She woke up fully before her eyes opened.

Instead of following routine - roll out of bed, get a pot of caf going, wake up Jerhal - Tynea lay perfectly still, eyes closed, listening to the muffled sounds outside.  The hotel room was decadent, but Vyen'a had insisted on paying for it, pressing the cred chit into her hand with the wide, teasing grin Tynea'd come to appreciate.

She stretched her toes, her fingers, feeling the soft fabric of the blanket brush their tips.  The heavy weight of Jerhal sleeping soundly next to her radiated warmth, and for a moment, Tynea thought about curling back up and sleeping some more.  Any other morning, she would have.  But today....

Today was different.

She mentally pictured the room around her.  Plush bed, picture window overlooking Senate Plaza, its heavy drapes pulled, and the carefully wrought, fragile-looking table pushed against the wall.  On the table, the piece of flimsi.  The one with the signature that made it all true.

The look on the face of the Senator at the hearing the afternoon before had sunk her heart into her shoes.  He had made up his mind before even seeing her; Tynea could tell that just by the look in his eyes.  But something made him change his thoughts.  Whether it was Jerhal's complete removal of her as a partner, instead breaking down her assets on a military basis, or Master Ihlrath's reminder that the Republic had the responsibility to provide all sentient beings sanctuary, or Master Moirianna's recollection of the fear she'd sensed.  

It didn't matter what it was.  Something changed his mind.  And in the end, it came down to a handshake, a signature on a piece of flimsi, and a few appointments in the future.

She was safe.  

They weren't sending her back.  Or to Belsavis.  Or anywhere but wherever she wanted to go.  She could focus on getting better, without the fear of SIS snatching her from in front of whatever little cafe she was sitting at, without the fear of no one coming to help should a Sith or an Agent working for the Empire decide to try and make trouble.

She would take the oath.  She would become a citizen of the Republic.

And nothing would stand in her way again.

A small smile crept across her face, and she opened her eyes.

WARNING: AUDIO ONLY! NO TEXT READOUT!

CONTINUE? Y/N

*The low, familiar hum of machinery echoes through the recording, followed by the settling of leatheris against metal and the gentle swoosh of fabric.  And then, a soft, happy laugh.*

I've got my ship again.  

I...

*Another laugh, the sound of disbelieving joy.*

Everything is all of a sudden working out.

I have a new friend.  Master Moirianna and I have been chatting a bit since she walked me home from the cantina.  She's lovely and it's just so nice to have someone to talk to who doesn't expect me to do anything or fall apart at any given time.  Jerhal doesn't, of course, and Vyen'a doesn't either, but everyone else who knows me seems to treat me like I'm made of eggshell.

And even if I didn't have a new friend, it wouldn't matter.  I have my ship.  My ship!  Vyen'a got in touch with Ludwik - since she's engaged to Lieutenant Teral, and Ludwik's his cousin, it makes sense.  But she got in touch with him.  And found out where my ship was.  He hadn't sold it, even though I told him to.  I owe him huge for that.

Vyen'a had it stripped down to the studs and rebuilt.  She put in an art studio in a third of the cargo hold.  She just... she made it perfect for me, but left a lot of what made the ship mine.  The scarring on the left side of the hull from the run-in with that really angry Mando a few years back.  The dent on the left engine casing from the Jawa drinking party.

*A pause, then another soft laugh.*

Even the paint job she did was perfect.  Just touch ups, for the most part.  But on the tail end... it's magnificent.  I would love to know how she got that drawing; it was based on one of my sketches.  A field of blue, with a red and gold and yellow bird flying up from a floor the color of ashes.  And in the same red and gold beneath, the name.

"Phoenix Rising."

And Jerhal...

*Another pause, this one with an absolutely audible smile.*

He knew.  He knew and he didn't tell me.  Vyen'a gave him the access codes and they teamed up and gave me my ship back - my home for so many years, back - on my birthday.  My birthday.  

And it was the first birthday I actually remember doing anything for.  Before it was usually work.  Or fight.  Or drink.  Last year I think I just sat on my ship and drew. And the year before that.  This year, Vyen'a and Jerhal teamed for my ship, and Jerhal took me out to dinner and just catered to me all day and...

*Another laugh*

And I have a hearing date. It's in a few weeks.  Master Ihlrath... I don't know what he did, but he must have pulled strings because I know people can go years without even getting a preliminary meeting.  I'm just terrified that I'll go in with Jerhal with wedding plans for afterward and leave in cuffs.  I'm still so scared everything will come crashing down.  That I won't get the same clearance for my past others have because I'm not force sensitive, or anyone important.

*A few beats of silence, the rumblings of an engine purring through the feed.*

But Jerhal promised he'd fight for me.  And I know he will.

I'm actually flying to pick him up now.  

We have a whole lot ahead of us.  But he's worth it.

I'm beginning to believe again that I'm worth it, too.

Ty'nea sat in her comfortable chair, blanket wrapped securely around her shoulders, and stared out the window into the vast nothingness of space. For an hour she had sat perfectly still, the cup of tea in her hands growing cold, her mind racing in circles around the night's events.

It wasn't the crowd that got to her. It wasn't that Jerhal had walked away to speak with someone. It was the voice. The woman's voice, dripping with the elite crispness found nowhere else in the galaxy but Dromund Kaas. She could steel herself to hear it on Nar Shaddaa, maybe even Coruscant. But she had her guard down. She was unprepared to hear the tone cutting through the air on Carrick Station.  The harsh yet melodic Imperial accent that spoke of Sith and the terror buried deep in her heart took her out right at the knees; the blood drained from her face and her arms went tingly and she was in a panic before the voice mingled into the sound of the cantina.

She was amazed she had held it together as long as she had. She had watched Jerhal walk away with the woman with the voice. Everything went sideways then; the sounds of the cantina blending together in a roar of cacophony against her ears. But she had managed to stay standing. To finish her wine. It was only when her hand began to shake so hard that the graphite she had been idly using to sketch a bottle of brandy cracked between her fingers that she knew she couldn't hold it together any more.

Master Moirianna had walked her home; the Miraluka woman didn't know her from anyone else other than as Jerhal's fiancee and yet she didn't flinch as Ty'nea's resolve broke and she sobbed herself into sickness, didn't cringe when the vomit hit her boots.  Instead, the woman had merely held her until she calmed down with no questions, had helped her and Jerhal clean up, and had quietly took her leave afterward.

It was the afterward that worried her the most.  The hour was late, but it was even darker than usual; Ty'nea had never seen that look on Jerhal's face before - the absolute abject terror he usually held in check had bubbled up to the surface and into his eyes as he saw her.  

And now, in the dark hours afterward, she sat in her chair quietly, tea gone cold in her hands.  Jerhal slept soundly in the other room; so exhausted from the absolute emotional dump of a talk they had both had that he didn't even stir when she left their bed.  And like when she sat in the office at Coruscant, waiting for them to call her name, the what ifs began to creep around the corners of consciousness.

What if he decides I'm not worth it?

What if he finds someone else?

She looked toward the dark room beyond the doorway, listening to the even sound of sleep beyond, and took a shaky breath, looking down at the cup cradled in her hands.

Then you fight, you stupid bitch.  You fight.

You should never have stopped fighting in the first place.

She set the cup on the table, looking out the window again.  The stars twinkled against the black velvet that stretched out to infinity, darker than any other night she could remember.

But she knew then.  She remembered the old saying.

The darkest hours are just before the light shines through.

She stood, looking toward the door again.  Master Ihlrath had offered to talk to the immigration officials for her; to see if her could prod her paperwork into the fast track.  He had offered her use of an extra ship the Marran had in their growing armada.   She would comm him during the next day to accept both offers.  But first she would curl up with Jerhal until morning.

And his love would help her start to shine.