways, that he was her safe space, she wasn't saying it just to be nice. That every time she said he was as much a person as every one else, and only stained from blood and oil through nurter over nature, that she was right.

Rex ran his gingers through her hair. Her left thumb made back and fourth motions over his heart.

If he thought abouthoe, this time the week before, she was rushed into major surgery after being tortured for sixteen hours, and Death so very nearly took yet one more of Life's children, for even a milisecond, it would fill him with regret deeper than that of a void of a black hole. For so long, he had denied himself of such a chance. Of even a whisper.

And now that he had it, he dreaded the day he would lose it.

Another five minutes to a life capable of living to over a century was a day comsored to a Clone's life expectancy. He would do almost anything to freeze the workd ariubd then to make thise five minutes hiurs of extra time.

After all, to Rex, his favourite smile of hers was the one she could not hide when she looked at him, fond and silently pleading for him to be close to her, a red thread of fate that pulled him bedide her.

It felt like an hour had come and gone since, yet her helmet's HUD had made it, if she had read the time correctly, at ten minutes. Half of that was her fixing the stabiliser over her sock and the way her foot sat in her boot. The other half of her past ten minutes was getting lost whilst going around in circles — and never the same ones.

“Lady Ylandra?”

She hummed, back sharply straightening at the voice of the clone, and it was only when she saw the orange visor that she relaxed. “You are allowed to say my name, Cody. Such a title is only used back home.”

“Sorry, Peonia. I…it feels strange calling you anything else.”

She showed a smile. “My cousin's the same — my aunt and uncle wanted her to be Ko'suum, but whoever wrote out the birth certificate put down my aunt's sleep deprived mispronunciation. She finds it weird when we say the name intended. We find it wrong, too. Gives me the weirds.”

“The weirds.”

“Yes?” A shrug. “You judging?”

“No, no.” The Marshal-Commander, for all of his better-at-lying-than-Rex talents, still wore amusement on his features clear as day that only reinforced that he was, in fact, even slightly judging her. “Just think Rex is gonna love hearing you use it. And I'm gonna enjoy it ending up in his vocabulary.”

Nia rolled her eyes with an affectionate shake of the head.

Brothers. Siblings. Family.

“I've watched you come around this platform at least five times. You okay?”

“Apart from being lost?” At Cody's nod, she moved her head in a so-so manner, side to side slowly with a considering gaze. “Compared to you lot and Ko, I'm perfect.”

“Without comparison?”

“Never gets any easier. Deliberately ignore the corridors with the dead. The thought none of them will ever have a proper burial, burial rites, protected sites to be buried in… most not ever having the chance to be a shiny it… it breaks my heart. My sister says that, in the force, you're all children. You, Rex, Wolffe, Ponds… you're ten year old children. Ace is closer to a teen,then those recruited after Geonosis? She says some are as young as seven. Some of those that died today were… were toddlers, babies, but looked like a child. You're, what, coming up eleven this year, right? When I was your age, my teachers were treating me like a fifteen year old and I'd come home to eat ice cream and jelly, or griffon shaped pasta, and I'd try to cheat a game of top trumps against my brother.”

“You… didn't have the childhood of a Mandalorian or a clone.”

“Maybe not, but even Mandalorian children are allowed to be children in their own ways. Your people never got a chance to get fed with 'here comes the fighter ship neeyowe' as a spoon or fork comes for you. You never get to have some cereal for breakfast and then bring it up on your handlers shirt.”

“...It sounds like experience?”

“Only memory of my mother I have is, unfortunately, connected to a dark pink polo with all the stains; my father tried to give it to me a month or two before the war started. Anyway,” Nia released a long sigh, “the point I'm trying to make is that I'm upset — deeply — despite knowing less than probably a hundredth thousandth of the men here, but my largest concern is with Rex.”

“Rex?”

Cody, at least, pretended to be surprised if his tone was anything to go by. She dared not look at him.

“Yes. I've not seen hide nor hair of him since he stepped off The Resolute, and I've not heard from him since he made contact to say the Seppies were retreating.”

“I think he jus’ … wants to be alone.”

“Doesn't mean he needs to be… it's a dangerous time to be alone in your thoughts.”

Cody leaned against a makeshift barricade. “Think he'll do something?”

“What?” Her eyes went wide for a second before deeply frowning, insulted that Cody thought she believed Rex would do something permanent like jump into only depths. “Don't be bloody ridiculous, of course not.” She huffed with a short, sharp puff of air from her nose. “I know him well enough to know he'll be blaming himself more than he should be. And I know grief like it's a friend - at some point, being alone becomes self punishment. At some point, 'I want to be alone' means 'I want company but I want silence, and I don't know how to ask for help'. Mostly it means 'people will consider me weak'. “

“Y'know,” Cody perched beside her, half on the corner “I'm sure he's fine. He's a big boy.”

“Men can not be fine, too. You're not fine. You're sluggish. Put on.”

“... I don't think he needs you to hold his hand.”

“I also don't have to be held in any capacity when I'm grieving, but I find it's a helpful addition. I don't need to have help to carry things around, but maby hands make light work.” She pinched her nose for a second. “Look, Cody, I know you're trying to protect his peace, but you know the culture your generation grew up in. Maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want loneliness. Just quiet. Maybe he doesn't know what he wants.”

“You're stubborn, did you know?”

“I'm not stubborn - not really - just want to… periodically check in with Rex. Hreða knows he'd never ask for help.”

And Cody, as if satisfied she had passed some kind of test, finally relented. “If he's going to open up to anyone, it's gonna be you. I'll show you the way to his contemplation spot.”

“Contemplation spot?” She stood gingerly, yet sure from confidence in knowing how much weight her foot could bare for now, and followed Rex's ambling older sibling. “I guess for it to be his, he's been there a lot?”

“A story you'd be better asking him about.”

“Noted.”

-

It was the sunset, casting a rose-gold glow upon the Captain of the Five-Oh-First's Torrent Company, that made her forget, for a few moments, that there had been an invasion. That there was a war. It made her forget the body bags and droid parts scattered across the base. For those moments, it was just… him, resting his elbows on the balcony, forearms folded and fingers fiddling something he clearly treasured with his thumbs running across it.

Kamino's sun, for as rarely as it turned up, painted him in golden rays, edged with the rosey tone of the clouds, and the blue stripes felt discolored to a purple tone. His skin didn't force the light to bounce back like hers (or any currently alive Ylandra) and reflect like a white shirt - it simply took on the same hue, the warmth enhancing the reddish pigment to his skin with a tender caress.

In those moments she forgot the war was reality; she could only think of him as a dashing rogue unwittingly stealing her heart. Not that he wasn't already doing so even with the war — in truth, he had already stolen it — but it felt wrong to think him as attractive when reality returned to focus once she noticed the blood stains on his chestplate, and the oil splattered across the helmet clipped his his hip.

“Gonna come over or stare?”

Despite his words, his tone carried through his smile, as tight as it was, to be good-natured. Possibly even thankful.

Not that it stopped her face from warming.

“Sorry. I… I don't want to intrude or anything, just…”

“Hey,” he looked at her then, eyes setting on hers like she was the one reprieve he had seen for months. A gentle caress. “You're not intruding.” The gesture of his head, confident in movement, encouraged her towards him.

She remained still, just out of reach of the doorway to stop it from registering her presence yet distant enough to not pry int his space. “Are you sure?”

“If I didn't want you here, you'd know.”

His gaze did not leave her. His head remained facing her, his body still toward the ocean, but he had twisted his chest enough to open his posture. It revealed blaster scorching amd residue from his deecees, but nothing that signified injury.

“I wasn't injured, Peonia.” His words stole her gaze, roving over him, to his face once more. The expression he wore, with dark eyes glinting gold and copper in the sunlight, was tender. It pulled her in like bees to nectar.

If she were less of a person — if she did not know or was too naïve — she would have thought his smile spoke of some deeper affection towards her than she thought proper. A figment of her imagination. The truth was, she didn't know. She wasn't looked at with such kindness outside of family. She was used to being forgotten about until someone wanted something of her. It would be foolish to think she knew, or even think he knew, the deeper side of such a gaze.

It was kind. It was welcoming. Inviting. Genuine. And that was all that mattered.

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Ah, don't be.” Once she was stood beside him, leaning on the same balcony with her hands gripping it firmly, he resettled into his original position. “You know what I'm like.”

“Unfortunately, your self-preservation instincts blow away like delicate petals in the wind after a battle, naturally. Something common between military types and Jedi.”

“Ya think?”

“Observed.”

“Your er… your sister seems to be good at that.”

“She's an outlier.” Nia allowed herself, for the first time that meeting, to chuckle- her mouth closed as always with such a sound. “There was this time probably… three or four years ago, now. She was helping the Amarantian Systems Navy with some slavers. She survived, unscathed, but her ship was in tatters. She saw Skywalker - a padawan compared to her Jedi-Knight self - do some trick and he dared her to do it better.”

“I guess he got under her skin?”

“No. Not really. But she was in a situation the trick was useful in. She says she did it better - something about being able to take out more from it.”

“Do you believe her?”

“I didn't see Skywalker's ship when he landed. Would be unfair to take her word for it, don't you think?”

“Point taken.” Rex, for what it was worth, tried to both hide away and remain as open as he usually was. His shoulders were wide, leaving his chest open on stance, but his elbows down to his wrist became closer together. He was half leaning on the balcony like it was all that stood between him. Yet he watched the ocean's waves, calm now compared to hours before, with barely knitted brows. “Didn't think I'd make it this far in the war.”

“I did.”

He didn't look at her, despite the small, wry chuckle that was half spat out like it was a true surprise to hear. “I forget you're optimisitc.”

She would have huffed in offense if she wanted to start something. She chose to quieten that urge. “Don't get me wrong, when we first met, I thought that being on your own in the hangar to install a disc to kick he Seppies out the system was… nothing short of bloody stupid, but when I got there you were doing better than most.”

“Should I… take it as a compliment?”

“Have I ever insulted you?”

It only got another smile.

She wanted something more.

“Next time there's shore leave,” she begun, allowing herself to sidle closer to him - the outside of her right hand so close to his left, she could feel the radiating heat, “I'm going to try to steal you away.”

His voice lowered, just slightly, and when she cast a glance at him, he looked at her with a raised brow and a challenging smile. One that, even now, she could not help but respond to with blissful fondness. “Is that so?”

“Hm-hm.” She affirmed.

He twisted his upper body enough to rest more on his right forearm. “And what will you do if you manage?”

“I, good Sir Rex, will take you to Soirham's most southerly beaches, where the water's clear and blue from sand instead of clay and muddy substrates. We'll have a beach hut, go swimming in the shallows, explore the food, spy the wildlife...”

“Maybe take a Hreða Tooka or two with us.” At her confusion, he cleared his throat. “I mean… maybe they'd like sand. And fresh fish.” He brought a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“There's a much deeper reason at play here…” Nia nudged him, her shoulder against the bottom of his pauldron, in gentle play. “Pray tell?”

He stuttered for a moment, multiple attempts to explain through fumbled words, before he released a long sigh. “Remember the fortnight me and the domino twins had to protect you?”

“Yes. I do.”

“You always spoke about your countryside with… hope. A kind of joy us Clones weren't allowed to have.”

Her cheeks warmed. “I… thought I was boring you.”

"That why you stopped?”

“Yes? I mean,” she tilted her head, “might as well save my vocal chords for something that gets listened to.”

“I was listening…” He was quiet, like the words were only for her to hear above the waves against the platform's support. “Jus’... didn't know how to respond.”

“I get that. Sometimes I don't know how to join conversations — never got the chance to learn before the kids at school made sure to other me.”

“Must've been tough.”

“Well,” silver eyes cast their gaze across the water, “I wasn't threatened with decommission for being different, so I guess it was easy compared to what you guys got. Left its marks and scars though.”

For a moment, she let the silence that followed grow — not that it was something she didn't want to talk about, but it was something she was hardly going to force a conversation out of if she had touched on as much as she needed to — yet when she looked at Rex again, seeking out if she had overstayed her welcome, his eyes remained on her as if he still couldn't accept that anyone could treat another so dreadfully when they had all the time in the world to be children.

“Anyway, why the cats specifically?”

The sun cast golds and ambers into his irises of deep brown, unwavering against its lowering rays whilst hers squinted to a near close, only seeing him through her lashes. She could still make out his hand rubbing the top of his head.

“You like them?”

“I like you, too, you know.”

His bashfulness increased, the heat she could feel coming off from him, standing shoulder to shoulder now, rose, and he struggled to find a spot for his hand.

“You… You do?”

“Yes.” She couldn't help her amusement, born from bewilderment. “Why wouldn't I?”

And just like that, Rex lost all the straightness in his back and closed on himself again. “I'm a clone. We weren't… taught how to be people. How to live. Just how to fight. How to survive… How to die… You're immortal compared to me. I don't know how it'd be—”

Her hand enclosed his, her fingers weaving around the sides of his hands, and she gently squeezed. “You're also immortal to many mortal creatures such as cats and dogs, but mortality and immortality do not matter - I don't know how to live for myself, being born to serve my people, billions I will never meet. We are both duty bound to those we do not know, but it does not mean I cannot enjoy your company, Rex: we all die one day, and I'd rather die knowing I spent most of my free time in this dark galaxy with you.”

The Captain, usually so confident and sure, opened and closed his mouth more than once before rubbing the back of his head and neck. "You sure 'bout that idea, mesh'la?"

"Do you think yourself unworthy of my presence?"

"No." His response was swift - too swift. "Yes. No? Yes?"

"Whatever for?"

He looked at her, unimpressed and as if to say really?. "I'm not a person to most of the galaxy."

"Nor are Jedi to most. You don't see me shoving my sister under a speeder, do you?"

"No..."

"Do you think I'd do that to you?"

"What? No. Course not."

"Think Aurora undeserving of my sisterly affection?" He shook his head. "So why you, again?"

"We're just... killing machines."

"No. You aren't." Nia took Rex's hands in hers. Hands that held weapons and fingers that pulled triggers, but deep within the fibres was the blood of his brothers. Brothers he comforted as they died. Brothers he grieved with. Brothers he loved. Brothers he hated. Brothers he knew all his life. Brothers he never met. The brothers he protected.

"Not to me."

And the ones he had no chance to try to protect, because they protected him first.

She gestured him close, arms open in offerance, and the moment he stepped into her space, as uncertain as he was at the newness, she enveloped him with her arms. As much of him as she could. As tightly as she could. Desperate, beyond all else — before all else — to flood him with the feelings her words would never be able to entirely convey.

"You are a person. You are all a people — a culture, an ethnicity — and you're all human. Even Mandalorians are as flawed as the next human race... species... whatever you want to call them." She felt his body shift in a short chuckle, even as he gradually released tension and allowed more of the ground to carry him than his feet. "And all species in this galaxy are as imperfect as one another. But the only things that are nothing but killers are the droids made specifically to be just that. You may have been trained to do it, but you can choose to stop. You have emotions that droids have an understanding of through cybernetic roadmaps in the programming, but ask them to paint or write? There will not, and never will be, that connection. A connection you would have."

"Mesh'la..."

Nia's face warmed. Beautiful. One of the few Mando'a words she could remember. Probably one of the few Rex and his brothers were taught. It was a word that was tender as its meaning. A feeling Rex's whisper above her head matched. If he knew, he made no show of it. And if he didn't know, he did not tense from realising.

He only kept her closer.

As close as plastoid against Amarantinite Beskar'gaam would ever allow.

"I just want you to know that I'm here for you, whenever you need me, whatever you need me for, and I like you. Just as much as I like fluff-ball gremlins like tookas." She leaned back just enough to press her forehead against his, arms trailing up to his elbows before she settled her left palm against the captain's cheek. He did not react with surprise or fear, yet brown eyes looked at her dully in grief. And when he took her wrist, it was not to move it away. "I promise."

But to keep her touch there.

"You are... too kind to someone who'll be replaced by twenty more when he dies."

"None of those twenty will be you, Rex. Not one."

"It's almost easy to believe when you say it." The Captain of Torrent Company lowered her hand, slow, steady, not knowing what he was going to do, but she knew he had little want to let go. His fingers didn't budge from their place, only lightly tightening. "To believe that I'm more than a soldier... it's..."

"Scary?"

"Yeah. I don't know how natborns do it, Peonia..."

"I've not figured out how to be a person. Kinda wish I didn't make myself non-working in my family's leadership work... I wouldn't have to worry about not fitting in anywhere. Everything would be scheduled for me to do, what neetings to go to, when I need to use my soft power to get something done."

"You work well in military life. I can see why your people want you to lead them one day..."

"That's just because I'm confident around Torrent Company... think I'd be a decent hermit, though. Feel like one enough of the time "

"You like our company too much."

"Well, you can come along if you get decommed. The hermit duo, you know?" Nia laughed a short breath "But, well, thank you. For being in my life. You might jsut see a soldier in yourself, but I see a man with a kind heart. A loving heart. And you need to have those hours in a day where you can be... just that." She tapped his chest with her free hand. "Well, I guess I should let you get back to your quiet."

And yet, he did not let go.

"Wait, Peonia..."

"Yeah?"

"I, uh..." he cleared his throat. "I like... love... you being around."

"Oh aye?"

"Yeah. Gives perspective."

"Nah. Just didn't want you to be alone to be sad. It's better grieving with others grieving, too."

"Can I... find you on The Resolute later?"

"Of course. No need to ask."

"Your cousin didn't raise a disrepectful soldier. I'll always ask."

"And I'll always say that, for you? You never need to knock." Nia's eyes fell to his chest plate, covered in scrstches old and new, the scent of singed plastoid from the Seppie blasters (and, maybe, as much as it hurt, accidental friendly fire in allied hallways) was made subtle by the salty air of the Kaminoan ocean. He gaze moved to her hand, settled with her fingers resting in the gap between his pauldron and the flexible shoulder-tops of his armour. "I enjoy you being around me, too."

"Me, too." And then "I-I mean, I, um—"

"Don't hurt yourself, Rex, I know what you mean." Her gaze flickered upward towards his thriugh her lashes, the sun fanning between the fine hairs that kept the worst of dust and debris from mammalian eyes, and she gave a smile. Tender and tranquil. Affectionate. "It makes me happy to know it's mutual. But now I should find Kix. Help woth the dead and injured."

"I'll come with." Nia tilted her head at Rex, who akready reached for the helmet magnetised to his hip. "Never know what clankers are there. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll be fine, Cap. Take this time to yourself, okay? Shed some tears. Scream out at the sea. Wonder how far the siund travelled but never ask. Listen to the echo and it's fading journey. " She allowed her free hand to hold his cheek. To trace the line of tears that had dried upon his skin. To offer what little solace she could. "I'll be okay. Promise."

"Alright." Only then, satisfied with her wishes, did he lower her hand to hisbside and loosen his hold. "Wait for me before we board?"

She allowed herself a laugh. "Wouldn't dream of getting on before you."

"Then I'll see you on the other side, Lieutenant."

She gave a salute, playful but sincere. "Yessir."

Her first steps were backwards, keeping her eyes on him, and she only turned when their fingers had slipped apart from distance, their indexesbat full stretch for the touch to last even a millionth of a second longer.

A touch far warmer in comfort and setenity than the gooden hour over the mass grave thst surrounded them.

—

"You should tell her."

Rex didn't look over his shoulder. He didn't need to. The dusty, vintage pink of Ace's armour entered his peripheral, with the ALPHA leaning upon the same balcony. "That's vague."

"Jus' tell her you like her, old bean."

"Bean?"

"Sorry. Slip of the tongue." Ae's usually neat, half-up low ponytail had seen hundreds of better, bloodyless days. Side pieces had escaped, and were kept in place by hair grip that had strands of tawny blonde stuck in the teeth in the rush. Aurora's. "Admiral Seen'ahna and General Ylandra call each other thst to loosen a tight mood. Anyway, you should let Peony know you like her."

"She knows I like her "

"Not like her, Rex. But like-like her." The hundred-and-fourth oldest of his millions of brothers shimmied closer. "Tell her how your hesrt beats for her, aching when she leaves like the moon aches for the stars to join her. Or how summer flowers yearn for the spring's warmth to help them breathe again. Ylandra like flower talk. Bit of floriography."

Rex slumped forward, the roll of his eyes masking the sleight sigh. "Not all of us can afford to fratanise, Ace."

"Says the man who's been staring at Peonia every day for over a year, looking like a lovelorn puppy who's tail wags whenever she cokes into the room."

"I'm not that bad."

"I'll keep finding the most embarrassing likenesses to you until you grow a pair."

"Now you're being ridiculous." Rex looked at his hands. "She deserves better."

"We all think those we love deserve better than us, old boy." Ace's hand gradped Rex's shoulder. "We want what we think is best for them, and it's never ourselves. I'm not telling you to take her to an abandoned museum pin her to the wall, and kiss her senseless then make sweet love to her whilst calling her a masterpiecem" Rex choked on his own saliva at the bluntness. The slapping to his back barely helped. "I just want you to have the weight of keeping it secret from her off your shoulder but putting it out there to her."

"I'm not..." Rex's sigh bordered on irritated, and his frown was so deep it hurt. "I'm not good for her, Ace. She has a future — decades worth — back home. Her people want her to lead them further into progressive prosperity. It's a future I can't be part of."

"Says who?"

"What?"

"Says who?" It felt like Ace wasn't taking it as seriously as he should have been, casually looking at the ocean with a held back smile on his face. "Society? Because theobly one you shoukd be concerned with is Amarantine's, and in Soirham Clones are given the same rights as everyone else. Thwy can get byried there, get married, have kids, own a house, get a job, get an edication... be people. Kamino?" He scoffed. "Only in it for the paycheck. Other clones? You're living in blissful ignorance if you honestly believe thousands are still single or inactive."

"Ori'vod..."

"Look, I'm just saying, you clearly like her. Even Skywalker knows, so you aren't hiding it well. There's no harm in telling her you love her."

"But ... she's a friend... I don't want to ruin that."

Ch 2. The Dig Site

"The demotion was because of a 'lack of challenge to your superior when facing orders that may be construed as 'genocidal, ethnic cleansing, a war crine, and any general breaking of the Geneva Convention'." He shrugged vaguely, tone... not easy, that wasn't the right word, but not like he was taking it seriously enough. "...I was following orders." Like he never took self responsibility for actions that he felt forced to do. "That's what Nazis said in ninteen-fourty-seven when asked about the Holocaust." "What was I supposed to do? Let them run off? Have more opportunities to attack human colonies?" James threw out an arm, eyes narrowing. "I watched you get trapped at the evac point on Mindoir— you were covered in blood, and I didn't know who's it was. For all I knew, it was yours; you never talked about it, always brushed it aside. When I saw you had enlisted to become an aliance Marine, I was terrified. You screamed at spiders, cried after standing on a bug, and there you were about to become a trained killer." He almost laugh wry and curt. "You proved me wrong: you're still a water soaked dishsponge, but you're a damn good scaurer when you need to be jagged." He stood forward. "When the bastards attacked Elysium, I sat and watched the news on Mars. I sat for an hour in case your name was one of the dead. Three injured, one in critical condition. Twelve hours later, I'm told it's you. You need surgery. You'll either live or die. They showed footage of you restarting the shield. Of you going down." She remained tall. Straight. Unflinching except for the twitch of her eye when he got too close too fast. "So yes, I followed orders a little too well. Brass wanted retribution. I wanted revenge. Batarians slaugntered the retreating, the surrenderring, civilians and children. They killed parts of you twice. What was I supposed to do?" "Not become them." Her tone was steady, but matc her own narrowed eyes beneath the surface. "You broke the oath, James, and you had the bloody audacity to claim it was in my honour. Never do that again."

Ch3. Beacons and Visions

Phoenix remembered the first time she cruised through a Nebula. It was the Local Fluff, as her father called it, around the Solar System, encompassing one-hundred-and-ninety-one stars, with at least twenty eight of then planet-filled systems. The cloud itself was thirty-light years across. Her paternal grandfather went to one of the systems to explore in the late fifties, just before First Contact: the system was closest to the star Altair, and her grandfather had named the system Aamaal, keeping with the Arabic theme of Altair. She remembered little, only being three,but she did remember him dropping out of FTL to show her the cloud of gas. She remembered him talking to her about it and how he'd name the brightest star in the nebula after her. How he'd name a whole system in human owned space after her. He didn't ever get the chance to submit them. The Turians took that chance. He would have loved the magentas, violets, lilacs, and lavenders that surrounded the ancient space station. He would have written a poem about it, she wagered. But to her, as immensely beautiful as it was, it only made her sad that he could not see it. That he gouldm't see his sons and grandchildren seeingvwhat he could have only dreamt of. That he did not get to explore the galaxy at large, leading The Alliance's Fleets, or see his wife's FTL inventions become stealth technology. A shard of ice threatening the warmth of comfort.

Ch4. The Galactic Seat

Turret fire came from both sides. Each pound into her piece of cover rattled the thick half-wall. Phoenix held a button on the underside of her shield. "Kinetic Barrier Boosting by two hundred per cent." It was almost strange to hear Amaya's voice. But it was all part of her Pandora Defence Matrix, and whilst the shields had been updated five times over, the original version she had on her hip still had some life left. "Thirty per cent completed. Estimated time left: nine seconds." "Ma'am," Ashley hunkered down to the side. "What's the plan?" "I'm going to sprint to the opposite cover. The turrets will focus on me, giving Alenko and vakarian time to bring down their shields." "This is the LC to SC, what's your situation?" Phoenix could hear the vehicle's engine. "Currently planning to take out a couple of turrets." She gave signs to Kaidan first, then did her best to translate them into Turian versions for Garrus. "We'll be done before you come in." "Well, if you get to Fist first, tell him he has a hungry Krogan wanting to hunt him down." "Will do " "Shield boost completed. Shield strength now at Thirteen-Fifty from Four-Fifty." The comma chatter quietened, and Phoenix was quick to sprint. Her shields absorbed the damage - two hundred strength lost — and she heard the groaning of the Turrets' systems. Their quiet as she remained above cover gave her opportunity. With the overload settinf actjvated, giving a temporary, yet severe, reduction in her rifle's overheat rate, Phoenix pelted the turret in front of her until it shattered. She moved to the next, the Crossfire growing warm in her hand, and she was only glad it, too, suffered the sane fate as it's friend before the barrel could find her. Fist, for all of his appearences, could not back away from the bullet she sent to his shield device, nor from her fingers taking hold of his armour's collar. The lack of anyone but mercs and himself added an internal clock of best success liklihoods. People like Fist only responded to force and threats. "Where's the Quarian?"

Ch6. Minor Victories

"Commander, for what it's worth," Phoenix cast her gaze toward Kaidan, who looked at her not like his CO, but a friend. A look she desperately appreciated. "I wish more humans were like you." "I don't know, Alenko. I think my half forgotten cups of tea would like to object. But... thanks." She allowed herself to smile. Small. Tight. But genuine. "I hope each of them has an Alenko at their side to keep them grounded. Pretty sure I'd be flailing wildly right now without you around." "I, uh..." he cleared his throat. Her smile widened at the light dusting of rouge that graced his cheek."I-I think you give yourself too little credit. I'm sure you'd be fine." "Kaidan," she grinned now, "take the compliment. I don't dish the sappy ones out to just anyone." "So it isn't just any crew members that get them, huh?" "Just the people I hold close in my heart, Lieutenant." "Should I take it as a promotion, or be worried I'll be on your emergency contacts? Wait, hold on, I'm already part of the shore party one." "You can always be on my personal EC list, too, if you feel left out?" She offered a light shrug. "I stay asleep all shore leave these days, but you never know when a giant spider's gonna crawl out the vents and try to kill me when I'm only armed with a pancake pan." "I'm alright, Ma'am." Her laugh was quiet. "Fair enough." Being fiund in her pjays at three in the morning, armed with some kind of cooking pan aimed at a spider half the size of her knee, would have been especially embarrassing. No one needed to see that.

Ch6. Family