I was inspired by this amazing, tear jerker by @dingoat the other day, and asked her permission to write a response. For those who don’t know, Fynta and Ahuska officially met back in 2018 when Fynta tried to poach Boy. There was punching and growling and cursing involved, and it sparked the entertaining friendship that they share today.
Naturally, when I read about Boy’s passing, I couldn’t ignore it. This is just a short blip of Fynta working out her feelings about a friend who’s lost someone important, even if she doesn’t fully understand it.
*artwork of that fateful meeting below the cut.
Word Count: 615
Fynta stared at the words on her datapad and wondered for the millionth time if she should have Cormac go over them. A strange tightness had appeared in her chest within seconds of learning that Ahuska’s pet varactyl had passed. The feeling hadn’t eased. She felt a sense of loss for her friend, a gentle soul who didn’t differentiate between animals and sentient beings.
While Fynta admired the beauty and tenacity of wildlife, she’d never connected with it. Not in the spiritual way some did. Still, there was no denying the discomfort that accompanied her memories of Boy. The hollow pit in Fynta’s stomach went beyond sympathy and into something more personal. It was a ridiculous claim since she’d only met the varactyl a few times, but it persisted.
Fynta smirked when she thought of that day: the brightly colored plumage through her scope, then the shock of toppling ass over end when Ahuska rammed her. The Bothan had fought with a ferocity that belied her tenderness. Even the indignity at the idea of Fynta wanting to eat her precious pet carried a certain amount of sadness now that he was gone.
No doubt Ahuska felt Boy's absence keenly, and Fynta felt obligated to share in it. She didn't know if varactyl had souls or where they went if they did. But, maybe if Ahuska knew that someone else in this vast galaxy would remember her Boy, it would somehow ease the burden of having to do it herself.
Fynta sighed and tossed the datapad onto the bed. Or, maybe it was all a stupid idea and Fynta should stick to blowing shit up instead of trying to soothe feelings with words. She growled in the back of her throat and waited for an epiphany.
“Whatcha doing?” Aric asked as he entered the room. He stopped to watch Fynta while she stared at the abandoned datapad. “Everything okay?”
Fynta harrumphed, but didn’t look at her husband. “Soul searching.”
Aric lowered himself on the edge of the bed. “How's that going?”
“Still searching,” Fynta answered. The longer she stared at the device, the stronger the inclination to delete the message became.
Aric followed Fynta’s gaze and reached for the datapad. His hand hovered, asking permission without speaking, then picked it up when Fynta waved that she didn’t care. After a minute of silence, Aric huffed a sound somewhere between a sort and laugh. Fynta lifted an eyebrow.
“Not dumb and rambling?” Fynta asked. Though Aric didn’t have the way with words that Cormac managed, he wouldn’t lie. Not about this. Fynta leaned back in her chair, and some of the pressure behind her ribs eased.
Aric stood and put a hand on Fynta's shoulder while he leaned behind her to retrieve a holozine from the desk. “It’s you. I think Ahuska will understand.“
“I hope so,” Fynta snorted. “I've never written a condolence letter for a varactyl before.”
“Boy wasn't just a varactyl to Ahuska. He was family.” Aric kissed the top of Fynta’s head and started for the door with his prize. “Send it and be done.”
Fynta sighed and picked up her datpad. Boy had impacted more than just Ahuska’s life, he’d changed the direction of Fynta’s too. He’d unwittingly orchestrated a chance meeting over an activity that Fynta had never thought twice about. Boy had turned what could have been an enemy into a valued friend.
“I guess family comes in all sorts,” Fynta snorted, accepting the idea with a smile. Nodding to herself, she hit send. Ahuska was Mandalorian, she wouldn’t expect much more from Fynta than that in return.
Y’all, it’s been so long since I’ve had inspiration for anything. So when I jumped out of the shower with this lovey drawing by @dingoat in mind and an idea to go with it I was so stupidly excited. This has not been heavily edited or beta’d, but I don’t care because I finally feel like writing again. Thank you, Dingoat!
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They reached one another at the same time, armor slamming together with a force that nearly toppled them over. The stench of singed fur still clung to Aric, but the strength of his arms around her assured Fynta that he was okay.
Fynta remembered the battle with painful clarity. She’d rushed onto the light bridge, drawing the Sith’s attention so that Aric could get to a perch. She’d barely made it a handful of steps before growing lightheaded with inertia. Her body reacted before her mind understood, flailing to grasp anything solid to halt her plunge into the gorge below. When Fynta’s fingers found purchase, it was on the edge of the bridge that she’d been standing on seconds earlier.
The Sith offered a gruff laugh, stalking forward with lightsaber poised for the kill. The hatred in those burning eyes, and the glee found in that madness was branded into Fynta’s memory. Fynta’s attempts to pull herself up proved to be in vain. Her armor had never weighed so much, further straining the tenuous hold Fynta had on the bridge.
A shadow fell over Fynta. She was out of time, gaze fixed on the angry blade inching towards her hands. The Sith could have kicked Fynta into the abyss, but she wanted a plaything. Fynta vowed to hold out for as long as she could, until every finger was severed if that’s what her team needed to take their enemy down.
Imagined heat hovered above Fynta’s left hand, and she braced for the pain to come. A flicker of movement in her peripheral jerked Fynta’s head around. She’d barely registered the armor before Aric plowed into the Sith. He’d taken her by surprise, hitting her with enough speed that they skidded along the bridge for several feet in a tangle of limbs.
It didn’t take long for the Sith to find her feet, and Aric’s snarl of pain when lightning lept from her fingers echoed in Fynta’s ears. She didn’t remember shouting or the effort to pull herself to safety, only the frantic drive to reach the pair before Aric’s armor couldn’t shield him anymore.
The attack was a blur. Fynta’s gauntlet slammed into the Sith’s side, blade extended. The woman shrieked and toppled sideways, gasping through the hole Fynta had put in her lung. One hand extended, and Fynta’s feet no longer found purchase. She hit the ground on her back, a spare ammo clip digging into her kidney with the landing.
A blaster discharged, and Fynta shoved upright to find Aric standing over the still figure with Fynta’s Verpine in hand. She checked her holster to find it empty, then scrambled back to her feet. Aric’s helmet lifted, then he moved too.
They reached one another at the same time, armor slamming together with a force that nearly toppled them over. The strength of Aric’s arms around her assured Fynta that he was okay. He tucked her helmet beneath his chin and sighed. “Never do that again.”
Kazuko belongs to @dimigex from her awesome Naruto fic Healing Hands. My Saiyo is a disaster character who pops in from time to time to make Sakura and Tenzo’s lives a little more stressful. As it turns out, she’s got a thing for doctors.
These are all loosely edited for time’s sake because I don’t want them to fall to the wayside.
50 Kisses Prompts Found here
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Saiyo chewed the inside of her cheek, struggling with the simple loop knot that Kazuko had shown her. The door opened, admitting the doctor in question. “How’s it going?”
Sitting back, Saiyo grimaced at the butchered chicken carcass. “Could be worse.”
Kazuko set the dinner he’d retrieved on the counter before moving to stand behind Saiyo’s chair. When he didn’t comment, she tipped her head back. “Well?”
Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Kazuko leaned closer. “Well, it will certainly keep a shinobi’s internal organs where they belong.” He poked at the thing that had been meant for their dinner. Now, it was a jagged mess of stiff suture thread and looked like it could be used as a weapon.
Saiyo pushed from the table, careful to avoid Kazuko’s toes, and stomped towards the kitchen. “If it’s shit just say so. I don’t need your coddling.” She peered into the bag to see what he’s decided on and sighed when it didn’t appear to be fried. She supposed that she shouldn’t complain since he’d given up his original idea for her to practice on.
“It’s fine.” Kazuko leaned closer to examine Saiyo’s stitching. “Practice will make it pretty, so long as they hold, that’s all that matters."
Saiyo glared, wishing for the tenth time that day that Kazuko hadn’t cleared out his alcohol. The man hadn’t kept much, but it was enough to take the edge off. Despite everyone with a hint of medical training declaring the benefits, sobriety sucked.
“I need it to be perfect,” Saiyo argued. Doctor Haruno had made it clear that she wouldn't reinstate Saiyo until she got the help she didn’t need. If Saiyo could take a valuable skill set back to the woman, then the bitch would have to let Saiyo back onto the Anbu roster. Siayo’s only other alternative was therapy, and that would take too long. With a sigh, she settled on coffee and pretended that she had some rum to dump into it.
Kazuko left the nightmarish poultry on the table and joined Saiyo in the kitchen. When she refused to acknowledge his presence, the man leaned one elbow on the counter, lowered his glasses, then peered over them at her. Saiyo hated it when he did that and bit down on her tongue to keep from showing that it had worked. In the end, Kazuko won; he always did.
“Damn you,” Saiyo chuckled. It faded quickly as she looked at the civilian who’d taken her in. He wasn’t anything like the guys Siayo was used to, and despite his kindness, she missed the rowdy laughter and swearing of her friends. Saiyo could still see them, but the humiliation of being benched kept her away.
“You’ve made amazing progress for the short time you've been doing it,” Kazuko said, sensing the change in Saiyo's mood. His hand rested on her arm, offering a light squeeze. “Stop trying to rush back into battle and focus on this for a little longer.”
When Saiyo looked away, Kazuko captured her chin to force her attention back to him. She looked into the same kind face that had found her in that alley and brought her into his home when she wouldn’t go to the hospital. Saiyo couldn’t express all of her fears about being replaced on Yamato’s team, or how empty she felt, how out of control this civilian world seemed compared to the organized chaos of her Anbu home.
When Kazuko opened his mouth to offer more encouragement, Saiyo couldn’t take it. She didn’t want to hear any more kind words about persevering. Her lips crashed into his, fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt to hold him close. Saiyo swallowed Kazuko’s garbled yelp and let the friction of the moment carry her away from her insecurities.
Saiyo regained her senses at the same time that Kazuko’s free hand rested on her hip. She jerked back with a gasp. “Shit, I’m sorry, I--”
Kazuko chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. “I’m getting used to it.” He righted the glasses that Saiyo had knocked askew and hooked a thumb over his shoulder where her patient waited on the table. “Want me to show you a trick?”
Characters: Fynta Wolfe, Balic Cormac, Aric Jorgan
Rating: T
Word Count: 958
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Nar Shaddaa
Residential Sector
Apartment 215
“It’s too tight. You’re going to rip it.”
Aric Jorgan paused outside of his bedroom, trying to reason out why a man was in there. Once he’d placed the voice, he debated whether or not it would be wise to enter. Turning off the datapad on the latest sniper scopes, Jorgan kneaded the bridge of his nose and listened to the scuffle inside. He should be furious that Fynta would bring another man into their bedroom. The ship was one thing, but their apartment was sacred. Trust was the only thing that stayed Aric’s temper. Well, trust and an unhealthy dose of curiosity.
“I am not,” Cormac grunted. “Just need to wiggle it a little more, yeah, like that.”
Jorgan lifted his eyes to the ceiling, wondering if the two idiots inside had any idea what half of their conversations sounded like out of context. After years of living together as a squad, he’d come across too many instances where Fynta and Balic hatched some hair-brained plot behind a barely closed door. As if they took eavesdroppers as a challenge.
“Okay, big guy,” Fynta huffed, breath airy in a way that made Jorgan’s brow lift. “One inch at a time.”
“I’ve only got twenty minutes before Elara gets back. Slow and steady isn’t going to cut it.” Cormac growled, then yelped. “Damn it, woman. Easy on the goods.”
A low, evil chuckle preceded Fynta’s reply. “You said that you were in a hurry.”
Bracing himself, Jorgan pushed open the door to find Cormac lying on his back while Fynta stood over him, straddling his middle while she wrestled with what looked like bantha hide trousers. The big man cursed and snatched a poofy, white shirt over his bare torso with an embarrassed half-smile.
“Hey, riduur,” Fynta growled while she forced the fabric over Cormac’s upright leg. “How was the meeting?”
Though normally difficult to tell through his darker complexion, redness crept up Cormac’s neck and cheeks. It was impossible to flee with Fynta’s foot planted on his stomach for support, though Aric thought he might try. With a huff, she straightened. “Okay, maybe you’re not the same size as Blue.”
Cormac grunted when Fynta pushed off him. She’d managed to get his foot through, but the pants had barely been worked up to his knees. “Alright, you’re on your own for the rest.”
Fynta hopped down from the bed to rummage through her closet. Jorgan turned his back in an attempt to ignore Cormac’s grunts of protest while he worked the breeches further up his body.
Aric joined Fynta at her closet and leaned forward to see what she was doing. “Should I ask?”
“Surprise for Elara,” Fynta answered without turning from her goal. She let out a cheer, emerging with a dust-covered shoe box. Thankfully, Cormac had managed to get the pants up and was attempting to fasten them when Fynta dropped the box on the bed. “These should fit, at least. I know you wear the same size shoe.”
“Thanks, boss.” Balic let out a long breath when he finally secured the lower half of his outfit, then reached for the top. Jorgan pressed his lips into a tight line to avoid the smile trying to creep into place.
The sleeves that Fynta buttoned at Cormac’s wrists probably contained more fabric than the entire body of the shirt. They poofed out, made all the larger by the man’s ridiculous musculature, and cinched in around the waist to accent how uncomfortably tight those pants were. Jorgan cleared his throat and averted his gaze.
“Why do you have your old mentor’s clothes in your closet?” Jorgan asked, searching for anything to distract him from all the areas his mind shouldn’t go when it came to why Cormac needed such an outfit to surprise Elara. He'd always suspected that there had been something more than platonic about her relationship with the Chiss double agent, but neither had ever broached the topic.
When Fynta answered, Aric heard the grin in her voice. “I stole them from his locker one night when he gave me perimeter detail as a punishment for something I probably shouldn’t have done in the first place." She patted Cormac's chest. "That should do it.”
Cormac sauntered up to the mirror with all the self-respect of a man who knew his worth. “Hey, this isn’t half bad.” Aric watched the man turn one way, then another while he examined the outcome of his and Fynta’s hard work. With a hearty laugh, he clapped his hands. “I owe you, boss, oh shit, I need to get going. You two have fun.”
Snatching his jacket, Cormac darted from the room. Jorgan heard the front door shut a moment later and turned to his wife. “I worry about you two.”
Fynta laughed and went to the other side of their bed. She vanished behind it, emerging a minute later with a box from the local dry cleaners. Aric moved closer, curious about what she’d thought important enough to make the trip across town instead of using the free one on base. The flash of blue in the overhead light made his stomach tighten, then an excited growl slipped through his teeth when Fynta pulled his favorite outfit from within. “I thought we might stay home tonight and...rekindle some old memories.”
It took effort to drag his gaze from the sequined strips of fabric that had haunted his dreams since their first trip to Nar Shaddaa years ago, but Jorgan managed. The heat in Fynta’s eyes made his knees weak. “So, what do you say?”
Closing the distance between them, Aric pulled his wife into a rough kiss. “You get dressed,” he breathed against her lips. “I’ll lock the door.”
“That’s disgusting.” Shillet’s laughter rang through the abandoned mess hall when Aric and Cormac returned with supplies. Fall had arrived, and Fynta had announced that it was long past due for their family to celebrate in true Mando’a fashion. Verin, Keshal, and the baby had arrived the day before, joining their son and soon to be daughter in the Alliance for an extended visit.
Cormac rounded the corner into the kitchen to find Fynta and Zula digging into the guts of a large gourd. Shillet sat on the counter by the serving window, face scrunched at the stringy mess dangling between the older women’s fingers, while Elara sifted sugar into a large bowl of seeds. Cormac leaned against the counter, mindful of Shillet’s swinging feet, and wrinkled his nose to match hers. “What is that?”
“Tradition,” Zula answered. The fiery Mandalorian youngster had made herself at home within her new family. Cormac expected her to be shy, but she’d shouldered past Tranx and locked arms with Fynta to proclaim her as an adopted aunt. Cormac and Elara had been absorbed in the wake, giving Tayl two other cousins to look up to.
Jorgan leaned through the window to flick one of Shillet’s head tresses. The Nautolan teen rolled her eyes in that way always made the grumpy Cathar laugh. “It smells awful.”
Fynta tisked, lifting her hand as if to flick the goo in their direction. All three dodged with Cormac and Shillet butting heads in the middle. With a triumphant smirk, Fynta made a shooing gesture at them. “No men in the kitchen this year. Go mingle."
When no one moved, Fynta huffed and angled her thumb over one shoulder. "Don’t make me sick my Jedi on you.” Noara moved behind the other women, bouncing baby Jodi and making cooing noises while they observed the mess from a safe distance.
Keshal appeared out of the walk-in chiller with a pitcher of ice before Cormac could think to ask where she was. He lifted his hands in surrender when the woman lifted a brow in an all too familiar, Fynta-ish way, and slunk towards the door. When Shillet tried to follow, Keshal clicked her tongue. “Not you, girl. Now, get your sheb’ika over here and help with the next step.”
“Oh come on.” Shillet flapped her arms at Jorgan, who looked to be having trouble containing his amusement. “A little help, dad?”
“Nope,” Fynta called. She was elbow-deep in the orange goo now and Cormac took another step away. “Someone’s got to teach you how to cook, and it isn’t him. Get over there and help Keshal.”
With the flare that only a teenager could manage, Shillet stomped back into the kitchen. Cormac saw her small arms anchor across her chest before the kitchen was lost to him. With more humor than Cormac had heard in years, Jorgan clapped him on the shoulder and steered them towards where Verin sat astride a backward chair while directing something hidden from view. “That’s no way to hold a blade. Son, teach the boy.”
When Cormac drew closer, his heart clenched with fear at finding his seven-year-old with a blade, then eased when he realized that his child wasn’t alone. Tranx sat cross-legged on the floor with Tayl cradled in his lap. His hands rested over the boy’s while they carved an intricate design into the side of the thing that had produced the guts Fynta and Zula were playing with.
“That’s better.” Verin tipped his drink towards the two. “That other hold was a good way to lose a finger, then your mom might not like me as much.”
Torian offered Cormac and Jorgan a cup similar to the one that Verin held. "Tranx is a good teacher," he added. "He's good with kids, too."
"I trust him," Cormac replied, even while his stomach still fluttered with every swipe of the blade.
Being distracted by watching the boys work, Balic didn’t ask what he'd been given and was pleased to find that it was one of Torian’s specialty brews for weaker stomached aruetiise. The sweet spice of the ne'tra gal warmed away Cormac’s concerns, leaving him with the whimsy of having their entire family under one roof.
Pausing, Tayl tipped his head back to look at Tranx. “Why does it have a face?”
“To scare away the bad things,” the boy answered with a grin that could have been straight off Verin’s face. Cormac wondered if Tranx’s father had been a goofball too, or if he’d inherited Verin’s knack for easy humor.
Tayl studied the face he and Tranx had created as if considering whether or not it was scary enough. Whatever his thoughts, the boy kept them to himself as he indicated to Tranx that he was ready to start cutting again. Silence settled over them as the four older men observed the next generation absorbing traditions from the past. Cormac knew that this peace wouldn’t last. There would be war again, tearing families apart and sending them into chaos. But for now, he was content to watch his son enjoy a quiet moment in peace.
Word Count: 5313
Story: Jedi Sitters
This is a smashup of two different drabbles written by both myself and @kunoichi-ume that I added more to when I realized they fit together. Brace yourselves for the ultimate fluff of a first kiss!
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Rage seethed through Kadu with a ferocity that scared him. Whatever doubt he'd had about this attachment to Jurr vanished in the face of her commander’s accusations. Normally, Kadu didn’t attend the debriefing after a mission, that wasn’t his role within Havoc. With Darvic injured and Felix refusing to leave the young soldier’s side, someone had to go with Jurr to the debriefing.
As the medical specialist for Havoc, Kadu had done everything within his power to stabilize Darvic. It had been enough to get him to Coruscant, at least. Now, they simply had to wait.
Meanwhile, Jurr’s handler berated her for poor leadership skills and demanded stipulations that would be impossible for even the most stable of soldiers to live up to. In truth, the intelligence had been faulty and Havoc had gone in unprepared. Nothing could have changed their circumstances. Jurr’s implants had performed perfectly and she'd acted as any commanding officer would have in that situation.
While Kadu had been present for scoldings before, not even his seat on the Jedi Council could have prepared him for the degradation used in a military dressing down. Jedi, no matter how angry, didn’t raise their voice in such a manner. He’d forced unwavering attention on the general for fear that if he looked at Jurr, he’d lose his shaky grasp on his tongue. It wasn’t his place to speak out in military matters. Kadu wasn’t a soldier, he was a healer on loan for special circumstances.
The ride back to the medcenter was silent. Jurr stared out the window while Kadu seethed inside. He could feel her anguish through their Force bond and struggled to keep his emotions separate. This was why the Order warned against attachment. Kadu was awash with fear, regret, embarrassment, and hopelessness; none of it his own.
Kadu opened his mouth to offer comfort, but couldn’t find the right words. Military commanders saw only results, and a dead objective plus one wounded soldier meant that Jurr’s mission was marked as a failure. It didn’t matter that the man had been dead for hours by the time Havoc Squad arrived or that they’d been outmanned, she should have gotten there faster--fought harder.
When the taxi stopped outside of the medcenter, Jurr scanned her military stipend card and exited without looking around. She looked ahead, single eye fixed on the doors. Kadu followed, but stopped her before they entered the medcenter.
Pulling Jurr to a secluded sitting area, Kadu took her face gently into his hands. “This was not your fault.” He kept his voice low, staying out of Jurr’s blind spot so that he knew she was listening.
Jurr nodded wordlessly, staring back at him with a watery gaze. Kadu brushed the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks before kissing her forehead. It was a risk with so many security cameras around, but one he felt worth it. Sometimes, all a person needed was to know that they weren’t alone.
That small contact broke through Jurr’s defenses, and she threw her arms around Kadu’s waist to yank him closer. Kadu folded his arms around her, feeling the rapid breaths against his chest where her face buried in his shirt. The anger Kadu had only just pushed down roared to life again at the sound of her quiet sobs. Next time, he would not remain her passive companion; they would hear what he had to say.
Not even a minute had passed before Jurr’s breathing came under control. Clearing her throat, she pulled out of the safety of Kadu’s arms and tugged at her SpecForce jacket. “We should check on Darvic.”
Kadu nodded, his body cold without her slight form to warm him. He palmed the door open and held one hand out for Jurr to precede him to the elevators. Neither spoke while the readout ticked off floors. When he stepped off, Kadu found the rest of Havoc waiting in the small sitting area.
Ginell Kanner stood first, offering a nod of respect and launching into an update before either Jurr or Kadu could request it. “Lewton is stable. Doc says that Master Jadon did an impressive job keeping the kid’s insides where they belonged and suggested he avoid standing so close to explosives from now on.”
Felix snorted. “Everyone’s a comedian these days.”
Jurr scanned the room, then her eye flicked to the cracked door where the corporal presumably rested. “Wharton?”
“Where do you think?” Kanner asked with a stiff nod towards the room. “She kicked the lieutenant out an hour ago and hasn’t let anyone else inside.”
“I’m not bothered,” Felix chimed with a half smirk from where he flipped through a holozine, feet propped on the little table situated in the middle of the chairs. “Girl knows more about what those monitors are saying than I do.”
Tamsin Wharton was a new transfer to Havoc. She was clever, brilliant even, and a medical student who’d somehow managed to get herself assigned as Kadu’s understudy. She took her position as medic seriously and had been known to scold anyone, regardless of rank, for foolish behavior. So far, only Kadu had been spared her wrath. Darvic was a special thorn in Tamsin’s side, like the little brother she’d lost when she was young. Kadu knew the woman was married to a soldier, but hadn’t met her husband. Tamsin kept her military life stubbornly separate from her personal life.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Kadu squeezed Jurr’s shoulder and headed towards the room to convince his student that it was time to share the patient.
Jurr watched Kadu until he vanished through the door. The weight of the day threatened to crush her without his soothing comfort. She’d wanted to hear him say that things would be alright, but the brushes of anger through their connection only amplified her fear. No matter how well he tried to hide it, Jurr sensed his fury. She had disappointed him. That alone made Jurr want to hide away until she could get her thoughts sorted.
Instead, Jurr faced her men. “Get some rest.” Felix opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “That’s an order, Iresso. We don’t know when we'll get the chance again. Sleep on the Thunderclap if you want.”
“Visiting hours were over an hour ago, anyway,” Kadu added while ushering Tamsin into the main area. He cast a bemused look at Kanner. “Only, apparently the staff was too nervous to kick you out, so they’ve left it to me.” He silenced the round of protests before they could begin with an upheld hand. “Darvic will be moved to a kolto tank tomorrow. Sitting here won’t make him heal faster.”
Yawns and grunts of opposition followed the Havoc soldiers into the lift. They were halfway down when Felix crossed his arms. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need a break from the cots on the Thunderclap. I want a bed tonight.”
“Getting stiff in your old age, grandpa?” Ginell teased Felix’s reflection in the polished door, then ducked when his open hand flashed towards the back of her head. Felix was the most senior member of Havoc, and Ginell and Darvic never let him forget it. The man harrumphed, but he couldn’t mask the pull at the corners of his lips.
Jurr found Havoc a hotel close to the medcenter that would take military credit and booked four rooms. One for the Kanner and Wharton to share, then one for each of the privileged officers. Kadu could have gotten an entire suite with his credentials, but preferred simpler surroundings.
Exhaustion wore Jurr down until she was too tired to sleep. She tossed and turned on the single bed, watched a little TV, then took a warm shower. Nothing would soothe her frantic mind. “Of all the times to have perfect memory,” she huffed at the ceiling. It didn’t have an opinion on the matter.
Finally, Jurr threw the blankets off to seek comfort elsewhere. She’d just reached for her jacket when a light rap on the door made her pause. Relief washed over Jurr instantly and she hurried to answer the request for entry. Only one person could be calling so late.
Kadu stood in the hallway, a patience smile on his face and a duffle in hand. “Can’t sleep?” Those words were as much a trigger as Trev’s ‘What’s new, JJ?’ had been when they were children. They invoked a sense of peace and well being. Jurr wasn't sure if it was intended or a byproduct of the friendship she and Kadu had cultivated.
Stepping aside, Jurr let Kadu into her room and locked the door while he set his belongings on the desk. “Did I wake you?”
“I never fell asleep.” Kadu turned and studied Jurr with the familiar expression of a man waiting for an explanation. Jurr averted her gaze and hugged her arms tight around herself.
Kadu sighed and closed the space between them, warm palms resting on her upper arms. “Stop blaming yourself for what happened today.”
Jurr risked an upward glance when his hands rubbed small lines over her biceps. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Mad? I—” Kadu’s brow scrunched, fingers tightening on Jurr’s arms until she looked at him completely. “You sensed my anger?” There was a peculiar note in his voice, one that she couldn't put her finger on.
Jurr nodded through a deep sigh, searching the room for anything to focus on instead of Kadu’s fiery gaze. “Sometimes I get flashes of what you’re feeling. It used to happen with Trev...I think, but not as strong.” Tears burned behind her right eye. “I’m sorry, Kadu, I know that I messed up, but I’ll—”
Kadu reached out with the Force before he fully realized what he was doing and tugged Jurr into his arms. She let out a startled squeak at the unseen pull before settling against his chest.
Pressing his cheek to Jurr's unstyled hair, Kadu rubbed her back. “My anger was never with you, Mri’ka.”
“Oh.” Jurr sagged against Kadu’s warmth and let out a shaky breath. She wanted to ask what it had been about earlier, but decided that it wasn't her place.
A yawn escaped as Jurr’s muscles unlocked. Kadu straightened his arms, turned her towards the bed, and gave a gentle shove. “Get under the blankets, I’ll be there shortly.”
Jurr obeyed, draping her jacket over the computer chair before sliding beneath the comforter. She heard the sound of water and gargling from the fresher and smirked at the mental image of Kadu brushing his teeth. She shouldn’t find the idea of flossing those sharp fangs as entertaining as she did, but it always brought a smile to her face.
Reaching for her drawing pad, Jurr stopped when Kadu emerged, momentarily distracted from her inspiration but the image he displayed. Kadu wore a pair of loose, purple shorts that matched the oversized shirt Jurr had chosen to sleep in. Of course, they’d been a set when he purchased them with full knowledge that Jurr would steal the top half of the outfit at the first opportunity. Kadu always slept shirtless. For such a modest Jedi master, the Cathar hated clothing.
Jurr held back one corner of the blanket in an invitation, and Kadu glided into position with a grace that she would never possess. He propped against the headboard, his right arm extended so that Jurr could nestle her blind eye against his chest without obscuring her vision. Small fingers slid through the fur on his chest, finding that spot on his ribs where her hand nestled perfectly.
With Kadu’s firm body next to hers, and the gentle peace of their bond, Jurr drifted to sleep listening to the thumping of his heart. The day had been long and fucked up, but in this moment, she felt safe and wanted.
_________________________________
Jurr woke slowly, awareness of her surroundings creeping into focus despite how she fought it. She didn’t want to wake from the pleasant dream already slipping away. Squeezing her eye tighter, Jurr curled into the warmth that beat back the reality of her life. One that helped her forget about the day and stop worrying about the injured soldier laying in the medcenter. Unable to quiet her mind, Jurr turned over and opened her eye.
Kadu was lying next to her, one of his arms draped over her waist while he slept. She lived for moments like this, when all was quiet except for the deep, rumbling purr in his chest, and she could let herself soak in his nearness.
The last few months had brought them closer together, often sitting with her leaning against him, but Jurr could tell there was a hesitancy in the way he touched her. Kadu would reach out when he thought she couldn’t see, then drop his hand and turn away. In those moments, Jurr’s heart tightened to the point she could barely breathe.
Jurr slid closer to Kadu in the dark hotel room. Close enough that if she leaned forward, her lips would brush his chin, and sighed in contentment when his arm tightened around her. Jurr laid her head against the mattress, making the implants on her face dig into her skin. It was easier to pretend that they weren’t there that way; out of sight out of mind.
It was hard to keep her mind from wandering to how life might be different without them. Jurr had tried for years not to ponder too closely, but now she couldn’t seem to stop herself from daydreaming about it. Would Kadu still hesitate to touch her if she were beautiful? If she wasn’t scarred and broken, a patient in need of his care. Could he care about her if she were whole?
In all of Jurr’s spotty memories, no man had ever drawn her attention the way Kadu did. He was exquisite, his features fascinating to her artist’s eye. What Jurr wouldn’t give to be able to draw him exactly as she saw him, but her work never did him justice. Jurr often found herself lost in thought while watching him. When Kadu noticed, his smile made her heart race.
Carefully, Jurr raised her hand to brush the fur on Kadu’s shoulder, smiling at the feel of it under her fingers. What would it be like to caress him openly like this? Jurr touched Kadu often but rarely as intimately as she desired. Never able to explore his body with the reverence he deserved.
Kadu drifted into consciousness with a sense of relaxation that frequently eluded him upon waking. Too often the effect of leaving a dream was jarring, and more recently, disappointing. Before the Cathar opened his eyes, he felt the feather-light touch of cautious fingers combing through his fur. Opening his mind, Kadu found Jurr’s essence awake and...curious. He steadied his breathing, faking sleep to see how far she would go this time.
It was a ridiculous notion, Kadu welcoming Jurr’s touch the way she craved his. Even more so to think that he coveted hers. He was a Jedi Master, attractive and bound by rules that Jurr didn't understand. If the Cathar was going to break his vows, it wouldn’t be with her.
There was a word for what Jurr wanted, a small one that she hardly dared think of because the lack of it in her life hurt so much. It was an impossible dream, one that couldn’t come true. Not like the nightmares that clung despite being unable to retain the memories that caused them. Terrors that drove Jurr from her bed into the only comfort she knew, and the one place she felt truly safe.
Kadu fought down the shiver that threatened to give him away. Jurr’s fingers danced along his arm, tracing muscle and sinew hidden by his fur. A mental image mapped out where stripes wrapped around his ribs as he followed her caresses. Kadu swallowed the growl of desire bubbling in his throat for fear of scaring Jurr away.
For weeks they’d danced around a topic that neither could afford to acknowledge. A chemical attraction built between them, growing stronger every day. The mere scent of Jurr passing through a room was enough to trigger Kadu’s possessive instincts. He grappled with the drive to claim her, the emotions linked to that need too complex to put into words. Kadu had no desire to dominate, but he must protect. There was no interest in caging, but a vast pride in displaying this woman as his. Someone who would claim him as hers.
This is wrong. Jurr was taking advantage of Kadu’s kindness, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay away. She couldn’t remember ever sleeping better than she did in Kadu’s arms, and Jurr never felt more at peace with the chaos in her mind than in his presence. However long he would allow these moments of respite, she would take them and sort out her guilty conscience later.
With a quiet sigh, Jurr lifted her hand from Kadu’s body. Maybe it would be best to break ties now, to force herself out of his bed and back into her lonely room to face unknown demons alone. Would it hurt less when he finally moved on, or should she cling to these moments and hope they kept her company in years to come?
“Don’t stop.” The voice was husky from sleep, but Jurr’s spine stiffened as if he’d shouted.
Slowly, two glowing embers appeared in the darkness. Jurr swallowed, caught between embarrassment and hope. When she didn’t move, Kadu’s hand traced up her spine to toy with the loose strands of hair draped over her ear. “Please?”
“You don’t mind?” Jurr asked with less hesitancy than she felt. Her stomach flipped at being found out, and she wondered how many other nights he’d laid awake while she fantasized about the impossible.
Kadu arched his back in a feline stretch and scooted close enough that Jurr could feel the heat from his body. “It’s soothing.” She blinked into a face barely visible in the dim light from the chrono, unsure of how to respond to his request.
Long seconds passed while Kadu waited for Jurr to make her choice. He prepared himself for her flight with some excuse about paperwork. Open acts of physical affection terrified the Havoc commander for reasons he still hadn’t figured out. It took gentle maneuvering when they first met just for Jurr to allow him medical access to her body. What he craved now blurred those lines completely. He wanted Jurr to know that she held absolute power over him, regardless of how she chose to wield it.
Slowly, Jurr’s hand lifted, then settled on the side of his face. His eyes drifted shut, purr intensifying when her fingers slipped into the hair behind his ears. Shivers of pleasure danced across Kadu’s skin as he angled his head to offer Jurr better access to his scalp.
“You really like this?” Jurr asked, fighting down the thrill of combing through Kadu’s soft hair. He slept with it unbound, letting the shoulder length locks fall in messy disarray. She’d always wanted to touch it but that felt too intrusive. He’d always been fond of his hair.
Kadu hummed, peeking one eye open to gauge Jurr’s reaction. A pleased smile tugged at the corner of her lips, sinking him deeper into this unexpected attachment. A small growl escaped when Jurr licked her lips, and she stopped mid-stroke.
Taking Jurr’s hand in his, Kadu lowered it until her palm was pressed against his bare chest. Heart thumping rapidly, he held her there until he was sure that she felt his pulse. Low light vision allowed Kadu to see Jurr’s eye flick to their joined hands before returning to his face. Kadu wondered what he looked like in the dark, and delighted in the lack of fear emanating through their bond. Her trust meant everything to him, ratcheting up the guilt that came with these forbidden feelings swelling in his chest.
With his free hand, Kadu tucked a strand of vibrant hair behind Jurr’s ear and thumbed one of the many piercings marking it. “You are beautiful, Mri’ka.”
A small, derisive snort threatened to unfocus Jurr. “I get it, you’re sleep talking.”
Kadu chuckled and inched closer, trapping their hands between them. He felt Jurr’s chest expand and retreat against his forearm with every breath and held her gaze. “I assure you that I am very much awake.”
Any closer, and Kadu would cross a line that he’d sworn to stay away from. For months, he’d tiptoed closer, letting this small, forgetful soldier inside defenses that had remained impenetrable since his youth. “Jurr—” Trev was going to kill him. Kadu had sworn to behave honorably around his friend’s sister. He’d looked the Hero of Tython in the eye and promised to protect Jurr from even himself.
Jurr waited, sensing a trickle of unease snake between them. Kadu’s gaze was intense, like whatever weighed on his mind might shred the fabric of reality if he didn’t keep it at bay. It frightened and excited her. Jurr wanted to know what came next while he stared at her with so many conflicting emotions. Her pulse raced through veins that felt too small, skin tingling where their arms held magnetic bodies at bay. It was the closest Jurr had ever come to being intimate with a man, and the thought of Kadu in that light made her shiver. She stamped down those thoughts before they could take root and disappoint her again.
Kadu’s fingers followed Jurr’s ear lobe, then slipped behind her neck. The warmth encouraged a sigh that she managed to keep to herself. He let out a shaky breath, then repeated her name. “Would you forgive me if I kissed you?”
Jurr blinked, head tilting back to expand her view of him. Surely she’d misunderstood, or perhaps it was an inside joke that she’d forgotten during her last memory reset. She started to tease back, or maybe explain that she didn’t know what he meant, but stopped. There was no mirth in his tone. What if— “You want a kiss,” Jurr asked after a careful pause. “From me?”
“It’s all I can think about,” the Cathar admitted sheepishly, but he didn’t move away. “I can content myself with what we have now if that is your wish, but I can’t pretend that I don’t want more.”
Hearing her wishes voiced by Kadu had struck Jurr dumb. A million questions flitted through her mind, but one voice rang clear. A core memory surfaced, Trev’s acne covered face serious in the light of the artificial garden where they met as children. Always ask yourself if it’s dangerous, Jurr. Can this hurt you?
Jurr never understood why that fragment survived all the resets, but her big brother’s advice had saved her from many hardships. The answer to Trev’s question was yes, so much. If Kadu let her in, then turned her away later...Jurr wasn’t sure she’d survive it.
“What if—” Jurr began, then licked her lips again. A strangled sound escaped Kadu’s throat, the pressure on their joined arms increasing fractionally before he settled back again. Jurr swallowed and asked the question that had weighed on her mind for several weeks. “What if it’s only our bond making you feel this way?”
Kadu’s heart sank into his stomach. A part of him was proud that Jurr approached his request with a healthy dose of cynicism, but the romantic in him had hoped that she’d melt into his embrace. Conceding, Kadu steadied his voice. “You could be right.”
Jurr looked away, but Kadu tugged her chin back around. “It’s given me access to the purity of your soul, Mri’ka. Let me see into the light that drives everything you do. You’re been given every reason to turn bitter and cold, but have stayed compassionate and warm. There is nothing that I don’t adore about you.”
Throat tight, Jurr gave a stiff, muted nod. Kadu’s words rang in her ears, jumbling together and reforming over and over. She felt the sincerity through their bond and sank into the warm glow that chased away the shadows of her night.
Kadu closed the scant space between them to brush a chaste kiss across Jurr's lips. He couldn't risk her changing her mind, not when he was so close. Kadu swallowed Jurr's gasp, keeping his fingers loose so that she could pull away. His skin flushed several degrees hotter, body awakening with frightening intensity. Every point of contact between them felt magnified until Kadu could no longer tell where he ended and Jurr began. Golden light flared in mind, catapulting their bond into a new level of intimacy that bordered on painful.
Colors danced behind Jurr’s eyes, breath mingling until she wasn't sure who it belonged to. The light pressure against her lips lasted only seconds, but the moment was imprinted on her for life. Or it would be once she added it to her backup database. Kadu’s mind touched Jurr's briefly, but it was enough to expand her senses into something otherworldly.
Grudgingly, Kadu withdrew and dragged in a shaking breath. Every instinct demanded that he pin Jurr to the mattress and explore her mouth more thoroughly, but the timing was wrong. Small steps, one centimeter at a time or he'd ruin when they’d built so far. He should push her away, perhaps scare Jurr into never wanting to see him again but Kadu didn’t have the strength. He was damned to turn his back on a lifetime of achievements within the Order. The eventuality of choice had become inevitable, and Kadu already knew which path he’d take.
Jurr couldn't catch her breath. With her eye closed, Jurr's system cranked up the detail from her other systems. Kadu's warm breath washed across her face, quick and jagged. His heart thumped beneath her hand, musky scent filling Jurr with images of sunsets on the beach. He was everything essential in her life.
“Am—” Kadu cleared his throat and Jurr opened her eye. He flashed a crooked grin and steadied his voice. “Am I forgiven?”
“For what?” Jurr asked, forehead scrunched in confusion. Kadu smoothed it away with his thumb before tracing his fingers along her cheek, down her jaw, and finally settling on her lips. “Oh, that.” A nervous, high pitched sound escaped around his finger, one that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Jurr put the back of her hand to her mouth, eye wide in astonishment at sounds she’d never made before.
Kadu couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. It had been a crystal bell of pure joy, one that he’d caused. Pride swelled in his chest until Jurr’s hand lowered slowly. In place of overwhelming happiness from before, cascaded disbelief and fear. Kadu moved away, preparing for the panic that dogged the heels of such an intense experience.
Pushing down his euphoria, Kadu tweaked the sting that connected them through the Force. Jurr’s emotions tumbled around, shifting more rapidly than Kadu could follow. He’d expected the fear to come the moment their lips touched, but she’d been—relieved. Now…
Kadu moved slowly, propping on one elbow so that he could look down at Jurr. “If I upset you—”
Jurr gave a sharp snap of her head. “It’s not that…” she trailed off, fumbling for the right words. The conversation had become nothing more than choppy words and incomplete sentences since Kadu had woken to Jurr’s fingers tracing the lines in his fur. She wanted to unburden herself, but she felt so...confused.
Kadu’s hand hovered over Jurr’s hip. She felt the brush of his mind and tried to relax enough to grant him access. Maybe he could pluck it from her thoughts, or whatever he read while rooting around in her head. Sensing that it was safe, his hand settled on the blanket that covered her legs. She tried to imagine all the ways that this could go wrong. What if she forgot him? Would Kadu have the patience to spend months wooing her again? If Jurr lashed out in a moment of confusion, would he run away?
An inner scoff rang in the back of Jurr’s mind. Kadu hadn’t wooed her, he was simply too polite to tell her no. Or maybe he was lonely too. If someone else came along, wouldn’t he lose interest in a woman who might not remember his name tomorrow? Each scenario rolled over Jurr, pushing old doubts higher until they threatened to smother her.
Tears gathered in the corner of Jurr’s eye, but she couldn’t look away from Kadu. She needed to see his reaction, that was the one thing she was good at, taking cues from others' expressions. “What if—”
“No.” The abrupt answer startled Jurr to silence. It carried with it a note of authority and something akin to anger. Jurr shook her head, unsure how to respond until Kadu’s thumb brushed the moisture from her cheek. “That won’t happen.”
“You can’t know that,” Jurr countered, her voice pitching into hysteria.
Kadu moved closer so that the only thing separating them was a few inches of blanket. He’d made his choice months ago. She was the only woman who could ever hold his heart. “I can,” he answered simply. Cathar mated for life, but Jurr wasn’t ready for that type of commitment yet. He could sense the shivers of doubt taking root in her heart already.
When Jurr tried to argue, Kadu hushed her with a tender smile. “I’m certain, Jurr.”
They stared at each other for a long time, Kadu gently coaxing Jurr closer to the truth while she came up with every reason that he was wrong. It wasn’t communication so much as mingled feelings traded back and forth. Eventually, Kadu chuckled with the pent up strain of a circular battle. “You’re going to have to trust me.”
Trust was the only thing that Jurr held close to her chest. Trev had warned her time and time again not to trust too easily, and she’d done that. Jurr was cynical, closed off from everyone. Now, Kadu wanted that rare commodity for the price of his word that he wouldn’t abandon her heart to the cold corners of her mind.
“It’s okay,” Kadu whispered, tucking hair behind Jurr’s ear. “I’m not going anywhere. Take whatever time you need.”
Calm rolled through Jurr, starting in her extremities and turning inward until there was no doubt left that what she’d done with Kadu had been the right thing. It might hurt later, but for now, it felt nice to be wanted. “Okay,” she decided almost before realizing it. If Kadu wanted her trust, then Jurr was willing to give it. But, only to him. He’d kept her alive and stayed by her side through two memory wipes already. Kadu had earned that much, and Jurr knew that he’d never push her into anything she wasn’t ready for.
“Okay?” Kadu asked, hope breathing new life into his voice. His hand slid from Jurr’s hip, skipped across her waist, and settled on the muscle of her bicep.
Chills raised on Jurr’s skin where Kadu’s thumb traced circles over her sleeve. She forced a shy smile, attention focused on his lips. “I trust you.” A grin split the frown he’d worn before, displaying a row of sharp teeth. Jurr shivered and met his gaze. “Would you kiss me again?”
Acceptance, total, and unconditional. They’d crossed a line that Kadu would ponder later. For the moment, he wanted nothing more than to feel Jurr’s soft lips on his. The consequences could wait until morning.
Path chosen, Kadu cradled Jurr’s cheek and leaned forward. “It would be my deepest pleasure.”
Day One (Balic/Elara) • Day Two (Fynta/Jorgan) • Day Three (Theron/Zolah/Vector) • Day Four (Fynta/Jorgan) • Day Five (Ma’at & her sons) • Day Six (Kadu/Jurr)
Okay so this one is NOT a micro fic, or even a drabble. I offered to write a full length one shot of Ahuska and Fynta getting into shenanigans and this happened. It took me three weeks, including scrapping a previous idea that I was already 2k words into, but I love it when these two team up so it was TOTALLY worth it. @dingoat I hope you approve. If not, lie to me! haha
Prompt: Rescue
Word Count: 3668
Fynta flopped into the captain's chair where her holo droned and hit the accept key. “Go for Wolfe.” She had the Thunderclap to herself for at least six hours while the rest of the crew suffered through the annual sexual harassment seminar. Jorgan was still annoyed that Fynta had managed to schedule her followup appointment at the same time. Cybernetic legs were fickle things, after all, have to get that calibration just right.
“Fynta?” Ahuska’s furry face filled the holo, head cocked in that wolfish way that made Fynta grin.
“If it isn’t my favorite Bothan Mando.” Fynta leaned back in her seat and munched on some of Cormac’s secret crisps. The silly man thought that he could hide them somewhere she couldn’t find. Eating those treats would be an important lesson in sharing for her large friend.
Ahuska didn’t respond with the normal banter, which made Fynta put the crisp she’d fished out back in the bag. “Everything alright?”
With ears pinned back, Ahuska shook her head. “I need a favor. Are you busy?”
Fynta’s answer was too quick, but she didn’t care. Maybe she could find a reason to miss her appointment too. Aric would be furious. “Nothing that won’t wait. What can I do for you?”
Not even a smirk, shab, whatever Ahuska needed must be serious. “Hopefully, help me rescue some POWs.”
Fynta’s brow lifted, scalp prickling in that familiar way that warned of a trap. She set the bag of crisps down and leaned forward. “Imperial?” She’d worked with the Bothan on several rescue attempts, but they’d all been animal related. Fynta was only prepared to go so far, and freeing Imperials from custody crossed that line.
“Republic,” Ahuska answered.
Fynta’s datapad appeared without her making the conscious choice to grab it. She wiped one hand on her pant leg. “You’ve got my attention, where are they?”
It took a few seconds of Fynta activating the navicomp and starting algorithms to realize that Ahuska hadn’t responded. She looked up to find the other woman with her lips pursed, an odd expression for a Bothan. “Coruscant.”
Fynta blinked, then let out a huff of laughter. “Republic POWs. On Coruscant?” She set the datapad down. “Ahuska, that’s headquarters, I don’t see how--”
“They are being sold on the black market tonight,” Ahuska interrupted. Fynta blinked again and must have looked as baffled as she felt. Ahuska’s lips pulled back to show teeth that would have impressed Aric. “Retired akk hounds. Too old for military service anymore.”
“Retired military animals are adopted out. Not sold.” Usually to equally retired military personnel or facilities who used them as service animals for rehabilitation.
Ahuska looked at the ceiling and growled. Fynta had never seen the woman so frustrated. Blowing out a long breath, Ahuska started again. “Only half, there are six who are being smuggled to a private meeting. Their paperwork will be lost and those creatures who have served you so loyally will be sold to fighting guilds and murdered for the entertainment of the depraved.”
Fynta wanted to bite back that those things wouldn’t happen in the hallowed walls of her brotherhood, but she knew better. Good men and women seldom joined the armed forces, she was proof enough of that. Every member of her squad had some blight in their past. Besides, Ahuska was a smart woman, she’d have done her homework and that was all Fynta needed to attest to the validity of her claim. “What do you need me to do?”
An hour later, Fynta waited at the Coruscant Spacestation for a Mandalorian who’d already been on final approach when she called. Fynta was touched that Ahuska felt so strongly enough in their friendship that she’d come to her for aid, then decided that the woman probably would have attempted the rescue on her own and almost laughed.
Spotting someone of Ahuska’s unique countenance was simple enough, though unnecessary. The crowd naturally parted for anyone wearing armor, be it Mandalorian or Republic. Fynta signaled the Bothan and started walking before Ahuska caught up. Neither spoke until they’d cleared the lift to the surface.
Ahuska removed her helmet, tan muzzle tipped all the way back with nose pointing at the sky. “So this is the Republic’s capital?” Fynta nodded, letting her unlikely friend soak it in. “It’s big.”
Snorting a laugh, Fynta directed Ahuska towards the cab station and typed in her access code. Once they were inside, she shut the security screen and switched off the surveillance. A message appeared that she’d be charged a privacy fine and Fynta accepted.
“Alright, there are two ways that we could play this. You’ve got the coordinates?” Ahuska nodded. “Good. I either walk you into that room as a prisoner bound for the black market because word travels, or we go in as potential buyers. The choice is yours.” Fynta left unsaid that she had MPs on speed dial. Regardless of how the meeting went, those soldiers wouldn’t be wearing Republic uniforms much longer.
Ahuska considered the options, then shook her head. “Potential buyer. I don’t want to risk blowing it if I can’t hold onto the ruse.”
“Good thing I brought these.” Fynta held up a badge patch with a grin. It would cover her Havoc insignia, blending flawlessly into the surrounding paint. Before Ahuska could ask what it was, Fynta peeled off the backing and arranged it over her armor. There was another large enough to hide both rank and name for her left shoulder. “There, now I’m just another Mando with no sense of style.” If Fynta ever rotated out of the military, her armor would get a fresh coat of paint.
Ahuska picked at it with an innocent curiosity. “Those are handy.”
Fynta flipped her helmet over in her hands before sliding it on. “I’ve got all kinds of fun tricks. Maybe I’ll show you one day.”
The overhead light flipped on to warn the women that they’d arrive at their destination in a few minutes. Ahuska slipped her helmet on and tapped her weapons. “How do we get past the guards?”
“Promise not to shoot anyone?” The Bothan paused half out of the cab, faceplate angled in Fynta’s direction. Fynta chuckled at what she imagined was a look of outrage Ahuska’s face and gave her a shove so that she could exit too. “It’s a military barracks, not a prison. We’ll take a back entrance and you don’t have to worry about the rest.” Though willing to help a friend, Fynta wasn’t stupid enough to allow a Mandalorian access to privileged information like recruit numbers or the state of Republic soldiers. Coruscant had already been infiltrated once, the next wouldn’t be on Fynta’s head.
“Those coordinates are on a loading dock for supply drops,” Fynta continued, walking ahead of Ahuska and typing in her access code to the back entrance. “Automated and away from anything important.”
Fynta swaggered down the seldom used hallway while droids ambled around, performing tasks too menial for sentient beings. It was the perfect place to set up a secret meeting. Easy access and quick escape route. The droids didn’t care who came or went so long as it didn’t impede their work. Clever.
The door to landing bay F-3 slid open and Fynta cleared the coordinates that Ahuska provided from her HUD. Unconsciously, her hand went to the Verpine at her hip. She’d outfitted it with stun rounds used for training purposes after learning who they would face. It made her weapon heavier, causing an unfamiliar shift in the holster with each step.
A large space opened at the end of a short hall. Several freighters were already docked, their pilots milling in an attached mess hall off to the side and catching up on messages while refueling and resupplying for the next run. Fynta wondered how many of them were indentured smugglers. Fynta paused to let a loader droid pass. It trundled over to add its burden to a stack of cargo set to be transferred to the quartermaster's office.
Ahuska touched Fynta’s shoulder, her helmet tipped to the side in the same way that Aric did when his ears picked up something hers couldn’t. Fynta waited for Ahuska to get her bearings, then gave up the lead when she set off like a bloodhound.
Five men stood in the back of the bay, looking suspicious in their attempts to be inconspicuous. Helmets were scattered about and more than one was covered in a thin, sheen of sweat. They’d either just come from maneuvers or… “Fierfek.”
Fynta tried to grab Ahuska’s arm before the men spotted them, but she’d let too much space open between them. The captain, a human male in his forties with streaks of grey invading his once black hair, waved. “About time. Thought you’d flaked out on us.”
Drugs, Fynta thought. There was no denying the signs of withdrawal now that she was closer. Shab, these men must be in deep to risk a handoff right under command’s nose. “Ahuska, do you know what they expected for payment?” Fynta asked over a private line.
“Oh.” That word was confirmation enough. Fynta had neglected to plan for this part, expecting to face fit soldiers on alert for scams, people she could...negotiate with. Junkies were less predictable and a lot more dangerous.
Beskar, don’t fail me now.
Fynta added an extra swing to her hips, hoping to buy time to think while they appreciated her custom fit armor. “Would I do that to you?” She asked, for once appreciating the husky sound that the filters added to her voice.
Chuckles carried through the circle as more of the men pushed off their perches. “You’re not our normal client,” a Rodian said, circling behind them. “Where’s Wreck?”
Fynta’s pity slipped at the mention of a regular client. How many hounds had these shabuir sentenced to death? “Where do you think?” She asked, offering as little information as possible with the hope that they would fill in the gaps. A handy trick for soothsayers, spies, and one stupid major who’d gotten in over her head.
The Rodian snorted. “Bastard’s probably in jail.”
“Where’s the stuff?” A Ratattaki asked, his voice unsteady and eyes darting around the room. Fynta would need to keep an eye on that one. Instead of answering, she leveled the featureless visor on the shaky soldier. Mandalorians rarely had to speak their threats, that distinctive shape and silence did it for them.
The man whimpered, hands wringing, then one dropped to his side before folding trembling arms around himself. “Come on. I need a pickup.” Fynta eased closer, ready to pounce if he became hostile.
Stims.
Fynta suddenly understood. These were front line soldiers hooked on adrenals. They must have been using for a long time to be this bad off. The Captain stepped between Fynta and the Rattataki. “Don't mind him. Been awake for nearly thirty-six hours. He’s not wrong, though. We’re on a schedule, due to ship out for Balmorra at 0600. Have you got the stuff or not?”
Fynta cursed again, silently this time. The men’s careers that she’d been prepared to end for their inhumane treatment of military animals weren’t in any better condition themselves. Adrenals were a problem in all branches, giving men and women the edge they needed to stay alive after days without sleep. War didn’t care if you were sick or exhausted, it forged on and crushed anyone who didn’t have the stomach to dig in.
Hardening herself to their plight, Fynta folded her arms. “You know the drill, animals first.” She’d been involved in enough handoffs in her younger days to understand the flow. No payment without proof of service. It was the law of the universe.
“Of course,” the captain said with a grand gesture revealed the fact that he’d removed his name plate. Fynta and Ahuska followed the man towards four crates. The akks inside batted at each other through the bars or dozed, used to this form of transportation on troop carriers. They had no idea how close they’d come to being sacrificed for a few mens’ weaknesses.
“Check them,” Fynta called with a jerk of her head. Ahuska walked calmly around each cage, though Fynta could tell the Bothan would rather release them now and let the Force sort it out. She knelt by each, checking feet and teeth, running her hands along their stomach and sides to ensure they weren’t too thin or injured. Fynta realized that Ahuska’s expertise with animal health looked alarmingly like a buyer checking the product.
Finally, Ahuska stood with a nod, and Fynta released the breath she’d held. Now for the hard part. “Ahuska, get your ship here.” Years of practice allowed Fynta to switch between private comms and external speakers without giving away that she was doing so.
Turning to the captain, Fynta tipped her helmet and touched two fingers to it. She should have planned this better. “Once they’re loaded, I’ll have my crew offload the stims,” she answered in a loud enough voice that it echoed around them. “Three crates, yeah?”
It was a shot in the dark, aim low and let the soldiers think that Fynta was trying to swindle them to take their attention off the fact that she had no idea what the arrangement was. Fynta had been out of the game for a while, but she remembered military-grade adrenals weren’t cheap.
All humor faded from the captain’s face. “Who are you?”
It was worth a shot. Snapping her fingers, Fynta ordered one of the droids to secure the cargo as if she hadn’t heard. She switched back to her internal comm. “Ahuska, how close are your people?”
“Two minutes,” she answered, edging back to put herself even with Fynta. The mood had changed in the space of a heartbeat. Whatever Fynta’s miscalculation had been, she’d blown their cover.
“Not sure we’ve got that long,” Fynta replied, cocking one hip out and letting her free hand settle on the grip of her blaster. She’d need to account for the heavier weight when she drew instead of moving on instinct.
The captain’s eyes flicked to the Verpine on Fynta’s hip and he smirked. “Boys, I think we’ve found a couple of Imp spies.” The men reacted as expected of soldiers. Each had his weapon raised in a second, on point and waiting for the command to engage. Even the shaky Rattataki looked steady with a rifle in his hands.
“You’re going to have to trust me,” Fynta whispered to Ahuska. “Don’t shoot them.”
Ahuska didn’t answer, but Fynta could see her fingers flexing in the wraparound cameras of her helmet. She’d planned to arrest the men after Ahuska left with the dogs to save face but luring the men into the hall where their numbers no longer mattered didn’t look likely.
Five soldiers, four stuns. Fynta realized that everyone who complained for years about her lousy planning skills might be onto something. Raising her hands, Fynta gave ground when the Captain swaggered forward. He was invincible with the weight of his squad behind him, but they didn’t know that Fynta was wearing beskar. None looked to be packing armor piercing rounds, so while it would hurt, being shot shouldn’t kill her.
Aric’s going to kill me if they don’t, Fynta thought. Maybe she should have gone to that seminar after all.
When the captain closed the last few feet, Fynta snapped her head forward. Blood splattered her faceplate, shading her world in red as the man dropped. She must have hit him in just the right spot because he didn’t try to catch himself. Nor did he attempt to get back up.
A bolt pinged off Fynta’s shoulder pauldron, wrenching it backward. Ahuska barreled into the man closest to her, taking out his legs and possibly adding a concussion with the force of her punch, but she didn’t shoot. Fynta’s verpine was in hand even though she didn’t remember drawing it. A stun charge lept from her barrel with less kick than normal round and flew wide.
Cursing, Fynta ducked behind a crate and sighted up again. It could be the adrenals still in their system or their misplaced trust in superior numbers, but none of the men went for cover. Fynta’s next two shots dropped their targets, but she couldn’t get a lead on the last.
“Here,” Ahuska called. Fynta didn’t hesitate to slide her blaster across the gap. The Bothan popped up and fired, then all went quiet.
Fynta counted to ten before peering over her shelter. “That all of them?”
“I think so.” Ahuska stood, and when no one shot at her, Fynta did the same.
Bodies littered the floor, one groaning while the captain lay unconscious. Ahuska held Fynta’s Verpine out without looking at her. “Nicely balanced. Custom?”
“Yeah.” Fynta accepted the weapon and jammed it into her holster, answering absently because she had no idea how she was going to explain this mess. “Aric made it for me.”
“That’s sweet.” Ahuska moved to check the dogs, then signaled her people. “They’re making the approach.”
Fynta sighed and removed her helmet, plan forming even as the words left her lips. “I know that you want to take these guys with you, but that’s not going to work.” Ahuska stood with a slowness that warned Fynta the Bothan wouldn’t hesitate to fight her too. Anything to save those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. Fynta held up a finger. “Now, hold on. We’re inside a Republic Military installation. Sensors would have registered blaster fire. I’ve got to report this now.”
Ahuska removed her helmet, eyes narrowed as she squatted beside one of the cages. He was a large, black scaled male with a goofy grin. She let him sniff her hand, then reached through the bars to scratch beneath his chin. “What’s going to happen to them?”
“They’ll be shown the respect they deserve and given to disabled vets as service animals.” Fynta joined Ahuska, one hand on the Bothan’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure that these guys live out the rest of their lives as pampered pets.” It was the least she could do to make up for such an ugly blight on her military’s reputation.
Ahuska sighed and propped her forehead against the bars. “Guess they’ve been in captivity too long to be released anyway.” A long, pink tongue slithered between the bars to lather Ahuska’s face. Fynta backed away while the Bothan laughed.
Scrubbing the back of her hand across her cheek, Ahuska pinned Fynta with bright, blue eyes. Damn, she bet Crow had a hell of a time telling her no. “Promise me that you’ll keep track of them. I want proof that they are safe. All of them.”
Fynta considered it, then decided that it was well within the realm of her capabilities. She knew a few people who owed her favors. “You have my word.”
The sound of running boots reached them a heartbeat before Crow rounded the corner. Fynta waved, then gave Ahuska a playful shove. “Go on. I’ve got to call this in now or it’ll look suspicious. You’d best not be here when the MPs arrive.”
With a final, forlorn look at what she’d come to save, Ahuska puffed out the air through her lips and turned to join her husband. “Couldn’t have done this without you” Fynta called in a teasing tone. In truth, Ahuska had dragged an ugly truth into the light. Fynta planned to make sure that it stopped here.
Ahuska waved as she trotted to meet Crow. A brief conversation followed, punctuated by gestures towards the akk dogs until Ahuska grabbed his pauldron and hauled him away. Fynta smirked, then turned back to the dogs. All were awake now, standing at attention and ready to work. They’d been roused by the sound and smell of blaster fire. All but one.
The big, black male yawned, scaly tail wagging and head tipped to one side as if taunting Fynta over her handling of his rescue. There was an intelligence in those eyes that reminded her that these guys were special. She couldn’t remember all of the details but knew it involved the Force. Maybe they hadn’t been completely unaware. Their lack of phonetic speech made it easy to think of akk hounds as just another dumb animal until they looked you in the eye.
Turning away, Fynta activated her comm and gave her military credentials to report the theft, altercation, and coordinates. By the time the MPs arrived, she had everyone’s hands secured and most of them were awake, if not fully aware. Fynta had uncovered her name and squad insignia, eliciting bleary apologies from the soldiers lucid enough to figure out how deep of osik they were in. Her only regret was that the captain still hadn’t come around. She’d like to give him a stern lecture about the handling of his squad.
Fynta watched specialists check the dogs before loading their crates on hover lifts. The black male coughed, Fytna supposed it was supposed to be a bark, and stared at her like he expected a reply. “Cheeky mutt,” she muttered. A thought struck her when he grinned back, tongue lolling to the side.
Stepping closer, Fynta examined the male. “You still look pretty fit, interested in working a little longer.” Another cough followed by an attempted lick. Fynta jumped back, eyes narrowed and unsure if that had been an intentional jab or excitement.
With a not so polite gesture at the akk, Fynta dialed a Jedi whom she’d had only a few interactions with but knew to be a good man. Kadu had been in the market for a companion for his wife, a trustworthy service animal that could watch over her when he couldn’t, but wouldn’t insult her tenuous grasp on independence. The Cathar’s face filled Fynta’s holo and she grinned. “I’ve found someone I think you should meet.”
I HC that Elara has a sophisticated pallet but is a total wimp when it comes to spicy foods.
Prompt: Kitchen
Word Count: 423
Cormac shook the pan, inhaling the heavenly smells of a home cooked meal. He had four days of leave with Elara. Four days with the comms off and no one the wiser about where they were. Balic had considered purchasing a place of their own, but it would be too easy to find them. He liked having the ability to fall off the map with his wife.
“That smells wonderful,” Elara called from the door. She dropped a bag that hopefully contained some sort of alcohol on the small island. “What is it?”
“One of Fynta’s recipes.” Cormac grinned over his shoulder while poking at a couple of stubborn vegetables.
Elara grimaced as she unloaded a bottle of white wine and another of something harder for him. “Then you don’t expect to have dinner with your wife this evening?” There was a playful note in the reminder that she hated spicy food.
Cormac leaned over to kiss the top of his wife's head. “I left most of that out. It’s no longer a Mandalorian dish. Completely Elara friendly.”
“Are you having a go at me?” Elara asked with a light backhand to his ribs. Cormac grunted from the surprise strike and laughed.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” Balic shook the pan again, lamenting its lack of spices but preferring an enjoyable evening.
Elara popped his ass, earning another startled yelp. “Someone’s feisty today,” Cormac teased, wiggling his rump in invitation for more.
Pale grey eyes rolled, but Elara laughed as she hopped onto the counter beside Balic. “My attempts at distracting you are failing, I fear. On to plan B.”
There was a method to their flirting. Cormac would say something witty, maybe make a subtly veiled comment about what he wanted to do, and Elara would respond with acceptance or a gentle rebuff. Her instigating was refreshing.
Setting the cooking utensils aside, Cormac slid the pan off the eye and turned off the flame. “No, no. I could be distracted.” He stepped between Elara's parted knees and settled both hands on her thighs. “Did you have something in mind?”
With Elara perched on the counter, her new position negated the height difference that so often caused them trouble. Leaning forward, she wrapped delicate hands around the back of Balic's neck and tugged him into a passionate kiss. When Elara released him, it was to offer a peek at the vixen she kept stuffed down.
Cormac let out a long breath, losing himself in the heat of Elara's gaze. “I’m definitely distracted now.”
