Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PRESENT

Twenty-two years ago, Sage Harper’s mother died in childbirth. The woman was young, about the same age as her daughter now, but that didn’t change the many dreams she wished to achieve. What was more unfortunate, though, was that Mrs. Harper never knew that two Jedi would find her little village in the jungle that belonged to her people. They came quietly, a Twilek female with blue skin and a Kiffar male with yellow face tattoos rimming his under eyes. Despite the skepticism surrounding the Jedi’s right to separate families as soon as they were created, Sage’s village did not put up much of a fight at their presence. Her father handed her over quite calmly, hoping she could go on to become much greater than everyone else there. He did not want to deny this opportunity, for he envisioned a wonderful journey ahead that his young girl would experience in good hands.

Thus, it can be said that the Harper family was full of dreamers. Thinkers. Believers. Sometimes, though, life was not a path. It was a prison. One that Sage was convinced she would never escape from for as long as she remained alive.

“Get fuckin’ moving. You’re in my way.”

Sage flinched when a large, burly man shoved her to the side and shuffled past her. His footsteps seemed to rumble against the sidewalk from his weight, sending deep vibrations up her spine. She frowned and kept her head down, mumbling a quiet apology that he was too far away to hear now. Turning back toward the wall she was staring at, she was disappointed to discover that her eyes had not deceived her when she stumbled upon this block in the first place. A message was displayed on the cracked screen, supposedly damaged from a scuffle or disagreement between two crooks. She wouldn’t expect any less from this city. Rather than try to figure out the reason for the broken screen, though, her mind was focused on the lone image that glared at her stronger than any malicious facial expression.

No words went along with this message on the screen—just the famous Jedi Order crest with a red X slashing through it. It was one of the tamer forms of the propaganda Sage had observed over the past year, but it was still incredibly defeating. To know she was now just a shadow of the person she was meant to become was a punishment from the galaxy or whatever higher power controlled such a vast expanse. Closing her eyes, the padawan inhaled a deep breath and tried to recall her master’s voice. That comfortingly soft tone. The signature accent she heard so much of when she was stationed on Ryloth during the war. Everything came flooding back in a split second that was ruined when Sage’s mind returned to what it always did these days: the memory of her master’s body falling to the ground after being massacred by a shower of bullets neither of them could anticipate quickly enough. Still, she heard something—perhaps from her own imagination. After all, her master was long gone.

“Tell me something you learned today, Sage.”

Once upon a time, that was a question always asked. And Sage would always answer something new. If she was presented with this today, though, her master would only receive one word.

“Loss, Master Secura. Today, I learned loss.”

Sage wondered how Aayla would respond in return. She so desperately wanted to hear something—anything—that would fill this void in her heart. It had been a little over a year since the Republic fell and the Empire rose to take its place, but no amount of time could heal the wounds Order 66 inflicted. The whole war, in fact. From the moment Sage fought alongside her brethren during the first battle of Geonosis, she knew that she was in for the most difficult period of her life. That was quite the understatement, though. This wasn’t just a difficult period—it was the end of everything. And yet, it was all over while also just beginning again. The Jedi were gone. Any remaining survivors were to be hunted and slaughtered without mercy. It was only a matter of time before they found Sage and killed her, too. She lived every waking day with this belief, unable to scrape any layer of hope from her current situation.

“Staring at it isn’t gonna make it disappear,” a familiar voice spoke from behind her.

Sage didn’t turn around, already knowing who had approached—she felt this presence from a mile away, actually. Sighing, she fumbled with the latch of her knapsack and pulled out a heavy pouch of credits.

“Here,” she tossed it over her shoulder, “He didn’t give me any trouble.”

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll make you run my errands more often—as payment for your dues, of course.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant when I said I have to lay low,” Sage replied, this time shifting her body so she could face the closest thing she had to a friend now. An ally, perhaps.

“Just be grateful I didn’t take the job on Coruscant.”

“Pantora isn’t much better, Amaryllis. I counted at least ten Imperials—“

“Don’t call me that,” the smuggler snapped, already heading in the direction of their parked ship, “It’s Amara. Last fucking warning.”

“No, it’s not,” Sage disagreed as she picked up her gait to follow the long-legged woman ahead, “You’re Amaryllis Sol. Former padawan of Master Windu—“

Sage’s body instinctively pivoted when Amaryllis abruptly launched herself at her, attempting to pin her to the wall of the alleyway they were currently crossing. Realizing she missed, the smuggler simply grabbed Sage’s arm and yanked her forward with so much strength that both of them were startled but not surprised.

“Don’t start with this shit again,” Amaryllis hissed, “I left the Order a long fucking time ago. I’ve moved on. It’s time you did, too, if you wanna keep your head.”

They stared at each other in heaving silence with Sage’s round hazel eyes looking into the smuggler’s nearly black monolids. Their features were all quite different when observed, starting with Sage’s starkly shorter height compared to this abnormally tall woman standing before her. And while Amaryllis was pale and sharp, everything about her like a cold knife waiting to be wielded, Sage prided herself in the warmth her appearance seemed to exude. At least, according to Aayla. The Jedi master would always touch a gentle finger to Sage’s face, where her brown skin could be felt, before brushing a hand through the frizzy curls that always spilled out of her hooded cloak. Sage once believed that all her physical qualities were too homogenous, but Aayla always made her feel certain of her beauty. Some other people did, too, but Sage didn’t like to think about them. Or, rather, him.

But there was no him. There never was. And she needed to stop pretending otherwise.

“You can’t deny that part of your life no matter how long ago it was,” Sage whispered, earning a tighter grip on her forearm.

“I can, actually,” Amaryllis replied coldly, “And I have. You weren’t even supposed to know, but here we are. Now keep your mouth shut and get to the ship. I’ll be there by sundown.”

Sage cast her eyes up at the sky that was already turning orange from the rising moon on the distant horizon. With a soft exhale, she asked, “Where are you going? You said this was the last stop.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just wait for me at the ship.”

With that, the smuggler released Sage from her iron grip and sauntered away. Sage vaguely heard the familiar flicking of a lighter before smelling spice in its smoky form, something she just had to get used to if she planned on “sticking around.” That was the phrase Amaryllis used when she first found the extremely scared and nearly dead padawan on Felucia where she and her master had been on the day Order 66 was declared. The two strangers became a pair, and then that pair became…friendly. Most of the time. But despite their wildly obvious differences, Sage found more similarities between them with just the fact that they came from the same life. She didn’t know the details of Amaryllis’s past—especially as a Jedi or why she decided to leave the Order—but this was a shared experience that comforted the padawan. Especially in a time like now where she lost everyone she once knew.

Sage didn’t like to be considered superstitious (ironically), but she wholeheartedly believed that they were meant to cross paths that day. The Force worked in mysterious ways that she would never come close to completely understanding, but it brought them together when Sage needed her the most. That had to count for something, even though life seemed quite hopeless these days. But, of course, there was no room for developing deeper and vulnerable attachments. This was always something Sage needed to balance with her affection toward others. She never did finish her training, though.

“I told you to go back to the ship,” Amaryllis grumbled when Sage caught up to her in a few quick breaths.

“This is the way to the ship.”

“Yeah. The long way.”

Sage didn’t say anything to this, simply tugging her hood over her face while trying to tuck her curls in as much as possible. She didn’t appreciate this quality as much as before, worrying that it drew too much attention or took up too much space. These days, establishing a minimal presence in public was the best course of action. Amaryllis seemed to replicate this as well despite not needing to worry about the same situation, hunching her shoulders because of her height. Luckily, they didn’t stick out too much. The city was busy with so many different faces. They came to an abrupt halt when Amaryllis stuck her arm out and pointed in the general direction of where her ship could be found. Sage briefly wrinkled her nose, the expression so subtly changed that it was only a flicker of a reaction.

“You’re really secretive at times,” Sage observed calmly, “I won’t judge if you’re just getting a restock on your spice sticks. I noticed we’ve been running low…”

“What?” Amaryllis exclaimed, taking her cigarette out of her mouth with two nimble fingers, “I just bought them!”

“You’ve been using them pretty frequently…”

“Fuck—I’ll take care of that later. You need to get back to the ship.”

“If your meeting won’t take that long,” Sage glanced up at the darkening sky, “Then let me come with you.”

This time, it was the smuggler’s turn to wrinkle her nose. She did so more prominently and judgmentally than Sage, though, pairing this expression with a scowl that implicated her disposition.

“You’re so clingy,” Amaryllis exaggerated a shudder as if that was the worst quality one could have, “Makes my skin crawl.”

Sage frowned and cast her eyes down to the floor, where she could see her worn-out boots that hadn’t been replaced in a while. She wished she wasn’t so sensitive to people’s harmless remarks, but that was just a truth she couldn’t overcome in all her years of living. What was worse about hearing these kinds of things was feeling the emotions that corresponded with them, which definitely came naturally to Sage.

“I’d just rather not be alone,” the padawan said quietly.

Amaryllis rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue in disapproval. Watching the smuggler closely, Sage discerned she was thinking about what to do next—which meant she was considering bringing the padawan along. With a bothered sigh, Amaryllis nodded her chin toward the direction she needed to follow if she was to attend her meeting on time.

“Fine,” she conceded, “But you’re waiting outside. You can make friends with the guards or some shit.”

“The guards?” Sage asked curiously as the pair fell into step again.

“Uh-huh. Stop asking questions.”

This sounds like a pretty important client, Sage thought to herself. Her silence prolonged the more she got lost inside her own mind, just thinking about the present moment while also juggling the weight of the past. The people she passed and the noises she heard all jumbled together in a sensory nightmare that she could only calm with the breathing exercise her master taught her when she was a young girl. It wasn’t meant to do while walking or moving at all, but Sage found herself more mobile than stagnant in the recent year. Despite preferring a lifestyle where she could just let the world pass her by, she needed to keep up with how much everything had changed.

They approached a large estate just outside the city adorned with flowery trees that dropped petals to the ground so whimsically that Sage stopped and admired the scene. Amaryllis kept walking, supposedly recognized by the guards who immediately let her in. She told them to keep an eye on the distracted padawan, who was already placing a hand on one of the trees and closing her eyes to feel the vibrating evidence of a living heartbeat. Of course, this tree didn’t have a pulse in the same way humans like her did. But everything alive had some sort of soul that could be perceived and transcended into understanding. Sage couldn’t help but remember when Aayla first taught her this lesson in the gardens at the Temple.

As they reflected upon it, the master had asked her padawan, “What did you learn today, Sage?”

“Life, Master Secura. Today, I learned life.”

Sage wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but the wind began picking up as Pantora entered a chilling nighttime that immediately decreased the surrounding temperature. Her hood fell from her face, but she felt safe within the privacy of this fancy manor that she still didn’t know the owner of. Or why her ally was meeting with this person in the first place. Usually, the smuggler’s clients ranged from gangsters to criminals—two overlapping identities that did not mix well with this kind of place. Her mind was centered on calming itself, though, which was a state of being only provided through a moment alone with nature and its divine creations. But this all came crashing down when she felt a presence that sent her body into a frozen fright.

No, no, no—

“Harper?” A familiar voice asked.

It was almost too familiar, sending a chill down her spine. She didn’t move, making note of the knife in her jacket pocket that Amaryllis so generously lent to her (in exchange for a deep cleaning of her ship).

The voice drew closer. “Is that really you? What are you…How are you here?”

The padawan took her hand away from the tree and slowly turned her head, nearly closing her eyes when she laid eyes on the source of this question. The man standing before her looked just as he did the last time they saw each other, but that was a distant memory she failed to bury. Even though his armor looked different from its missing pauldron, he still sported that iconic teal blue color she remembered him choosing for customization. His thigh holsters on both sides were definitely new, though, and oddly fashionable when considering the options for such mechanisms of storage. But these little changes didn’t faze her as much as the way he was staring at her so intensely that she felt crushed by an invisible weight.

And she hated it. She hated that he still affected her like this, given all that they had been through. Given that his brothers—other clones—killed the only family she ever knew. Given that they weren’t supposed to be looking at each other like this. Given that this was all wrong, and that she shouldn’t have followed Amaryllis here. For once, she would have done well to just listen without any questions or curiosities.

“Easy, Harper…I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Sage looked down at herself, where she noticed she had curled her hand around the hilt of her knife without even realizing it. How he saw this through the darkness, she didn’t know, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of staying long enough to find out. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she extended her arm and wielded her small but effective weapon in a fighting stance that he had never seen directed at him. Until tonight, it seemed.

“Don’t come any closer,” she whispered in a tone much weaker than she would have preferred.

Pain flashed across her old friend’s face as he paused his step, letting his arms drop to his sides in apparent defeat. Sage pressed her lips together, keeping her eyes trained on him so that she wasn’t caught off guard like the last time she was in direct proximity to a clone. No surprises. None. She wasn’t distracted—not even by the brief flex of his fingers—but her heart was pounding in her chest so fast and hard that she felt a bit faint. Despite looking straight at him, she couldn’t see him anymore. She couldn’t hear the rest of the city in the distance. The only thing that was running through her mind at that moment was Felucia. Her grip on her knife suddenly loosened as her breathing picked up, stalling her senses into a vulnerable state that could have allowed him to strike her if he so dared. If that was what he was here for.

“You’re safe here. Trust me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Come on, Harper, you really think I’d hurt you?” He concluded this with a slow gesture toward his empty holsters, deliberating not making any sudden moves to avoid triggering her flight or fight.

Her lips twitched into a frown before she regained her composure. “I’m not taking any chances, Howzer.”

The captain’s eyes rounded a bit wider upon hearing his name on her tongue. He sucked in a breath, shaking his head once as if he couldn’t believe this encounter was truly real. Forgetting all about her once the war ended wasn’t easy, but running around and fighting against the Empire occupied most of his mind these days. But seeing her again—hearing her voice—unraveled all the effort he put into ensuring he set his priorities straight. He recognized the familiar, itching desire to ease her quivering figure, but he didn’t act on it. He never acted on it, despite knowing whenever she was afraid. There was once a time when he had her back like no other. Now, they were just a pair of strangers trying to bury the dead under a soil that only welcomed sacrifice.

A bright, feminine voice suddenly entered the mix—one that Sage recognized but couldn’t immediately pinpoint. “Is there a problem?”

The padawan whipped her head to the side, making eye contact with a Pantoran woman who was around the same height as her. She was smiling warmly, clearly unfazed by the weapon Sage was currently wielding at Howzer’s still body. Upon closer observation, Sage realized this new stranger wasn’t actually a stranger at all.

“No…” Sage shook her head and pocketed her knife, “I think I’m just in the wrong place. I’m sorry.”

She turned around as quickly as possible, deciding that it would be better to head to the ship earlier than she originally anticipated. Amaryllis had a lot of explaining to do, but that wasn’t Sage’s top priority at the moment. Her only train of thought could be centered on the need to escape from this nightmare, one that she was obviously meant to stumble upon. But why? Her life had already been ruined. It was becoming more difficult to trust in the Force when nothing seemed to be going right.

“Are you with Amara?” The woman asked, stopping Sage in her tracks, “She mentioned she had a friend waiting outside.”

Sage looked over her shoulder, immediately noticing that Howzer and the Pantoran were standing extremely close. Maybe this was unintentional, but she sensed a comfortable connection between the pair. How comfortable, she didn’t know. That wasn’t her business, anyway—none of this was her business. Coming here was a mistake—everything was a mistake—

“No,” Sage said quickly, “I mean, yes. Yes.”

The Pantoran stepped closer and extended her hand in a friendly greeting. “I’m Senator Chuchi. Riyo, if you’re okay with first names.”

“I know,” Sage replied, internally cursing herself for being so awkward, “I recognize you. I was…”

I was part of the Republic, too, she wanted to say. But she couldn’t.

Riyo tilted her head to the side when Sage trailed off before squeezing the padawan’s hand reassuringly. “I hope the captain didn’t frighten you. He surprised us all when he ran out of our meeting just now…”

Ignoring said captain’s burning stare, Sage dropped her hand from Riyo’s grasp and forced a smile that wasn’t nearly as sweet as hers. “That’s okay.”

She thought about saying something else, but just breathing was already difficult at this moment. Words weren’t forming like she wanted or intended, so she simply glanced up at Howzer in the distance before turning on her heel. Pulling her hood over her head with both hands, she let all the noises drown out so that the only torment left to face was the one inside of her head. She didn’t look back while Howzer was still there, watching her leave with a similar sense of overwhelmed confusion sinking his stomach into despair. But when she finally willed herself to turn around, all she saw was him and Riyo walking side by side toward her lavish house with their arms brushing against each other from their proximity.

Maybe the Order wasn’t the only thing Sage needed to move on from.

Chapter Text

PAST

Despite the excruciating humidity on Ryloth, Sage always felt cold when she returned to base. Logically, this could be attributed to the blasting ventilation system that refreshed her troops after the grueling battles they were lucky enough to survive. But there was no real explanation for how frigidly desolate everything seemed on the inside of all the action except for the emptiness of war. Even though she didn’t like the sweltering heat outside, she also couldn’t get comfortable in her own quarters. Her body shivered and her teeth chattered away no matter how many blankets she requested or layers she put on to ease this pestilence.

Remaining in her bed that was just a cot on the floor, wrapped up in her sheets almost comically, Sage lifted her hand with a brief wave that sent her door whooshing open. This revealed her captain on the other side of the entrance, who raised his eyebrows despite his lack of surprise. Of course, she sensed him before he even made his presence audibly known. There was no such thing as sneaking around when she was in charge, but she wasn’t one to enforce her authority when she constantly felt small around everyone else. Howzer looked at her curled figure from across the room, noticing that her eyes were closed even though she was wide awake. He didn’t take a step inside, as she hadn’t given him an invitation yet, but he spoke loud enough for them to enter a close conversation.

“You ready for the briefing?” He asked her in a lighthearted tone that he hoped she perceived as intended, “I can’t keep stalling forever.”

“No.”

Her voice was muffled from all the blankets that swallowed her figure. Howzer had made a joke a few weeks ago that the entire planet’s supply could be found in her room, to which she responded with a defensive frown that only made him laugh harder. She smiled at this memory, not realizing he caught this on her expression as soon as it appeared. Instead of asking what was so funny, though, he stayed on track with the matter at hand.

“We shouldn’t keep them waiting, Harper.”

She didn’t move a single inch despite replying, “Fine.”

He sighed, realizing tonight was going to be another one of those discussions. Taking a few tentative steps forward, given that he still wasn’t sure if being in her room was crossing a professional boundary, he stood over her and shifted his helmet in the crook of his elbow. Her eyes began fluttering from his proximity, but they remained closed even as he continued his persuasion to get her out of bed. Trying not to look at the curve of her lashes or the volume of her hair, he cleared his throat and said, “We might as well get this over with while they’re on the line.”

“Mhm.”

He crouched down on his haunches when she tried to turn away. “You still upset with me?”

“No.”

“Uh-huh…Are you gonna keep giving me one-word answers?”

She finally opened her eyes and looked up at him, blinking away the blurriness that distorted her vision for a moment. He held her stare, observing the green flecks in the brown that occupied most of her iris. It was the same shade of green as her lightsaber’s blade, which was a funny way of proving how mysteriously the galaxy worked. The captain noticed that the constantly fearful and shaky look in her eyes looked stronger at this moment, sending a pang of guilt toward his racing heart. She was technically an adult, but she was still young. She was also technically a Jedi, but she was still a padawan. Thus, she was stuck inside a strange in-between of not knowing what she was doing while also not being able to afford incompetency. He was aware of this struggle without her needing to express it aloud. What wasn’t so clear to him was that she thought of him the same way—that he was young, too. They all were.

“Yes,” she said.

But this time, her smile widened a bit as their gazes remained locked and unmoving. He smiled back, but only for one second that passed much quicker than both of them would have liked.

“I know I was a little hard on you before,” he acknowledged sternly before softening his tone, “But what happened today wasn’t your fault.”

Sitting up, Sage tightened her robes around her body so that they didn’t fall away inappropriately at his observing eye. Her smile faded—to his unconscious disappointment—as she tucked her knees into her chin and considered his words with a deepening silence. The room’s heater rattled in the background of this paused conversation, which was blasting so furiously that Howzer felt stuffy every time he entered this tiny space. But he made no mention of his own discomfort, ever.

“I made the wrong call,” she eventually replied, “Walked us right into a trap.”

“It already happened,” he said solemnly.

“That doesn’t make it okay—”

“I didn’t say it did.”

She frowned and turned her head away from him, unable to look him in the eye through the guilt that clouded her consciousness. He followed her movements so watchfully that she felt his stare like hot coals against her skin, making this entire situation all the more overwhelming. Despite sensing that he wanted her to meet his eyes, she could not. It was her fault that so many of his brothers—his best friends—were either dead or dying. Not one to blame misfortune on bad luck, she placed all of this burden on herself and her incapabilities. “Commander Harper” didn’t really have a nice ring to it, according to her own personal opinion, but it also didn’t prove valid in reality. She had never been trained for this—how could an eighteen-year-old girl know anything about leading an army fighting for freedom against an endless supply of battle droids?

The answer was simple. She couldn’t. And yet, her peers within a similar age range as her seemed to be doing fine. Take Anakin Skywalker, for example. He was only a year older than her, but he already retained a notorious reputation that often acknowledged his unorthodox victories. But still, winning was winning. And winning meant living, no matter the sacrifice that went into it.

“Have you been to the infirmary yet?” She asked him in a hushed voice.

So many bodies, she thought to herself as she bit her tongue, So many bodies—

“No,” he answered, “I just got out of my meeting with General Syndulla. You should have been there, too—“

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you…”

“You don’t sound convinced,” she scoffed quietly while shaking her head.

Howzer grimaced a bit, knowing Cham wasn’t completely trustful of the Jedi. The entire Republic, for that matter. Despite having set aside these differences after a few joint efforts to bring Ryloth closer to liberation, the freedom fighter didn’t see any value in Sage’s presence. She was like a child to him, definitely not mature enough to be considered a second-in-command during their campaigns. It wasn’t like she put in any effort to alleviate this tension and prove him wrong. Rather than scramble together a better image where the soldiers—Twi’leks and clones alike—could perceive her in a more reliable light, she retracted into a state of invisibility that forced her captain to take the lead. More often than not he did, but he couldn’t keep pushing the bounds of their ranks when she was specifically tasked to help free Ryloth at the Jedi Council’s wise decision-making. He wasn’t completely aware of the reasoning behind this, but he always wondered why they left her alone here while she was still a student. Didn’t masters and apprentices always come in pairs? This question didn’t bother him frequently enough to ask, but it bubbled in his mind every now and then when he noticed how lonely she seemed.

“You don’t exactly put yourself out there enough for him to form an actual opinion on whether or not he hates you,” the captain replied honestly.

Wrinkling her nose, she asked, “What does that even mean?”

He was about to respond when he remembered he—or rather, they—had somewhere to be. She glanced up at him nervously as he stood and said, “Look, if it were up to me, I’d let you stay here while I get my ass handed to me. But I think they would appreciate it if you at least made an appearance.”

“You said that last time,” she pointed out despite already feeling more eased than before. His presence had a strange way of achieving that.

“Was I wrong?”

“No…but—“ She sighed and put her head in her hands, smoothing her hair back with a dejected sigh, “I’m just not cut out for this, okay? This isn’t for me. Maybe it’s for you, but—“

“Hey,” he interrupted, taking a step closer, “Whether or not you think you can handle this doesn’t matter. All those men downstairs look to you, and then they look to me. That means both of us have a responsibility to uphold—you can’t just say you’re ‘out’ when things get hard. You’re in.”

She was silent for a moment before saying, “You always know how to give it to me straight, Captain.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a reassuring smile that she returned more genuinely than before. She truly couldn’t fathom how her life would be without his support. Even though the roles should technically be reversed, she found herself leaning against his strength when the war weakened her already diminished resolve. Sage Harper just wasn’t destined for destruction and corruption. Her mind lived in a dreamy fantasy that couldn’t exist for as long as the thirst for power plagued this galaxy. Howzer never entertained this notion, not because he wanted to scare her, but because he was the only person capable of telling her what she needed to hear. Such was the duty of a captain toward his commander, it seemed. They were a pair—in this together.

“On your feet,” he told her as he pulled her up with a sturdy hand wrapped around her forearm, “We’re really fucking late.”

She steadied herself once she stood, not even bothering to smooth her rumpled robes down before leaving her room. The captain walked just one step behind her like he always did, letting her take the lead until they reached the briefing room where the blue holograms of some council members were already waiting for them. From the look on their serious faces, they were displeased with the padawan’s common tardiness that couldn’t be excused this time around. Sage’s face immediately lit up when she spotted Aayla, forgetting all about the fact that she was in for an earful.

“Master Secura,” she said eagerly, “It’s really good to see you.”

The Twi’lek smiled warmly at her padawan and replied, “It’s good to see you, too, Sage.”

About to reply and ask how things have been faring for her master, Sage was startled when more voices entered the mix with less comfort than her sensitivity could handle. Her elders were in such a rush that they skipped their usual passive aggression and instead opened the briefing with the matter at hand. Sage was clearly not listening, but that wasn’t the only truth that bothered the Council. It was that she couldn’t even pretend to nod along, proving just how little she respected this conversation. They perceived this as a reflection of her incompetency but also her insubordination, both of which they expected her to rectify if she was to ever complete her training and achieve knighthood. The only person who understood this among these judgmental eyes was Aayla, who believed Sage needed a different lesson for an honorable ascension. The Twi’lek woman didn’t see an issue with her padawan’s straying interests. Her lack of independence, on the other hand…

“Um, I’m not sure,” Sage said when prompted to provide her ideas for their next infiltration, “But I know Howzer spoke to the General before. Maybe he has a plan.”

All faces turned toward the captain, who anticipated this turn of events. Though looked down upon by most, it was a common occurrence for the padawan to rely on his expertise in the field. Despite bearing a larger burden from this expectation, he personally believed that it made sense. Historically, the Jedi were nowhere near competent in military contexts. In the little time he had known Sage thus far, she told him brief stories of her training before the war even became a considered reality. She explored numerous planets with her master—who was now a general—and visited communities that experienced different levels of prosperity. The many cultures and lands she traveled through could not have prepared her for this bloody and never-ending battle they all had to face regardless of their past lives. Even though he knew she had to adapt rather than remain rooted in nostalgia, he was also aware of the fact that she couldn’t. Her mind simply refused this truth. So, he had to fill in the gaps that she left behind with her daydreams.

“General Syndulla’s forces still want to go ahead with the counter-attack,” Howzer replied smoothly, “But after today, I’m not sure if that’s possible.”

“And what was his response?” Aayla asked the captain despite keeping her eyes on her padawan who had gone quiet again.

“He’s adamant on trying, but that would mean more manpower from us. I just don’t know if we can spare…”

“We’ve sent all of our available reinforcements,” Master Windu interjected, “How are your casualties?”

Howzer pressed his lips into a grimace that Sage caught with a stabbing pain in her heart. “Not great, sir. The commander might know more about that.”

Sage’s eyes widened when everyone turned toward her, waiting for the same fluid continuation of the conversation the captain had displayed just before. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as quick on her feet. Her gaze darted around the room, passing Howzer a few times before she realized he wasn’t going to speak for her at this moment. Left to fend for herself, she said, “I think we should delay the counter-attack. They still need time to recover—“

“I don’t believe that was Master Windu’s question,” a pretentiously calm voice interrupted.

Sage didn’t need to glance in his direction to know this was Master Mundi speaking. The last time they were in a briefing like this, she stayed quiet until the very end when she blurted out, “We’re running out of supplies for the locals. What we have left might only last them a few more rotations…” This was met with, “Ah, so she speaks,” from Master Mundi himself, who was one of the more aggressive than passive members of the Council when it came to Sage’s military etiquette. It was safe to say that they severely disliked each other, which neither of them was afraid of showing—contrary to usual Jedi manners that maintained diplomacy and maturity. Sage scowled at him before averting her eyes, not wanting to see his smug expression any longer.

“What the commander means,” Howzer sighed, “Is that we just don’t have the men for a counter-attack. I don’t know how else to convince the general otherwise, though.”

“If he’s being difficult—“ Master Mundi began.

“He’s not being difficult. He just doesn’t want to miss any more chances…” Howzer clarified before realizing he interrupted the already irritated Jedi, “…Sir.”

“Well, it seems you’ve lost your momentum,” Master Mundi continued, sending a targeted glance toward Sage that everyone noticed, “So it may be unwise to persevere at the moment. Reconvene when a clearer opportunity presents itself.”

That doesn’t even make any sense, Sage thought to herself with furrowed eyebrows, He’s just saying shit to sound smart. He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about—

“Does the padawan have anything to add?” Master Mundi asked sharply, “Or can we consider this meeting adjourned?”

Sage met Howzer’s eyes from across the table and replied, “No, Master.”

“Very well. Captain?”

Howzer looked as if he was about to say something, but he hesitated and shook his head. “No, General. We’ll have an update by the next rotation.”

One by one, the holograms of the Council members who attended this awkward briefing disappeared until the room only consisted of Sage, Howzer, and Aayla. The padawan lit up like before when she first entered the room and noticed her master, immediately more invested in this budding conversation that hadn’t yet started. She opened her mouth to initiate the exchange she had being longing for, but Aayla turned toward the captain before the words could leave her mouth.

“Sage, my dear, do you mind giving me a moment with your captain?” The Jedi master requested kindly but firmly.

Faltering, she stared at Howzer in surprise before swallowing the disappointed lump in her throat. The captain watched her leave the briefing room at a slow pace that felt deliberate, which he confirmed when she glanced at them over her shoulder one last time. As the doors slid shut quietly but definitively, the Twi’lek said, “I see that she still hasn’t adjusted.”

“She’s doing fine. She just needs time.”

“You don’t always have to protect her, Captain. There are many lessons she needs to learn alone.”

Howzer stiffened and swept his eyes across the room before asking, “Is that why you sent her here? To finish her training…alone?”

“Is it our customs as Jedi that pique your interest?” Aayla replied, “Or are you simply concerned for her?”

He stayed silent at this, dropping his gaze down to the briefing table where he saw blue pixels darting around from its active state. His lips were pursed, indicating his discomfort with this conversation but also his true feelings regarding Sage’s assignment on Ryloth. Instead of prying further into his side of the story, though, Aayla crossed her arms over her chest and smiled warmly.

“She has a tendency to form strong attachments to those who are close to her,” Aayla explained as nostalgia crossed her soft eyes, “But the practice of letting go is more crucial than ever—especially in times like these. My master taught me the same. It’s now my duty to teach her.”

“But…I sense that she has grown fond of you,” the general continued when Howzer didn’t say anything, “Admires you, even.”

His eyes widened briefly, but he didn’t let much of his expression change elsewhere. Sure, it made sense they had developed some sort of professional affection for each other. Their lives depended on this trust. And in terms of admiration…he was used to it—and not in a pretentiously arrogant way. The local women here were more than flirtatious and sweet when it came to compliments and quality time. He wasn’t the only trooper who discovered this, which sparked rounds of “locker room talk” across the barracks that spanned this base. His leadership position motivated him not to humor or engage in those kinds of conversations, but this decision didn’t exempt him from actually experiencing those particular topics from time to time. Of course, he was so busy that these occasions were more than rare, but…

“That won’t become an issue,” he eventually told the general with a serious expression that pulled his eyebrows together and clenched his jaw in tight resolve.

She nodded, still smiling with an odd twinkle in her eyes that Howzer didn’t know what to make of. “Of course. I don’t doubt your professionalism, Captain.”

He hesitated but still decided to reply, “Do you doubt hers, then? Because she’s doing fine. She just needs time and…confidence.”

Aayla didn’t mask the surprise she felt from this response. Peering down at him through the hologram, she laughed softly under her breath before saying, “I have never doubted her, and I’m glad that you don’t either.”

Howzer wasn’t sure how to respond to this, reminding him that he didn’t particularly enjoy speaking with other Jedi. Nothing was ever straightforward when it came to these kinds of conversations. Having been sent to Ryloth at the beginning of the war without a commanding officer, he was always surrounded by more pragmatic people than whatever the Jedi liked to call themselves. It wasn’t that he had an issue with Sage’s master or anyone else within that circle, but there was always an invisible wall between Jedi and the rest of the galaxy. This barrier said loud and clear that those not gifted with the same powers simply didn’t understand what it meant to have them. Know your place, in other words. Fine by him. He had other priorities, anyway.

The conversation seemed to end there, but not before Aayla requested, “Please tell Sage that I am thinking of her, always.”

Why can’t you tell her yourself? Howzer wondered while replying, “I will.”

“Thank you. May the Force be with you.”

At that, the general’s hologram rippled away before the table shut off completely. Howzer exhaled once, wondering where Sage wandered off until he reached the infirmary where she could be found standing outside with her hand pressed against the glass window. She never liked going past those opened doors even though the wounded would have been happy to speak with her. Anything could comfort them at a time when their lives felt so fleeting and replaceable. This, she didn’t realize. Her state of concerned guilt was still clear to him as he approached her from the side, now wearing his helmet for no reason in particular. But every action had an underlying intention that Sage could feel at the tips of her tingling fingertips and the top of her buzzing scalp.

“Did she say anything?” Sage asked when he stood beside her and joined her in watching the busy back and forth inside the infirmary, “Master Secura, I mean.”

Not wanting to tell the padawan that her master was purposefully creating distance for the sake of a lesson in independence, Howzer simply shrugged. This earned him a sideways glance from Sage, who was difficult to lie to. Impossible, even. He knew this and still attempted it anyway, hoping this could slide for tonight. Of course, he shouldn’t have been so naive. Overly idealistic. But he was an optimist when he wasn’t a realist, so that was always an explanation for why he tried getting around her uncanny ability to read his mind.

“She’s just worried about you,” Howzer said while drawing his eyes away from Sage to look at all the bedridden men.

Some were asleep while others were conversing, but all were uncertain in terms of when they would recover. If they would ever be the same as they were before, even. The simplest instances of bad luck during wartime often changed everything—just that split second when one was caught in an unfortunate crossfire. There was no getting around that inevitability. Howzer only hoped that he lived long enough to evade such a destiny, but, if he didn’t…he would die trying.

“That’s not all,” Sage replied quietly, also watching the sight before them through the slightly foggy glass, “She’s disappointed in me.”

“She’s not,” he shook his head, “She knows this is hard for you. That’s why she’s worried.”

“Then why did she leave me here?” Sage breathed, her soft and pained voice weakening Howzer’s firm resolve. But he remembered the general’s words.

There are many lessons she needs to learn alone.

I don’t doubt your professionalism, Captain.

I sense she has grown fond of you—

Ripping his focus away from this nonsense, he cleared his throat and replied, “To be honest, Commander, I think you’d know the answer to that a lot better than me. All I was told was that you were assigned to finish your training here.”

“Uh-huh. Master Secura always said that this war was my great trial,” Sage said a little bitterly, “I just don’t understand why she’s not here with me, too. Not to mention that this is her home planet.”

“She doesn’t seem very attached to this place.”

“Because we’re not supposed to be attached to anything. Or else…we become dangerous.”

“You agree with that?” He asked to her surprise, casting a glance at her through his helmet.

She raised her chin a bit as she thought about this before meeting his gaze. Their bodies weren’t pointed toward each other until she pivoted and raised her arms toward his face, startling him into taking a step back. Following and maintaining their proximity, though, she carefully braced both hands on either side of his helmet. A silent pause passed between their racing hearts as voices clamored in the background, reminding them of the usual busyness this base experienced. And yet, they both felt as if nobody was around them. Howzer held his breath when Sage gently removed his helmet, holding the heavy object in her nimble hands while looking at him closely. He couldn’t control the slightly embarrassed purse of his lips, nor the erratic darting of his eyes that didn’t want to focus on her for some reason.

Forgetting that he had asked her a question just before, he was initially confused when she said, “I know that it’s true, but I don’t think I agree with it.”

“Yeah?” He rasped, unsure why his voice sounded so throaty and strained all of a sudden, “Why’s that?”

He nearly closed his eyes when she shifted his helmet into one hand and pushed her other through the wavy locks of his hair that had fallen toward his forehead. His particular style was unique among most troopers—something Sage recognized as soon as she laid eyes on him. She drew her hand back quickly, still feeling the soft linger of this contact dancing across her skin. From the look on his face, he probably did, too. She sensed his frustration, but it wasn’t toward her. Rather, it was toward himself for a reason she didn’t understand. She could only feel the complexity of his emotions the same way one would lie back against a grassy field and experience every ticklish sensation from this position. Contrary to the way regular people understood the Force, she couldn’t just effortlessly extract the words that crossed his mind. And that wasn’t something any good Jedi did, especially without consent.

If she did at this moment, though, she would only hear her master's words that he constantly repeated to himself. I don’t doubt your professionalism, Captain. It was just a fact that Sage was off limits to all the hunger and curiosities he buried deep inside of himself whenever she was around. He couldn’t spare any time finding her attractive or interesting or even anything along the lines of a platonic connection. They were coworkers in the least extreme form—comrades when considering their current situation. Allies. Commander and captain. There were plenty of other women around who were more than willing to quench his appetite whenever his hormones became an issue. So many options, and yet…

“Because I don’t think there’s anything wrong with caring about people too much,” Sage answered, reminding him yet again that they were in a conversation and not a sexually charged staring contest, “Or loving someone too much.”

“I’m sure there’s a limit to everything,” he said in a low whisper, “But I wouldn’t take it from me. I’m not a Jedi.”

“You’re still wise,” she smiled bashfully, “I’ve learned a lot from you already.”

He exhaled, trying to loosen the tight feeling in his chest that was now clenching his stomach as well. Taking his helmet from her grasp, he took a few steps back and said, “You’ll get the hang of things. Just trust yourself a little more, yeah?”

“I think I trust you more than I trust myself,” she admitted, wrapping her robes around her body tighter.

“Good thing I’ll always have your back,” was all he told her as he walked away toward the base’s exit.

She watched him leave, knowing he was probably going to meet General Syndulla to talk about the counterattack that most likely wasn’t happening tomorrow. They would just have to see, though. Things were constantly changing around here. Still, Sage stayed rooted in that same spot for hours just watching the infirmary from this safe distance like a tree planted during a storm. Even though her focus was on all the soldiers who made their sacrifice earlier today, every inch of her body buzzed with the reminder of her captain’s undoing presence that she subconsciously searched for in this large, lonely base. But he wasn’t thinking about her. He couldn’t bring himself to this acceptance.

Chapter Text

PRESENT

Sage was slumped in her usual copilot’s seat when Amaryllis returned to the ship much later than she promised. Classic, of course. The padawan didn’t expect to have waited for more than an hour, but the night was deeply settled into the planet by the time the smuggler waltzed through the cockpit like she owned the place. Well, she did. But this attitude remained everywhere she went, which was something Sage always questioned inside of her own trembling mind. All she could think about right now, though, was the fact that she just saw Howzer after nearly a year of wondering if he was still alive. And also trying to forget about him. But that was hopeless, just like everything about her life.

“Heard you caused a scene,” Amaryllis said before taking a long drag of her spice stick as they lifted into the sky. She blew the smoke toward the disgruntled padawan, who turned her body away in a curled-up position that indicated her disinterest.

“Not really,” Sage replied quietly.

Amaryllis laughed and stretched her legs out once they were in hyperspace. “Hm. So you just pulled the knife out for fun. Or…were you flirting with him? I didn’t take you for a—“

“I should be asking you the questions,” Sage snapped more aggressively than she intended, “You can start by telling me when you started working with the Empire. If they turn me in—“

“Woah, woah. You got it all wrong—“

“Did I? Because that was an Imperial senator’s house. And she was with Imperial troopers.”

The words burned Sage’s throat as she remembered “Imperial” should have been replaced by “Republic.” But the galaxy had moved past this time—destroyed it, even. She swallowed hard and continued, “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but you could have told me instead of being all cool and mysterious about it. I thought we were a team.”

“Don’t get it twisted,” Amaryllis rolled her eyes and spun around in her seat a few times, “I don’t do teams. Besides, we don’t have to put a label on this. I don’t really do labels, either.”

Sage sighed and rubbed her eyes, far too exhausted and overwhelmed to deal with her ally’s lighthearted bullshit at the moment. Amaryllis hardly took anything seriously, but now was more a time than ever. Especially when she needed to be honest about her business at Senator Chuchi’s estate well after curfew.

“Can you just tell me what’s going on?” Sage whispered, “I feel like I missed out on some big secret—“

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“What do you mean?”

Amaryllis turned her seat forward again and glanced at Sage from the side. “I knew you’d freak out. Plus, it’s not like you’d be interested in this shit. You’re too busy living in the past.”

Sage furrowed her eyebrows and considered this deeply, trying to figure out how to perceive these blunt words. The answers to all her questions still weren’t clear, though. So, all she said in response was, “I still don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised you couldn’t figure it out already. You read me like a book on Felucia,” Amaryllis remarked in reference to the first time they met.

They both remembered this encounter pretty clearly. As soon as the padawan accepted the smuggler’s outstretched hand to be helped to her feet, a connective string of memories passed through their minds like an unspoken exchange of information. That was how Sage discerned Amaryllis’s history as a Jedi—but only briefly. This area of the smuggler’s identity was closed off like the rest of her personal business (which was pretty much everything, now that Sage was thinking about it). It was still oddly coincidental that they crossed paths that day, especially since the smuggler hadn’t encountered a Jedi for many years before, but they did. And now, a new leap of faith presented itself as a consequence of tonight’s events.

“A lot has changed since then,” Sage replied with a frustrated disappointment clogging her throat, “Everything is so clouded…”

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass on the lecture about the Force. Personally, I haven’t touched that in years.”

“That’s not even how it works—“

“Do you want to know what I was doing at Chuchi’s house, or not?” Amaryllis interrupted, “But before you answer, you should know that it’s more than a yes or no. If I tell you, then you have a responsibility.”

“What kind of responsibility?” Sage asked carefully, wondering why she felt deja vu from this conversation.

“Loyalty,” Amaryllis said, “So, if I tell you, then you’re in. Can’t say you’re out if you know what’s going on.”

“I don’t even know what I’m pledging my loyalty to. I’m going into this completely blind—”

“Bothers you, huh? Makes you wonder why the Jedi do that shit all the time. Or, they did.”

Sage jolted in her seat a bit, not expecting the conversation to take this kind of turn. A chilling rush of torment flooded her veins before she felt as if she was frozen all over. Suddenly unable to move or speak, she simply stared at Amaryllis in disbelief. The smuggler shrugged and continued, “I’m not working with the Empire. I can tell you that much without risking anything.”

Trying to put the pieces together in her already fragmented mind wasn’t easy, but Sage immediately thought about Howzer and what he could possibly be doing at the moment. And if this wasn’t Imperial business, then maybe that meant his duties pertained elsewhere…But how? Why? More questions swarmed her thoughts, hardly helping her already conflicted state. She inhaled a deep breath and said, “You can trust me.”

“I know,” Amaryllis snorted, “It’s not like you’re in a position to do anything anyway.”

“Will you just say it instead of insulting me? I know I’m in a bad spot right now, just—”

“Fine. I’m getting paid to supply intel and weapons while keeping my mouth shut. That’s all.”

Sage wrinkled her nose and replied, “So you just didn’t want to share the money with me.”

“Excuse me?” Amaryllis feigned offense as her jaw dropped in disbelief, “That is not true.”

“Feels like it to me. It’s not exactly like you to harp on loyalty when you told me this galaxy is everyone for themselves. Remember?”

The smuggler set her jaw but shrugged, passing this off as casually as possible. “If I’m getting paid to be loyal, then I will. Doesn’t mean I’m loyal to the cause. There’s a difference.”

“What cause?” Sage asked despite knowing the answer through intuition already.

“Didn’t really ask for the details, but seeing that the senator’s helping these deserters out…” Amaryllis paused to take another drag of her cigarette, “It’s probably highly illegal and borderline treasonous. Just another day, you know…”

“Deserters? So…they’re not Imperial soldiers?”

“Are you slow? I just said I wasn’t working with the Empire.”

Sage buried her face in her hands and sighed, unsure why she couldn’t believe what she was hearing right now. She knew that Amaryllis was telling the truth—she could feel that much. It just didn’t make sense to her that Howzer would abandon his post, but the fact that he did made her wonder if he would’ve followed through with the order that nearly killed her. When was this change of heart experienced? From whispers and observations she garnered throughout the past year on the road, she saw fewer clone troopers because a new wave of recruits across the galaxy had slowly replaced them. Paying attention to the news went a long way these days, only…truth was always distorted under Imperial propaganda. Perhaps these disappearing numbers among the soldiers she once fought alongside weren’t solely because they were merely being phased out. Maybe some of them had taken it upon themselves to leave before they were told to. But the grief that stabbed her chest every day after losing her master to these monsters she once considered friends prevented her from understanding why they would have decided to desert in the first place. Nobody in the 327th hesitated when Order 66 was declared. Not even the commander who Sage believed she could trust after distantly observing the affection he developed for her master.

Trust. What a meaningless word nowadays.

“Your turn,” Amaryllis brought up before letting the padawan answer, “What’s with you and the guy with the dumb haircut? Did he try anything?”

Sage glanced up in shock, not even thinking twice before saying, “You’re kidding. His haircut…isn’t dumb.”

“Hm, defensive, I see. You know him, then?”

“I…” Sage trailed off as she looked down at her lap again with a growing pit of nostalgia forming at the bottom of her empty stomach, “I did. We fought on Ryloth together for most of the war.”

Amaryllis whistled a low tone under her breath. “Small world. I never mentioned you to them, so I didn’t realize you were buddies.”

“I haven’t seen him since…I think the last time we spoke was a few days before I went to Felucia to meet my master,” Sage reminisced, “But then everything fell apart.”

“Don’t forget the part where I saved your ass.”

“I haven’t forgotten that.”

“Good,” Amaryllis yawned and stood up to shuffle out of the cockpit where she’d find a place to sleep in her messy bunk, “Wake me up when we get to Corellia.”

Sage simply responded with a brief nod before tucking her legs closer to her chest in her seat. She didn’t know what kind of job they’d have to pull next, but all of this back and forth across planets had grown quite familiar in such a short period of time. But a year was also a long distance when considering how deeply everything had changed—including her. Even during the awful war she never questioned what kind of person she was meant to become. The answer was always clear because the Order remained standing throughout this conflict. Despite the growing corruption she perceived across the shaky Republic, her confidence in the Jedi hardly wavered. Until it did, though. And yet, she could practically feel the dirt under her nails from her desperation to hold onto the past. Her grip on this mountainous peak of her life only seemed to tighten after seeing the man who represented everything she once wanted but knew she couldn’t have. She remembered being perfectly fine with loving him from afar because that was what most Jedi did. Contrary to the sentiments that Jedi were prohibited from such strong emotions, Sage welcomed them. Let them consume her, even.

The secrets most buried were the nightmares that swallowed their constituents whole, while the lesson to be learned was always about control. Balance. Acceptance. Unfortunately, Sage never finished her training. And it was almost certain that she never would.

A few weeks passed like its usual blur, leaving Sage hungry for something she didn’t have the energy to crave. Despite protesting against this decision, Amaryllis had her stay right by her side when their next meeting with these “deserters” occurred. Apparently, it had barely been a couple of months since the senator first hired the smuggler’s highly illegal and borderline treasonous skillset. Sage soon realized her foolish oblivion. She now understood the intention behind all those useless errands Amaryllis made her run to get her away for the few hours the smuggler needed during her covert meetings. Stupid Sage, that was for sure. Right now, though, she was more displeased with Amaryllis than shocked at her own unawareness. They were on Coruscant, which was the one planet Sage wanted to avoid for her safety but also for the sake of squashing memories that torturously reminded her of what she once had. The golden age of her life. Come to think of it, the war was the start of all this decline. This included meeting Howzer, if she really delved deep into the truth. But still, she couldn’t find the strength to associate him with everything terrible when he was the only good she experienced for a while. Even now, when she didn’t trust him anymore, she didn’t hate him. She wished she did.

“This is taking too long,” Sage said nervously, shrinking her body into her oversized jacket, “We should’ve met somewhere else.”

“Relax, it’s safe here,” Amaryllis looked around the repair shop where her ship was parked and waiting for her clients, “I think…”

“Great,” Sage muttered under her breath as she sat cross-legged on one of the crates they had brought out, supposedly for this mysterious exchange.

“You can wait inside if you’re gonna have an attitude about this.”

“I don’t have an attitude.”

“Sure,” Amaryllis rolled her eyes, leaning back against the crate beside the irritated padawan, “If you’re holding out just ‘cause you wanna see him, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. They usually have the blonde one pick up this shit. Maybe he’s their errand boy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sage retorted.

“Sure.”

“Seriously. I don’t.”

“Alright, I got it,” Amaryllis shrugged, flicking her lighter a few times to catch a flame that she raised to the spice stick between her lips.

Sage turned her face away a bit, still not fond of the particular smell that came from these euphoric cigarettes. That was nothing new—a consistency that couldn’t deny itself the same way she struggled to adapt to any sudden circumstance. There was nothing loose or pliable about Sage, for she couldn’t be molded and stretched the way the galaxy wanted. Her posture stiffened even more than it already was when a large, ugly ship docked in the hangar just in front of where she was sitting with her ally. Despite the promise that Howzer wouldn’t be here, a distinctly familiar feeling washed over Sage like a scathing bucket of hot water that burned and singed her flesh into raw scraps. She looked away when the doors to this new vessel opened and released a ramp that lowered to the floor, gnawing on the inside of her cheek out of sheer nerves.

“Huh,” Amaryllis cocked her head to the side and took her spice stick between her fingers, “That’s new.”

Sage didn’t reply, already thinking about standing from this crate and heading back inside the ship. She was about to follow through on this when the smuggler continued, “Oh, that one—he’s gorgeous. Can’t seem to ever get a conversation out of him, though. Maybe today’s the day.”

“I thought you said his haircut was dumb,” Sage scoffed, unsure why her cheeks were suddenly burning in aggravation.

“No, not him. You can keep him,” Amaryllis said before nudging the padawan with an elbow, “I’m talking about that one.”

Sage glanced up from her shaking hands and followed the direction in which Amaryllis’s eyes were fixated. They both found themselves looking at the trooper walking beside Howzer and saying something out of earshot. His armor was dark unlike his counterpart’s, but that wasn’t the most surprising feature Sage observed. She wasn’t sure what was more questionable—the scomp link for his right hand or the mechanical legs from the knee down. In terms of confirming whether or not he was “gorgeous,” Sage couldn’t say for certain. He was wearing his helmet, while Howzer had his off and between the crook of his elbow as they both drew closer with every step they took.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Sage sighed as she stood and adjusted her jacket, “He doesn’t belong to me. I don’t understand what you mean by ‘keep him.’”

“From what you told me, it sounds like you two have history,” Amaryllis muttered, intentionally keeping her voice down.

Sage recoiled in shock before turning around completely so she could head up the ramp of their own ship. “No, that’s not what I—Never mind. Just make this quick, please.”

“Yeah, yeah. I just need the money. We’ll be gone soon.”

The padawan rolled her eyes, unable to suppress the frown that curved her lips downward as she disappeared into the ship before Howzer reached them. She vaguely heard Amaryllis strike up a curt conversation with how bold and straightforward her words sounded, but all of that external noise was drowned out when she burst into the cockpit. Yearning for a real bed for once, she settled for the copilot’s seat and closed her eyes with the intention of calming the loud roaring in her blood that prevented her from breathing properly. Her bloody memories from Felucia were terribly vivid at the moment as if she was experiencing that day all over again.

“Sage, stay close,” Aayla said firmly as she led her battalion through the wild underbrush that she and many troopers had to duck under. The padawan, on the other hand, flowed past everything like the free spirit she was when out in the open.

“I know,” Sage reassured her master, “But Bly and I have a bet on who’s the better navigator.”

“Interesting,” the Jedi master replied, casting an amused glance at her slightly bashful second in command, “And whose idea was that may I ask?”

“Mine,” Sage chirped, sweeping a hand through some of the large leaves that drooped closer to the ground.

Any response to this became lost as she moved further ahead, not even thinking about the battle that was to ensue soon enough. The Outer Rim sieges didn’t interest her, just like the Free Ryloth movement terrified her. She had decided to join Aayla and the 327th here on Felucia for this campaign, temporarily leaving Howzer in charge back where she had been for the majority of this war. It wasn’t like anything would change for him, though. He was the real leader everyone looked up to. Regardless, it was definitely nice reuniting with Aayla and Bly after so long. Despite the circumstances, Sage felt comforted by their presence.

Suddenly, in a split second, the padawan’s stomach dropped as darkness seized her insides. She turned around to see if her master felt the same, only to witness a sight that shocked her body into a frozen state of submission. Blasters were raised, voices were chattering on the comms, and Aayla whipped her head back and forth a few times before her body fell to the ground. Numb and completely lost, Sage could barely hear the shower of bullets that tore through her master’s delicately blue skin. But she could see the damage as soon as it was wrought. The gaping, burning holes across Aayla’s body looked like the product of a dream that Sage couldn’t wake up from because this was real life. This was survival.

“Aayla…” Sage whispered, staggering backward into the brush.

She didn’t know why her body was bringing her away rather than closer, especially when her heart wanted to launch herself at the now lifeless body lying at Commander Bly’s feet. But the padawan’s instincts took over, sending her sprinting away and thanking fate for giving her that head start. Blaster bullets and thundering footsteps followed closely behind, paired with a bloodthirsty desire that clouded her senses.

“Aayla. Aayla. Aayla—“

“Harper. Harper.”

Sage’s eyes flew open as she turned her head, bringing her face to face with the man who consumed her thoughts day and night. She didn’t think twice before surging forward and tackling him to the ground, surprising both of them with her strength that she barely used but always had. Her shaky hands pinned his arms down, preventing them from hurting her because that was her biggest fear at the moment. Breathing hard, she stared at him with wide eyes as her curls fell past her face and brushed against his chest plate from their proximity. He couldn't feel this featherlight contact through the thick barrier of his armor, but he imagined the sensation as if it were reality. Blinking a few times like a deer in headlights, she observed the familiar lines of the two prominent scars on his face that glared at her almost angrily, even though that wasn't the case at all. Both of them remembered the circumstances surrounding those old wounds like it was yesterday, just as the entire war came flooding back in memories that shoved all the words on the tip of their tongues to the back of their throats. This reunion was starkly different from the one back on Pantora, for there was no nightly breeze to separate their bodies. Nor was there anywhere either of them could run. They simply looked at each other, their chests rising and falling in unison. Nothing slowed or sped up—it just stayed the same. 

Dropping his eyes to her parted lips for just a split second, Howzer let his head fall back against the floor in apparent defeat. "Good to see you, too."

But he hadn’t even put up a fight to begin with. Sage took a few more heavy breaths before exhaling with finality and releasing her hold on him. He sat up when she shifted off of him, both of them ignoring how she had been straddling his middle from this abrupt moment. They sat on the floor together in silence for a moment as she tried to collect herself, knowing through logic that he wasn’t here to hurt her. But the ghosts of her past said otherwise, which was all the more reason why she always felt so distorted in her decision-making. Nothing was ever clear enough when she was constantly pained by the reminder that she had been betrayed by the family she was supposed to trust.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered harshly, refusing to look at him.

He tilted his head toward her, searching her distant expression. “I could be asking you the same thing.”

“Where’s Amary—Amara?”

“Arguing about her payment outside,” Howzer paused with pursed lips before mentioning, “She doesn’t really seem like your style. Are you sure you can trust her?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” Sage said coldly.

“You know exactly what I mean by that.”

“If you don’t trust her, then why are you buying weapons from her?”

Howzer sighed and cast an absentminded glance at the nearby wall. “We don’t exactly have a lot of options. I’ll spare you the details.”

“Well, I don’t either,” Sage whispered, “She’s the only one who can help me out here.”

“I can help you. If you come with us.”

“Why would I go anywhere with you?”

The words came out harsher than she intended, but the damage was done. A flicker of pain shadowed his expression for a moment that Sage couldn’t take back. Neither of them was looking at each other when he inhaled quietly and said, “You don’t have to. But…I just want you to consider it.”

After finally mustering the strength to look at him, Sage observed the scratches and dirt across his armor. Meeting his eyes that softened once they locked with hers, she replied, “I’m done fighting.”

“I guess that hasn’t changed.”

Among all the things that have, Sage wanted to say. But she didn’t reply, only drawing her legs inward so she could rest her chin on her knees. Despite appearing closed off, she could feel herself letting her guard down as this conversation progressed. Uncertain if this was a good thing, she squeezed her eyes shut and told him, “We should just pretend this never happened. You can go do whatever it is you’re doing, and I’ll…do what I’m doing, I guess. It’s better that way.”

“That’s it?” His tone was incredulous, laced with a disappointment that clenched her heart, “After all this time…that’s it? Harper, I thought you were dead for nearly a year—“

“I should be,” she interrupted as annoying and unnecessary tears pricked her eyelids, “I wish I was.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. “Don’t say that…”

“I wish I was dead,” she snapped, opening her eyes to let everything pour out.

Howzer couldn’t mask the surprise that surged through his entire body upon seeing her tear-streaked face. Sure, she had been upset in front of him numerous times during the war, but she had never cried when he was around. She was also a bit startled by herself, considering that she hadn’t shed a single tear since the day her world turned upside down and inside out. Numb to it all, she couldn’t muster any energy until today. Until he showed up. She didn’t understand why he provoked such strong, visceral emotions inside of her just like that. Like he could snap his fingers and she would fall at his command. It was unfair. Everything was so disgustingly unfair.

“I wish they killed me,” her voice broke, “No—I wish I stayed on Ryloth that day. I wish I didn’t see any of that—Maybe you would’ve killed me, and that would’ve been fine—“

“Stop,” he said firmly, “Do you hear yourself right now? Don’t say that—“

He cut himself off when a louder sob wracked her trembling shoulders. The sound immediately tightened his chest with an intensity that burned and expanded toward his hands. Itching to sweep her hair out of her eyes and wipe her tears away, he hesitated before taking one finger and gently moving a springy curl out of the way.

“I don’t know how I can make this better,” he murmured, “But just know that I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

She stared at him in disbelief, suddenly sensing his guilt so quickly that it hit her like a dying star plummeting to its graveyard.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he continued when she was silent, “I can help you, or, at least…put you in touch with someone who can. I know you don’t exactly trust me anymore, and I don’t blame you, but I still have your back. That hasn’t changed.”

She was still silent, so he laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “To be completely honest, I’ve been thinking about how we’ve even been able to see each other again like this. I mean…what are the chances? It doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”

“You’re beginning to sound like a Jedi,” she brought up quietly with her lips curving upward ever so slightly.

Chuckling at this under his breath, he lifted a shoulder and said, “I think it’s just your wisdom that’s rubbed off on me over the years.”

“You think I’m wise?” She was smiling wider now, which could only provoke a similar reaction of his own.

The captain leaned forward, bringing their faces a bit closer. Their proximity was dangerous, to say the least—he would never have dreamed of making this kind of move during the war. But now that they were merely Sage and Howzer—not commander and captain—he felt a bit different about how he could approach her. He was almost free in that sense.

“A lot more than I am, that’s for sure,” he admitted, “I made some mistakes that I’m not proud of while you were gone.”

Her gaze softened a bit when she noticed the sorrow that flashed through his eyes. “What do you mean?”

He opened his mouth to answer but decided against it. Shaking his head, he stood and offered his hand which helped her up as well. They weren’t at an even eye level anymore, prompting her to angle her chin a bit higher so she could meet his eyes. Some tears were still clinging to her lashes like morning dew falling atop the trees that witnessed her birth in the little village barely remembered anymore. She wiped the rest of her face with a ragged cloth she found in her pocket before asking him, “You’re not getting yourself into trouble, right?”

“Trouble would be an understatement,” he answered while taking a step toward the cockpit’s doors.

This action said one thing and one thing only—it was time to go.

Sage pursed her lips and reached her hand out, letting it pause in the air before it dropped to her side again. “Howzer…”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Don’t do anything stupid. The Empire isn’t a joke.”

“Trust me,” he sighed, “I know.”

She heard the exhaustion underlying the determination in his tone, indicating to her that she didn’t even know half of what he had been through this past year. Just like he didn’t know the extent to which her nightmares haunted her on a daily basis. Both of them had a lot of catching up to do, but things just didn’t feel the same anymore. At least, that was how she perceived their current situation. She sensed that he wanted her to follow him, which was rooted in a desire to reconnect and make amends for a conflict that hadn’t intentionally divided them. Unfortunately, she didn’t want the same at the moment, which was strange. There was once a time when she would go with him anywhere—to worlds beyond safety just because he was by her side. A lot had changed, though. Too much.

“Your new friend has our comm channel,” He added when she simply watched him as if she was waiting for him to leave, “If you ever decide that smuggling isn’t your thing…”

“I don’t really know what my thing even is anymore,” she admitted, “I’m still figuring that out right now.”

“Well, I’m here to help. Whenever you need it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

He could hear it in her voice that she wasn’t planning on reaching out any time soon. Accepting this with a sigh, he left the ship as quietly as he came. Sage listened to his footsteps until she couldn’t anymore, fully aware that she was treating him terribly when he didn’t deserve it. She just didn’t know how to control the grief that was currently manifesting into rage. It wasn’t the Jedi way. It wasn’t right. She thought about this in silence even after Amaryllis boarded the ship with a foul mood and not enough credits to satisfy the bargain she thought her clients would uphold this time around. No, Sage’s mind was elsewhere, and her eyes were fixated on the particular numerical sequence that the ship’s communications panel displayed like a sign from the galaxy. One that she ignored despite the quiet tears that streamed down her face and tasted like salt in the wounds his presence just opened up all over again.

Chapter Text

PAST

Despite the Twi’leks’ pride in their warrior traditions and fighting spirit, they also enjoyed less intense rituals that didn’t require the loss of life. The war was still raging forward like it always did, but today was a special occasion that General Syndulla needed to acknowledge. Simply put, a break from the boardroom and battle strategies was necessary to commemorate his only daughter’s birthday. Although young and naive, Hera Syndulla harbored the same fiery passion that made everyone around her think she was the identical reflection of her renowned father. However, the general personally believed that she would go on to become much greater than him. Such a determined promise was familiar within the Harper blood that coursed through Sage’s body. Even though the padawan never knew her biological parents, she felt a strange sense of deja vu every time she saw Hera interact with Cham and Eleni. Deja vu, but also curious longing.

“You ever been to a birthday party before?”

Sage ripped her gaze away from the Syndulla family and looked at her captain, who was leaning against the wall beside her. Smiling and shaking her head, she said, “No. I still don’t understand why you dragged me here.”

“Well, I couldn’t decline my invitation,” Howzer replied, “And there were no rules against bringing a plus one.”

“So, is that what I am? Your plus one?”

“Yeah. You can go back to being my CO tomorrow.”

Laughing softly, she reached over and nudged his shoulder a bit. “You’re full of jokes today. Surely it’s not the birthday that’s gotten you in a good mood.”

“Honestly,” he shrugged and shifted a bit closer to her, “I’m just glad to be doing something other than our usual…you know.”

“I know what you mean. And I’m not sure if anyone’s told you this recently, but…you’re working really hard, Howzer. We’re all lucky to have you.”

His eyebrows shot up for a brief second before he leveled his expression again. “I appreciate that, Commander.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t your CO tonight,” Sage teased.

Instead of responding to this, Howzer took a swig of whatever mysterious liquid was served to him just a few minutes ago. Swallowing, he cringed and extended his arm to stare at the contents now rimming the bottom of his translucent cup.

“What’s wrong?” Sage asked curiously.

“I thought this was alcohol.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he grimaced and handed the cup to her, “I don’t know what it is. Try it.”

She furrowed her eyebrows at him. “Me?”

He simply looked at her until she raised the drink to her lips and took the smallest sip that still provoked the same reaction as his. Worried that someone—like the general who already hated her—would see this as an offense to the Twi’lek culture, she turned her head into the wall and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

“That’s…not great,” she admitted, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous this conversation was.

“It’s awful,” he whispered back.

Now she was really laughing, ignoring some of the glances that other guests stole in her direction. “Yeah, it is. But I don’t know why you expected there to be alcohol at a child’s birthday party.”

“For the adults, of course.”

“Ah, the adults. Well, I’m sure the general would be open to your feedback.”

“Maybe you should say something,” Howzer replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes that Sage didn’t often see with how seriously he took his duties.

He really was letting loose tonight. This truth made her happy, especially because she felt the pressure on his shoulders that she wished she could ease. But it just wasn’t as simple as that.

“No way,” she shook her head, “I don’t even think he likes that you brought me here.”

The captain tilted his head down toward her, meeting her eyes with intense resolve. “You’re overthinking it.”

Shrinking back a bit, unsure how to respond to the sudden heaviness that made their conversation feel ten times more intimate, Sage simply shrugged and trained her gaze forward. Her lips tugged into an absentminded smile when she observed the lively energy in the room among the children—mainly Hera’s good friends from school—but also the adults who seemed just as relaxed as Howzer. A lot of them were freedom fighters like Cham, supporting the movement for their people and a brighter future they hoped to experience soon enough. Relief sank into this space like warm sunlight against skin, a feeling both absorbed and exuded.

When she turned back to Howzer to give her delayed reply, she paused upon noticing that someone else had occupied his attention. Sneaky, to say the least. A Twi’lek woman of slender stature was currently striking up a conversation with the captain, who seemed unfazed and even welcome to this cozy introduction. Sage wasn’t surprised either, given her awareness of his popularity. It was definitely the hair. But, once a few words and smiles were exchanged, it was also the kindness. Howzer was a good man, to say the least. Discovering this truth didn’t require much effort or time—only courage. Sage found herself staring at the pair without meaning to, casting her eyes over the woman’s figure. It wasn’t her radiantly orange skin or crystalline blue eyes that formed a pit in the padawan’s stomach, though. Beauty was everywhere, and that couldn’t be denied.

It was the natural affection between the two of them that bothered Sage for a reason she didn’t understand at the time. She sensed that Howzer had completely let his guard down, but even the Force didn’t need to tell her that. He was so obviously interested in this conversation. His body was positioned toward this woman as he cocked his head to the side and maintained a charming smile that would make any normal person wildly nervous. Sage wasn’t even listening to the murmurs they exchanged among the background noise, for she was too busy observing the subtle instances they touched each other—more displays of affection that seemed to follow the guidelines of flirting. She wouldn’t know, but she was overcome with a hazy fog of lust the more she perceived this interaction. Sometimes, sensing others’ emotions was more of a blessing than a curse.

Averting her eyes when the Twi’lek ran a playful hand through Howzer’s hair and giggled at something he was saying, Sage blew out a breath before looking around for an escape route. The problem was, she didn’t know how she should approach the others in small talk. Despite her relaxed and somewhat conversational state around Howzer, this only remained consistent among her closest friends. She could count the number of people she felt this comfortable around on one hand. Not even, actually. Aayla. Bly. Quinlan. Howzer. That was only four, which further proved her insecure suspicions that she was a terrible socializer. Her captain, on the other hand, was so fluid and attractive that he could talk to anyone—even if he didn’t actively pursue these situations. He didn’t have to because they often found him first.

A youthful, bubbly voice cut into Sage’s thoughts. “Commander Harper?”

The padawan looked down where she saw Hera standing before her with her hand raised in a serious salute.

“Hello,” Sage said, “That’s a nice blaster.”

Hera loosened her posture a bit and shifted this weapon in her small, green hands that couldn’t possibly hold a real one yet. “It’s just a toy. My father says I’m too young for anything real.”

Sage thought about how to reply to this, but she realized this delay was irredeemable when the birthday girl continued, “He wants to speak with you. If you’re not busy.”

“Oh,” Sage flicked her eyes across the room where she spotted the general and a few of his men conversing in a quiet corner with solemn expressions, “Just me?”

“I think so. That’s what he said, at least.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

The young girl smiled and nodded before bounding away, catching some friends off guard with a shared laughter that reminded Sage of her childhood in the Temple. Despite wanting to return home and forget about the war, the padawan had other responsibilities to uphold. She pushed this out of her mind and spared a glance at Howzer, considering whether or not she should tell him that she was stepping away for a moment. This decision fell flat when she saw the Twi’lek’s arms snake around his armored bicep, bringing the intimately acquainted pair closer together as she whispered something in his ear. It looked so easy—just a simple expression of delicate femininity that never came naturally to Sage. Ignoring the clogged feeling in her throat, the padawan walked away and didn’t look back until she reached the corner of the lounge where Cham was waiting for her with a wary yet strangely warm expression. She didn’t know what to make of this contradiction other than the fact that maybe, just maybe, his proven dislike for her wasn’t completely personal. As a leader with a heavy weight bearing down his lonely back, it was only natural for him to treat trust like a precious commodity rather than a standard state of being. Maybe.

“Commander,” he greeted her, “I wasn’t sure if the Jedi celebrated birthdays. I dare say your customs are still a mystery to me.”

Sage felt her shoulders go rigid even though she didn’t perceive any immediate threats. Flicking her gaze around the group, she replied, “A lot of our traditions have been overshadowed by the war. The version of us you know now…it’s strayed from who we truly are.”

“How curious. I wonder if your elders would agree with that,” the general mused, not bothering to mask his surprise at her bold assertion that didn’t make a presence on the battlefield.

“I don’t think they would care. It’s like everyone’s forgotten…” She paused and shook her head, “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to get off track. Hera said you wanted to speak with me.”

Lifting his head in a brief nod, Cham slid his eyes over to his men as if to ask for privacy. Once the rest of the group had left, Sage’s expression grew uncomfortably taut for a reason he didn’t provoke himself. She just wasn’t sure how to approach this interaction, second-guessing the way she was standing to the position of her hands. Realizing her gaze was wavering downward so as to avoid him, she tried to blink away her doubts and look straight at him with a confidence that surprised them both.

“I can’t help but think about my own people through your criticism,” he continued despite Sage’s effort to pivot the conversation, “This war has changed everyone, but I accept the bloodshed if it means my daughter can live in a better Ryloth.”

Sage’s eyebrows briefly bunched together, but she looked more afraid than confused. “I don’t think anything better can arise from bloodshed.”

Despite Cham’s level expression, the padawan sensed a shift in his mood through the emotions that blanketed their conversation like a thick fog. She worried that she said the wrong thing yet again, which wouldn’t have been a surprise if that was the case. It didn’t matter if she was speaking or remaining quiet, though. Every possible choice she could make seemed to disappoint and bother the older adults around her, reminding her that she would always be seen as a child no matter how much she had grown. This in itself stunted any further opportunity to blossom because it felt as if everyone had already given up on her. If she changed herself a little, perhaps, that could be rectified. If she obeyed more. Cared more. Said what the others wanted to hear. But that was all bullshit—like this war.

“Your disagreement is welcome,” he said, “More than letting your captain speak for you all the time, that is.”

She frowned at this, wondering if that was the reason he called her here. Reading her mind, or at least anticipating her thoughts, the general shook his head and smiled.

“Howzer was telling me how much you dislike being here…”

“Did he say that?”

“No, not exactly,” Cham took a sip of his drink that looked suspiciously like the alcohol Howzer was expecting, “Just that you believe in peace—that violence is unnecessary. I can only imagine this means you are not particularly passionate about our cause, but I didn’t need the captain’s word to know that.”

Sage’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, but she felt too deep into this discussion to run away or avoid such confrontation. Conflict, on so many levels, wasn’t her strong suit. But defending herself was.

“He’s right,” she cast a sideways glance at her captain from across the room, ignoring the way her stomach sank when she saw that he was still speaking with that Twi’lek woman, “I don’t believe in war.”

“Nobody does. War is something that is fought and won—not believed in.”

“Or lost.”

“Pardon?” Cham’s eyes sharpened a bit with his tone, which caused Sage to swallow a flinching lump in her throat.

“In order for there to be a winner,” Sage said carefully, “Someone needs to lose. But I don’t agree with that kind of…structure.”

“Tell me, then,” the general replied with a beckoning hand, “Your ideal world.”

This time, it was Sage’s turn to falter. “I’m…sorry?”

“The structure you believe in. What does it look like?” He clarified.

She was quiet for a moment, just envisioning the type of galaxy where she wished she could thrive instead of merely trying to survive. She could only extract knowledge from all that she experienced and learned as a youngling to now, which was centered on her identity as a Jedi. To say this aloud to someone who already harbored great skepticism for her people—it wasn’t a good idea. But she knew one thing, and it was that the world would come to balance itself over time. Republics could fall, and new powers would arise, but then those would disappear as well. Everything was a cycle—exactly how life intended it so naturally that this idea was always found in phenomena as simple as the trees this planet did not have. Ryloth wasn’t exactly a barren wasteland, but it wasn’t at all like her place of origin that she saw in her dreams. Not even like the Temple Gardens back on Coruscant. But that didn’t matter because she was here now, and she needed to accept it. Perhaps that was the reason for this conversation in the first place.

“I guess it's unrealistic,” she eventually said, “But I’d like to live in a galaxy where nobody needs to fight…for anything.”

“But you do not,” he told her, “And yet, you will continue to live as if you have the choice, hm?”

“We always have a choice. So, we should choose not to destroy what we can create.”

“I doubt the droids occupying this planet will even understand what that means.”

Sage pursed her lips and folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t blame or judge your people for defending this place—it’s your home. It’s just my personal opinion that this war should have never began in the first place.”

“Of course, I agree with that. Everyone agrees with that,” Cham laughed humorlessly, “But we cannot change the past, nor can we live in it.”

The following words were left unspoken but felt in Sage’s bones. You need to get up and fight because we’ve already been thrown into battle. She was about to ask why he was saying all of this to her when he answered the question before she had the chance. Extending his arm to lead her toward a more crowded area of the room, he said, “We are launching our counter-attack tomorrow morning. Can I put my faith in your support?”

Sage wavered slightly before planting herself upright, unsure why she felt as if all eyes were on her. The space was still busy with overlapping conversations and childish laughter. In other words, nobody was paying attention to her. Or so she thought. Her face lit up in slight shock when her eyes locked with Howzer’s from across the room, suddenly warming despite the cool temperature that sent goosebumps along her skin. The woman who captured his attention just before was still clinging to his side, chattering away and smiling like a beam of sunlight that was difficult to look at. And yet, Sage sensed a struggle in the way Howzer’s expression hardened upon watching this conversation from afar. It was like she was the one who was difficult to look at, not this other woman who made everything feel easy and forgettable. Figures.

“Well, Commander?” Cham continued, pulling Sage’s attention back to him, “Have we reached an understanding?”

“I understand,” she nodded.

He paused, taking a moment to analyze her honesty. “I know you aren’t fond of fighting, but most are born with destiny in their blood. Not dreams.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond to this, for Cham was already concluding the conversation and turning toward one of his younger comrades. He might have been around the same age as Sage—perhaps a few years older, at most. They exchanged an introductory smile before the general said, “In our little time of fun remaining…perhaps the commander can experience a few of our customs beyond the battlefield.”

The freedom fighter peered at Sage to ask, “I can’t imagine the Jedi like to dance. Would you care to learn?”

“Oh, um…” Sage recoiled a bit and stared down at her feet where she noticed the ends of her boots were just beginning to wear out, “I’ve never really…I’d be happy to watch if you have—”

Her words were abruptly interrupted when she was suddenly pushed forward into the arms of Cham’s comrade among the bright chaos that ensued around the room. People seemed to be scrambling for partners while laughing and swaying along to an emerging rhythm that overpowered all other sounds crossing Sage’s perception. The padawan vaguely heard Hera exclaim, “Oh, finally!” before she found herself caught in the mix of this…dancing. It was a completely new setting, which she could only follow as she unconsciously held onto the random Twi’lek who offered his hand in the first place. Despite feeling awkward and out of place, she released a content laugh when he whispered, “You learn fast.” It might have been complete flattery, but nobody was here to evaluate her genuine competency. This wasn’t like the combat tests she needed to perform back at the Temple, even though that experience also required choreography. Like the general said, it was just fun in their little time remaining. Because tomorrow, the war would resume and Hera Syndulla would be one year older than she was yesterday. Time couldn’t be paused no matter how strongly someone desired the past.

Through the many faces that crowded her vision, Sage spotted Howzer at the same spot she left him. The woman from before was gone, supposedly participating like everyone else in the room. The captain, on the other hand, was still leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He looked slightly amused as his eyes locked onto Sage, simply watching her get pushed around in this mosh pit of energy that she barely escaped from in one piece. Breathlessly pushing her hair out of her face, she looked up at him and asked, “Not a dancer?”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “Looks like you are, though.”

“Not really. Where did your friend go?” She replied, trying to pass off her curiosity as casually as possible.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “My friend?”

“Oh, you know…whoever you were just talking to. She seemed interested in you.”

“Ah. I don’t know—she went off somewhere else, I guess.”

Sage nodded as if she understood, but more questions bubbled on her tongue that would have probably bred more disappointment than actual knowledge if she asked them. She tucked her hands inside her robe and brushed her fingers over the hilt of her lightsaber, grounding her to a calmer reality despite her racing heart. The uncertainty of why she didn’t like seeing Howzer speak to other women in that particular way was frustrating but also embarrassing. She was his commanding officer—but that wasn’t the only reason why she needed to rid herself of this feeling. The attachment she was aware that she was forming toward him…it permeated every aspect of her thinking and being these days. Even while he was right in front of her, she searched for him. The invisible hand that bound her to the Force connected her to his soul, but it was so guarded like the rest of him whenever she was near.

“How did it go?” Howzer brought up, nodding toward the general, “With Cham.”

“He just wanted to lecture me,” Sage replied, “But I’m used to it. Still a padawan, you know…”

She hesitated before adding, “I didn’t know that you talked about me to him, though.”

He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to remember when this would have occurred and what could have been exchanged. “What did I say?”

“You tell me…”

“All good things, I’m sure,” he reassured her.

“Well, now he knows that I don’t like it here,” she wrinkled her nose, “So…it probably wasn’t good.”

“I don’t mean this to offend you…but it doesn’t really seem like you care.”

She sighed and dropped her hand from her lightsaber. “No, but…yeah. I guess it’s too late to fix my image here.”

“You’re a peacekeeper fighting a war,” Howzer shrugged, “Sounds like a bad situation regardless of how you try to make the best out of it.”

Leaning against the wall beside him, she tilted her head downward and admitted, “I hope tomorrow morning doesn’t come.”

“It will.”

“I know.”

His voice was quieter when he said, “You’ll be fine.”

The words sounded like a gentle caress that made her blush and stare up at him in wonder. He turned his head toward her when he realized she was looking at him, having been watching the crowd in front of them. They were so close yet so far, stiffly keeping their bodies to themselves even though so many unspoken thoughts overlapped the current silence between them. Drawing his eyes away first, Howzer swallowed hard and shifted his arms a bit higher to cover more of his chest. Sage felt the invisible walls of his heart go up again, placing more distance between them even though neither of them moved. But the physical world wasn’t the only measure of such connection. Across a more intangible plane that Sage could access with her mind, she nearly witnessed his soul pull away from hers. She sensed his desire to get away so strongly that she realized he could never be around her without wanting that distance. Without creating it himself, even. While she sought to follow wherever he attempted to escape, naturally attaching herself to his being, he constantly slipped away. Perhaps into other people’s arms. She didn’t know for certain.

For someone so obsessed with timing, Sage could never find the right one.

Chapter Text

PRESENT

Howzer knew that Sage was never going to call. During the war, there were times when he believed he understood her more than his own self. Although a lot had changed since then, he still felt her presence as if it had never left. In reality, it was more like an absence. Regardless of how he defined the weight of her spirit resting in his heart, he knew she was never going to call. That was just a certainty he could gamble on and win every time. Some months passed, all blurred together in an endless heap of blood and blaster fights that never seemed to end. A voice in his head constantly told him to keep going—a voice that sounded like his own but also carried the same inflections and depth as all the brothers he lost over the years. Including the ones he let down.

So, he didn’t see or hear from Sage for a while. She only appeared in his dreams that never laid to rest even when he thought she was dead. Now that he knew the truth, they seemed to plague his mind stronger—without mercy. He could feel just how much she hated him in the vivid images that tossed and turned his body throughout the night. Most of the time, she didn’t even need to say anything. Her greatest weapon was the way she looked at him but also the way she didn’t. He couldn’t seem to catch up to her as her figure always disappeared into the foggy distance, not once turning around for old-time’s sake. Just when he thought he might’ve had the chance to reach out and touch her, he woke up. That was how his dreams always ended.

Thus, he decided it was better not to sleep at all. His body felt awake all the time, anyway. There was no concept of rest around here, even when he and his brothers insisted on taking turns keeping watch or monitoring comms. This kind of conversation was just a formality. Nobody slept anymore. They didn’t like what they saw when they closed their eyes. And yet, there were rare moments when he just gave in to his fatigue and briefly saw her again. Waking up reminded him of how shitty this always made him feel, but he couldn’t seem to get away from this desire. It was eating him alive while also nourishing his hunger.

One morning, he overheard Rex telling Echo about another supply run. They had a few contacts scattered around the galaxy, largely thanks to Senator Chuchi and their own connections, but this particular smuggler’s name caught the captain’s attention. Amara. They hadn’t needed her services in a while, which was part of the reason why Sage had slipped from his grasp. He didn’t know if they were even still working together—a lot could change in a few months—but there was only one way to find out.

“Where is she?”

Amara shrugged, already ready to be done with this brief interaction that put money in her pocket—which was all that mattered. Growing irritated at this lack of response, Howzer folded his arms over his chest and glared at the indifferent smuggler who only gave away information for a price.

“Is she here?” Howzer continued, his voice demanding and low.

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“That’s bullshit.”

She ignored this and began making her way back up her ship which showed no trace of the underlying reason for Howzer’s presence. His expression was well defined into a scowl that deepened under his helmet when he said, “Sage. Is Sage here?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah. It matters.”

“Hm. She mentioned you were always too honest for your own good,” Amara tossed over her shoulder, not pausing her step, “Guess she was right…”

His stomach jolted in surprise at this. “Yeah? What else did she say?”

The smuggler reached the curved entrance of her ship when she stopped and looked at him, sort of squinting even though her vision was perfectly clear. Howzer heard the hint of condescending pity laced in her tone when she told him, “That you should probably forget about her. She’s already done the same for you.”

A scathing flare of hurt expanded across his chest so slowly that he thought he was torturing himself by allowing these words to linger in his mind after they were said. He heard his own breath stutter from the muffled grain of his helmet. But if Amara noticed this or the slight deflation of his posture, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned to face the captain completely with a sympathetic expression that made him feel so much worse.

“Still curious?”

The question was almost taunting, implicating him to back down and rid his mind of his old friend. Suddenly tasting something bitter like blood on his tongue, Howzer retreated a step back. He was about to return to his ship so he could be on time for his rendezvous with Rex and the others, but not before saying one last thing.

“You’ll tell her I was here? Unless that costs extra…”

He could see that the smuggler was observing him with razor-sharp eyes that felt cold and desolate, especially compared to the warm round ones he sought in every reflection. A shadowed expression crossed Amara’s face as she admitted, “Can’t. She’s long gone.”

His heart seized at this as his body leaned slightly forward, suddenly curious again. “You mean you parted ways? How long ago?”

Amara raised her hands in surrender and shrugged. “Look, Cap, all I know is that she had a dream she wanted to look into. So, I dropped her off with some credits that should last her if she doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“You let her go. Just like that? Do you know how dangerous—“

“I didn’t let her do anything. She’s an adult.”

“You know who she is. You know she was a Jedi—she can’t just roam around—“

Rolling her eyes and groaning in exasperation, Amara nodded sarcastically, “Next time, I’ll ask for your permission first. You should probably get going before I start charging you by the minute for my time.”

“Where did you drop her off?” Howzer asked for good measure as his blood thrummed in his ears from his intensifying heartbeat.

He wasn’t sure why he was so riled up at the moment, but the thought of Sage all alone in this changing galaxy was enough to make him feel sick. Sometimes he wished he still thought she was dead. Ignorance was bliss, even if it meant mourning someone who never belonged to him in the first place. But now that he discovered the truth, there was hardly anything drawing a line anymore.

“Please,” he said with a hint of vulnerability dripping through that singular word he barely heard himself say, “I’m asking for peace of mind.”

Thinking he wasn’t going to get an answer when Amara simply turned her back on him, he also began walking to his ship. But, like a miracle, he heard her call out an answer in the distance. “You might have some luck in the Daiyu System. Not that I’d recommend going there in your state,” she said just as her door sealed shut.

Daiyu. The name didn’t ring a bell, but it wasn’t something Howzer couldn’t find through a quick search through the public archives. There was hardly any time to linger on this any further, though, given his responsibilities to his seemingly stagnant rebellion effort. The Empire was growing stronger as his brothers disappeared into weaker numbers that fluctuated like his hope. While his loyalty to the cause remained intact, his body and soul felt more withered by the second. He supposed this was just the price to pay for his actions back on Ryloth a little over a year ago. To stop fighting now, or ever, was so much worse than the mistakes he made just to follow orders. At least with this, he could be better than the coward he didn’t want to believe he was.

She had a dream she wanted to look into. And so did he.

Sage hated any filthy, urban planet like her life depended on it. Her skin crawled whenever she made eye contact with someone who looked like they would devour her carcass if that was what they wanted. She, on the other hand, appeared relatively normal. Amaryllis made sure of that before sending her away to chase this vision that struck her more nights than once in recent weeks. Any remnant of the Force that provided answers to questions she wasn’t even aware of should not be ignored. It was just inconvenient and irritating that of all places she winded up here. Daiyu wasn’t safe for anyone—even those who didn’t fear the Empire’s presence. All the life rotting away in this city wasn’t to be taken for granted. If she wasn’t careful, she could wind up in that mess before she even knew it.

The former padawan had arrived on Daiyu a few rotations ago. She felt a little sentimental saying goodbye to Amaryllis, who didn’t seem to share the same sense of attachment. If anything, the smuggler was probably happy to be flying solo again. They promised this wouldn’t be the last time they saw each other, though, which indicated to Sage that she could rely on her ally’s support if a situation called for such measures. It was nice to know there was someone out in this galaxy who she could count on. Of course, a more obvious name stood out to Sage when considering her choices. But she didn’t want anything to do with him. Not anymore.

“You lost, Curly? This is a dead end.”

Sage looked across the dark alley she had stumbled upon to get away from the Imperial crowd patrolling the main streets. Someone was speaking to her in the distance with a raspy tone that chilled her spine. She saw some movement, allowing her to conclude that this was just another one of those shadows who had lost their way. He wasn’t human—a species she didn’t immediately recognize—but she sensed the slowness of his heartbeat either way. Empty bottles and spice sticks surrounded this corner he probably called “home.” Such a concept was foreign to her now, too. Ignoring his question, she simply turned around and searched for another direction. But he spoke again, and his voice sounded closer this time.

“Curfew’s coming up. You got any place to be?”

“I’m okay.”

Suddenly, a grimy hand latched onto her bag that was currently slung across her shoulder. Sage jolted in surprise before shoving her assailant back, unintentionally applying more pressure than the simple contact of her hand to his shoulder should have mustered if she was just a normal person. But her abilities were hard to stifle in situations like these when her instincts flashed between flight or fight. It wasn’t the credits in her bag that she was afraid of losing—it was the other items she kept instead of rightfully discarding them at the end of the war. Now, she found herself in an awkward tug-of-war with this short drunkard she didn’t want to fist fight even though he hadn’t given her any reasons to resist such an option.

Inhaling a deep breath, Sage briefly waved her hand over his face. He looked surprised and confused at this gesture, but both of them felt the dizzying energy that slumped his body unconscious before he could muster any words. She knew better than to wield her mind tricks, especially out in public, but the only other option would have resulted in unwanted attention she couldn’t afford. Dragging his body back to his infested corner, she focused on calming her accelerating breathing before deciding where to go next. Only, she couldn’t focus very well on the surroundings that beckoned for her wavering attention. Her skin felt clammy as her steps unevenly traversed this unfamiliar city, bringing her through more alleys that couldn’t be distinguished from the next. It was in this moment that she knew she was truly, utterly alone by her own doing. And yet, she didn’t want to reach her hand out to anyone who might answer. Not Amaryllis. Never Howzer. No one.

Curfew came just as her attempted robber warned. Sage could hear Imperial troopers already making their way through the streets to clean up any stragglers, which included her at the moment. She wasn’t worried about evading them, though. Her priorities were set on listening to the Force that continuously tugged at her heart after months of disconnected intuition rooted in delusions. No, this dream was something real. The former padawan sensed she was in the right place, but it was the person she was looking for who hadn’t made an appearance.

Right, left, right, left. The hairs on the back of her neck stood as she tracked the distant footsteps that weren’t coinciding with hers anymore. Her first thought assumed the drunkard from before had somehow woken up and began following her. Persistent, but not impossible. However, she ruled this out when she realized these footsteps were more familiar than she initially perceived. A strange sense of deja vu flooded her consciousness, sending tingling goosebumps all across her body. She nearly shivered in response. It was hard to deny the presence she sensed, one that she identified quicker than she hoped, but she wondered what he was doing here. How he was able to find her. Why he even came looking in the first place. If this was a dream, too, and her senses were just betraying her like all of her desires.

Her breathing picked up as she turned a sharp corner, pressing her back against the wall to let him catch up. Right at the moment his figure was in close enough proximity, she emerged from the shadows and launched herself at him from behind. She didn’t remember taking her knife out of her pocket, but this weapon was quickly being held to his throat as her other hand held him steady. He was wearing a hooded cloak over what she assumed was his armor, since that was how she envisioned him. There was nothing gentle about the way she dug her blade into his skin, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to prove that she could.

“Took you long enough to notice,” he murmured.

His voice was soft, not at all tinged with fear despite their current situation. Even though Sage was the one holding the knife, she realized who had the real upper hand when she heard her own voice in her response.

“You were following me,” she whispered as harshly as she could muster, “Did Amara tell you I was here? I told her not to say anything…”

“Not to comment on your choice of friends, but she doesn’t strike me as someone who would keep their word. If I’m being honest, she’d probably sell you for a bag of—”

“You can’t be here, Howzer. You need to leave.”

He tilted his head back a little and turned his face at an angle that allowed her to see the scar on his left cheek. The sight shouldn’t have tightened her chest like it did, but she swallowed any bubbling emotions that weren’t helpful at the moment.

“Not without you,” he said.

She recoiled at this, letting her arms fall to her side as she stepped away from him. Wanting to get as far away from him as possible, she looked for the nearest way out. Oddly enough, her feet resisted her mind’s command to move. Her eyes remained on him as he rubbed his neck and turned around to face her. A halfhearted smile curved his lips before he asked, “When’d you become such a fighter?”

Pocketing her knife, she replied, “I’m not.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Sage thought she might explode from this small talk—she was never particularly fond of it. Such conversations always skated around the elephant in the room. Her master always told her that sometimes there were no elephants, only enjoyable presences to be cherished through simple words. Not everything needed a deeper meaning, apparently. The art of letting go included the need to stop searching for something that couldn’t be found, but she wasn’t about to give in to this unnecessary interaction. She needed to leave first.

As if he noticed she was about to pull away, Howzer said, “Harper, just listen to me, yeah?”

“No,” she hissed, looking around in a frantic panic, “Are you crazy? If we’re caught—”

“I’ll make it quick,” he interrupted as he came closer to her, reaching for her arms to hold her still.

She flinched away, causing him to drop his hands to his side, but she remained planted in place. Taking this as a chance, he stared into her eyes and continued, “You shouldn’t be traveling alone in places like these. I can take you to where you need to go…if you just come with me.”

“I’m meant to be here,” she shook her head, “I had a dream—it’s none of your business. I know where I need to go, so just…leave.”

“Please, Howzer. This has to be the last time we see each other.”

He couldn’t recognize her voice at this moment. It still sounded the same, but it carried a bitter resolve that felt like a punch to the gut. Just a few years ago, he would have never heard her like this. But the gentle, dreamy soul he once thought she would be forever was now gone. This version of her was replaced by something torn with hate—he could see it in her eyes. He always pictured the same warm, round, brown pair when he missed her more than he could admit. Tonight, just like the last couple of times they ran into each other, there was nothing left to keep him safe from the cold. All of it had already swallowed her whole.

“I…” He looked down at the ground before meeting her gaze once again, “I can’t accept that. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened, but not from his words. Hearing radio static on comms paired with a heavy set of footsteps nearing her current position, she froze. He did, too, not turning around to look at the troopers that were approaching from behind. The two runaways kept their eyes on each other, suddenly sharp and unflinching like a switch had flicked on in both of their brains. Sage was directly facing the troopers, hidden behind Howzer’s tall and broad figure. But still, they were caught past curfew. And if they were brought in for questioning, much more harmful information would come to light very quickly. That was how easy it was for the Empire to destroy any individual before the sun rose again.

“It’s past curfew. Let me see your identification—both of you.”

The one who spoke didn’t sound like a clone—figures, since that part of the military had faded into the background of everything. Sage swallowed the lump in her throat, still not looking away from her former captain who had gone completely still.

“Did you hear me? Take off your hoods, too, and turn around.”

“How many?” Howzer whispered under his breath so that only she could hear.

“Two,” Sage answered just as quietly.

“You should really start carrying around a blaster.”

She was caught off guard by this, not noticing that he had reached into his cloak for that exact weapon of choice. As soon as she blinked, his back was turned to her and the two troopers were dead on the floor. Her mind seemed to block out the clean sound of the gunfire, not wanting any reminders of when she was last in the proximity of a clone with a blaster. One shot after the other was all it took for everything to come flooding back, though. She released a breath before staggering back, not even registering when her back hit the wall behind her. Before she knew it, someone had grabbed her hand to lead her through the winding streets—away from the patrols and the deadening city. They had broken into a run that she followed robotically. Everything was a blur. She could only hear her own heartbeat as it chased her down memory lane.

Chapter Text

PAST

The stars were exceptionally bright as Sage stared up at them from the ground, vaguely listening to the chatter among her fellow soldiers in the background. Just beyond the valley that marked their current territory was the Separatist garrison they were to strike at dawn. This was only a few hours away, but Sage felt as if it was to occur in her next lifetime. She wasn’t anticipating this fight. Her mind, as always, was elsewhere. And yet, she was still afraid of the blood that was to be drawn soon enough.

“You sure that’s comfortable?”

She turned her face to the side as her captain settled down on the ground beside her. Their eyes met before he looked away, seemingly checking his gear as if he was on watch at the moment. Technically, he wasn’t, but his responsibilities never fell short of constantly staying alert. There was no room for error or distraction. Anything could go wrong, especially out here.

“It’s not,” she answered, “But at least it’s warm out here.”

“Warmer than base?”

“Exactly.”

He smiled briefly but didn’t let himself laugh even though he felt the urge to. Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced up at the stars while wondering what was so curious about them. She had been watching them for hours as they trekked across the land to where they were now, just keeping her head up instead of forward. She never watched where she was going, that was for sure.

“Do you think it’s worth getting some sleep?” She asked him, turning over so she was lying on her back again.

This time, he glanced down at her and traced the curls sprawled out on the sleeping mat folded near her head as a makeshift pillow. Her lips were level, relaxed into a natural pout that he looked away from to focus on her eyes. The green in them wasn’t so visible due to the darkness that had fallen across the sky, but he knew it was there. It was like he counted on it every time he saw her. She smiled at him when she noticed he was staring, the gesture so unconditional and instinctive that he realized she meant it.

“I’m still not sure if anyone’s even going to try,” he said in response to her question that he suddenly remembered he didn’t address, “Tonight could be the last for a lot of us.”

Her smile faded into a frown as her eyes darted toward the soldiers in the near distance—a mix of Howzer’s squad and Cham’s fighters. They were gathered around a small fire pit with their gear strewn across the ground near their crossed legs. Some had their guns in their laps, but most of them were just talking rather than thinking about survival. Because Howzer was right. Any one of them could meet their end tomorrow morning, making tonight their last opportunity to experience the galaxy as it was created. She liked that he didn’t sugarcoat anything, but it was sometimes difficult to swallow such brutal honesty. Little did she know it was even harder to say it aloud. The words tasted bitter on his tongue. Bitter like blood.

“Don’t feel bad,” he clarified when she didn’t say anything, “This is what they’re born to do. Me as well.”

She crossed her arms over her chest as if she was hugging herself. “What happens when the war ends?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will you stay here? On Ryloth?”

He raised his eyebrows at this question, having never thought about where he’d end up. It was classic Sage to think into the future, though. He, on the other hand, focused on what was heading straight for him. The immediate present. As much as he respected her way of thinking and understood it largely came from her upbringing, he knew he could never afford to dream the same way she did. He lived in too much of a nightmare for that.

“Dunno,” he chuckled humorlessly, “Guess I have to make it to the end to find out.”

“Do you want to stay here?”

“It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll go where I’m assigned.”

“You seem to like this place,” she admitted, “And…this place seems to like you.”

He shrugged as casually as possible, but his eyes widened a bit at this observation. His adaptive nature wasn’t something he lingered on for too long. She seemed to be speaking more to his sociability than anything else, though, which didn’t exactly belong on the list of topics he was open to discussing with her. The temporary company often presented to him after a late-night drinking or standing patrol never felt like an affection that would tie him to this planet, but perhaps she saw it differently. It was strange to him that she even noticed it at all, though.

“It’s not half bad here,” he said, “The locals are nice.”

She laughed softly at his choice of wording, earning a sideways glance from him as he asked, “What?”

“I’m sure they’re more than nice. To you, at least.”

“I still don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Oh, come on,” her eyes bore into his, timid despite her words, “You don’t hear the way they talk about you? The women, I mean—”

“Don’t go there, Harper,” he warned, lowering his voice with a flare of embarrassment heating his face and chest for a reason he didn’t understand.

“I’m just saying. You’ve grown kind of popular.”

“It’s nothing special. Besides, I’d rather not talk about my sex life with my CO, if that’s alright with you.”

He sounded a bit sarcastic to take the weight off the moment, but Sage still sensed the tension in his rigid body lingering like the aftertaste of a stolen kiss she had never experienced. Howzer, on the other hand, knew more about life than he gave himself credit for. His agreeable spirit was just easy to clamor around, hence why he attracted the attention of many kinds of social groups here on Ryloth. There was no doubt this evolved into individual, more interpersonal interactions that Sage sometimes heard rumors about. It was just girl talk, like immature swooning and whispering whenever he passed them along the streets. She was always right by his side, as his commander and nothing more, so she caught every reaction in the background. And she’d never miss the charming smile he’d flash in return to everyone looking at him.

“We’re friends,” Sage pointed out as she curled her body inward a bit to get more comfortable, “Don’t be embarrassed.”

He shifted a bit in his seated position so that he was leaning back against the rock formation they had chosen as their place of rest for the night. She could tell that he wanted to lie down, but he was exercising an unnecessary amount of self-control that prevented him from doing so.

“I’m surprised you’re not,” he eventually said through an exhale as he tipped his head all the way back with closed eyes.

Sage’s eyes darted toward his throat, which was slightly visible where his blacks didn’t reach from under his armor. She felt a bit guilty for staring, but it wasn’t the simple act of tracing her eyes over his figure that provoked such visceral agony inside of her. This rebellion—this divergence from her vows as a Jedi—clogged any response that was swallowed back down to her stomach because it was wrong to look at him in this way. Perhaps any way. But she couldn’t help it, nor could she stop. She didn’t understand the warmth that pooled in her lower half every time he was near, and there was no controlling the desire to attach herself to his side at all costs. Everywhere he was, she wouldn’t be too far to follow. Maybe that made her more of a pest than anything else—like a sickness that couldn’t be cured—but it didn’t matter. She felt safe in the solace of her attachment to him, other than the question of whether or not that diminished her quality as a Jedi. Her elders would never understand her either way.

“Howzer, I have a bad feeling about tomorrow,” she blurted out.

He smoothed a hand over his face before opening his eyes to look at her again. “When do you not have a bad feeling about anything?”

Her lips parted as their gazes collided, pausing her response. Eventually, she said, “You feel it, too. The fear.”

“Yeah? What else?” His voice suddenly sounded closer even though neither of them had moved. It was lower and deeper like he had saved the tone just for her. She almost believed they were elsewhere—not in this desolate valley, but in a place more private and intimate.

“Harper.”

She snapped her gaze away at this, refocusing on the sky as she inhaled deeply. “You don’t think this is right. Attacking the garrison tomorrow.”

Recalling his conversation with Cham earlier, he grimaced a bit. “I still think it’s reckless—not as time-sensitive as the general thinks it is. But trying to talk him out of it didn’t work.”

“And now we have to lead all of those men into a fight we’re not prepared for?” Sage whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear, “Don’t you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Cham’s hard to convince. Did you want to give it a shot?”

“You know I don’t stand a chance.”

The captain sighed, relaxing his furrowed eyebrows that were always so expressive of Sage’s point of view. “It’s our job to see this through. Bad feeling or not.”

“What about protecting them?” She cast a glance at the soldiers in the distance before looking at Howzer again.

He followed her eyes and let them pause on his brothers, who were still laughing and chattering around the fire. Their faces were illuminated between the flickers of the orange flames, all similar but also different. He thought about his own face—his scars that set him apart from the next trooper. Some of them had tattoos for further distinction. Others were just bare—they were probably young rookies with no idea how far their training would take them. Above everything, though, none of them could be protected from the very thing they were destined to become.

“That’s unfair,” was all he replied so quietly she almost didn’t hear.

A pang of guilt shot through her chest when she caught the pain in his expression. It seemed that she could never say the right thing. Not in a briefing room with the Council, not during a mission with her squad that was more Howzer’s than anyone else’s, and certainly not in a conversation with the only person she felt entirely comfortable being herself. There were times when she just felt like a mistake, an error from all of the confusing emotions that dizzied her brain like an irreversible spell nobody could figure out. Aayla always taught her balance, but Sage experienced life like a tipping scale. On one side or the other, she was always too heavy or too light for her own good. Never just right.

“I know,” she acknowledged, “I’m sorry.”

He pursed his lips, silent for a few moments before saying, “Get some sleep.”

She bit the inside of her cheek while turning on her side, already feeling the weight of her fatigue catching up to her closing eyes. But still, it took longer than expected for her to actually fall asleep. Once she did, though, her mind quieted into the dreams that never left her thoughts even while she was awake. As noisy as they were, she wouldn’t trade them for the explosions and screaming she experienced throughout this war so far. Aayla always made an appearance one way or another, speaking in that soothing voice that used to talk to her every day at the Temple. Now, Sage was lucky to receive a call. The padawan understood that her master had other responsibilities, given her rank as a general now, but she so desperately wanted to be together again. Master and apprentice. That was all.

But then she might have never met Howzer. Was that a worthy trade-off? The question emerged when she woke after just an hour of peaceful dreaming—no tossing and turning this time around. The conversations by the fire had stalled into a quieter exchange as more troopers seemed to have gone to bed. She sensed that most if not all of them were still awake, just pretending to get the shuteye that was impossible to maintain with the anxiety in their stomachs. When she turned over on her other side, she was startled to find herself face-to-face with her captain’s sleeping form. His helmet rested between them like a barrier, but she still had a full view of him from the shoulders up. As dark as it was, every line and crease along his skin was visible to her perception. She could even see his scars—one on his cheek, the other on his chin. The memory of how he received both of them never faded with those markings.

The wavy part of his hair had fallen toward his forehead just a little, slightly messy from his position. He was also on his side like her, but nowhere near as peaceful. She sensed his restlessness—could see it, too, under those eyes that would bunch together in split seconds quicker than the shooting stars above their bodies. Watching him inhale and exhale, she wondered when he had decided to sleep. Was it soon after her? Was it just a few minutes ago? She didn’t know.

A few minutes passed with her just curiously staring at his face while keeping her hands drawn to her chest. The breeze picked up around them, flowing through her hair that she moved aside to clear her vision. She surprised herself when she reached forward to do the same for him, just tentatively pushing his hair back like she had done a few times out of bold tenacity she hardly exhibited on the battlefield (where such a quality truly mattered). His hair felt soft as always, making it hard for her to pull away. So, she didn’t. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, exactly—she had never really touched a man anywhere—but she knew she was enjoying this.

“You’re a good soldier, Howzer,” she whispered to him, “I hope you know that.”

It didn’t take long for her to slip into her dreams again, letting her hand fall toward his cheek. She fell asleep cupping his scarred skin, unintentionally protecting it from the outside world as if she didn’t want any more harm to come to him. They were closer than before when they had just settled into the camp, barely separated by his lone helmet. She didn’t know that soon after she had closed her eyes, he opened his.

“I know, Sage.”

Chapter Text

PRESENT

Sage hated running. She could never bear the tightening feeling in her chest whenever she neared a loss of breath or the sound of her footsteps thundering in her ears. Her usually steady heart raced with adrenaline and fear as she and Howzer tore through the empty streets, hand in hand like nothing had ever changed between them. It seemed they were together in arms once again. Despite her discomfort as her legs began to wear out, Sage was fast. If it wasn’t for the fact that she didn’t know where they were headed, she would have been ahead of him. She just didn’t know she was capable of that.

The two of them quickly reached a particular junkyard toward the edge of the city where the buildings looked a lot lower than what surrounded the main streets. She almost didn’t notice when he let go of her hand to hurry forward, disappearing around the corner without so much as an exhale. Catching her breath, Sage braced her hand against the nearest wall and swallowed hard as the dryness in her throat became more than a feeling. It tasted bitter like the deja vu swirling in her head and leaving her dizzy. The last time she had run for her life like this was when her own battalion chased her through Felucia after killing her master. That was also the last time she felt this ablaze, like she was set on fire and expected to survive. It was a complete turnaround from her usual sneaking around with Amaryllis, but Sage had abandoned that herself when she chose to come to Daiyu searching for a ghost she was convinced she could find.

“Harper!”

The padawan blinked, realizing she was out in the open all alone. Moving toward the direction of Howzer’s voice, she found him dragging a rickety speeder out from under a sheet in this dark alleyway. He only looked at her and beckoned for her to get on with a nod, to which she responded with a cautious step back.

“We don’t have time for this,” he told her in that familiar tone he always used when he was annoyed with her.

“It’s too small for both of us,” she shook her head while watching him swing his figure over the seat, “Besides, I can’t leave this place yet—“

“I don’t think you want to stick around with Imperials on your ass—“

“Whose fault is that? I’m not the one who shot them!”

“What else was I supposed to do?” He retorted before sighing and running a hand through his hair, “Look, we can argue about this later. Just get on.”

Sage pursed her lips and stole a glance at the street behind her, just barely making out a squad of stormtroopers in the distance. Her thoughts had been centered on the dream that brought her here and the person she was looking for, but all of that dissipated when she met Howzer’s eyes. The scarred side of his face was illuminated by a green signpost overhead that seemed to be flickering from an inconsistent power source. His posture straightened at her eye contact as he held out his hand a bit, briefly curling his fingers in a “come here” motion. Only a split second passed before his arm dropped to his side in anticipation for her next decision. Both of them knew she could turn tail and run at this moment, never to be heard from ever again. She had yet to fully catch her breath, though.

“You better know what you’re doing,” she muttered while stalking toward him.

“Don’t you trust me?”

The question was asked lightly with a casual tone Howzer didn’t want her to take seriously. But in the back of his mind, he truly wondered this. After all that had happened, it was no wonder she was suddenly intolerant to his offered support. No, not just that. His mere presence. He wasn’t sure why this truth seemed to hurt him.

Don’t you trust me, Sage?

The former padawan exhaled and rested her hands on the captain’s shoulders as she took a seat behind him. His question sounded in her mind like a reverberating echo that sent all sorts of strange sensations through her heart. She felt constricted all of a sudden—suffocated. But also safe, like she was taking a real breath of air for the first time. Her hands moved lower toward his waist where she wrapped her arms completely around him, clutching onto him for dear life even though they hadn’t started moving yet.

“Well, now I have to,” she answered in that cold tone he still didn’t recognize but needed to get used to at this point.

Despite this, he didn’t miss how she rested the side of her head against his back as they sped away from the city where his ship was parked. He suspected that she was closing her eyes and feeling the wind against her face rather than thinking about anything at all. Her arms kept tightening around him over the course of their trip, leaving him struggling for air even though the true pressure of her embrace wasn’t that strong. He could only think that his body was exaggerating the effects of this situation they had been in multiple times before, just under different circumstances. Riding a speeder with her in the backseat wasn’t foreign to him. But this feeling wasn’t completely foreign either.

He clenched his jaw and squeezed his fists around the handlebars, hardly realizing that he was accelerating. His mind was too busy trying to empty itself of the past before it could come back and bite him. It wasn’t until she lurched forward a bit that he was startled back to reality. Her hips collided with his backside abruptly, but she didn’t react aloud or ask him to slow down. She just remained quiet until they reached his ship, which was a lot farther from the city than she anticipated. Did he walk all the way there just to find her? There couldn’t have been any tossed out speeders nearby at his disposal. Not around here.

“Stop spacing out,” he suddenly said.

She looked up and saw that he was now standing, holding out his hand to help her off the speeder.

“Where are we going?” She asked warily, slipping her hand into his just to regain her footing. Once she was on level ground, she let go and palmed the side of her bag to ensure everything was still in there.

“We’ll figure it out once we get out of here,” he replied, already walking up the ramp and leaving the speeder behind.

Her response didn’t follow until after they were in the cockpit together. She remained standing as he sat down in the pilot’s seat, quickly maneuvering them into the atmosphere. Both of them seemed to hold their breath until they made it to hyperspace, not expecting this escape to be as easy as it was. They were gone as fast as they arrived, quiet with the exception of the two stormtroopers left dead in the alleyway in which they were almost caught. Sage could only assume that this was a regular occurrence for Howzer at this point, given his direct involvement with a growing movement against the Empire. He always did know how to do the right thing.

“We’re on our way to Pantora now. You can decide where you’ll go from there.”

She wrinkled her nose, not looking at him as she sat in the copilot’s seat. “If you hadn’t come looking for me and made a mess—“

“You shouldn’t be traveling alone,” he interrupted.

He turned his head toward her when she didn’t respond, sighing with an unmistakable exhaustion creeping into his tone. “If you’re not going to ride with us, that’s fine—at least stick with someone. Amara. You two seemed to have worked something out at this point.”

“If I found Master Quinlan on Daiyu,” she replied absentmindedly, “I wouldn’t have been alone.”

This came as a surprise, prolonging a pause of silence that Sage took as an opportunity to steady her breathing. Her attention was numb to his question, which asked, “You were looking for another Jedi?”

She drew her knees toward her chest before letting her forehead drop down against them. Her bag slumped to the ground in the process, but Howzer wasn’t paying attention to its slightly visible contents. His focus was on her and the dejection radiating from her tired spirit. She was always calm but lively, which is why she was difficult to look at right now. Even the curly plume of her hair appeared more flattened and tame than usual—not naturally free like the way he once secretly admired. The end of the war—The Empire—had sucked all that made her feel alive. He knew what that was like.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said in a muffled tone, “If he was really there I probably would’ve found him already.”

Casting his eyes in front of him where he could see the rushing blur of hyperspace beyond the ship’s dirty windows, Howzer frowned at the realization that she would rather search for someone who might not even be alive than accept his guaranteed help. This proved to him that he might as well be dead to her, even though he was sitting right here. No, worse than dead. Forgotten.

“Your dreams always end up meaning something,” he reassured her absentmindedly.

This took her back to the time when she always told him about her visions, whether or not they came to her in her sleep. It only made sense that he understood her thought process, even though she didn’t want him to. Her guilt would lessen if he just wasn’t so perfect, so good to her. Because hatred was unfortunately so easy. There was something cruelly simple about this anger boiling deep inside of her—not just toward him but to anyone that reminded her of what she lost. And it was this feeling that taught her one final lesson she would learn from the Jedi: that it was much harder to condemn her own malice than that of others. She always heard stories of how people corrupted themselves with their rage, but none of that education would prepare her for her own undoing.

“I’m tired,” she sighed, not really directing this declaration to him. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to be alone.

But he responded nonetheless. “There’s a bed in the back.”

Yours? She wanted to ask. It felt strange to consider occupying a space he used at his most vulnerable state. Sleeping was intimate, regardless of what anyone else told her. Her own point was proven when she immediately sensed his presence in the bunk he was talking about—a small mattress attached to the wall where there was little room for anything else. It was on the complete other side of the ship, leaving the most amount of space between her and her former captain. He stayed at the front, in the cockpit where he would remain until he wondered if she had fallen asleep. She spent more time breathing in his vague scent than succumbing to her fatigue, but she appeared unknowing and unconscious when he finally approached her. Supposedly just to see if she had gotten comfortable. Definitely not to look at her for as long as he wanted without being met with the blossoming hatred in her eyes.

Definitely not.

He stood in the doorframe for a bit, observing the way her body curled around her bag like a measure of protection. She was never ever possessive about her belongings during the war, always one to criticize material desires. Greed, in other words. The stronger you want something, the less likely you are to have it. That was a word of advice she once gave him, but he never gave her words much thought until now. Maybe he just never wanted anything in particular until now. But what did he want? For the Empire to be gone, as one. For his brothers—any clone—to be free as he was now.

And for her to forgive him, even though he had nothing to apologize for. Not to her, at least. 

“What?” Sage muttered, cutting through the silence.

Startled but unsurprised that she knew he was there without opening her eyes, Howzer stared at her silently. He was tired, too. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to say that. She exhaled, and the sound was shaky, but her movements were definitive as she rolled over to make more room on the already small space. It couldn’t even be considered a bed, he realized now that he was looking at it. He wouldn’t have minded being told to leave. That would have been easier, if anything. Because now, he was thinking she should have just denied this offer since he couldn’t himself.

He would just rest for twenty minutes. That was all the time he wanted to give himself as his back lightly pressed against hers, encasing their bodies in each other’s distant warmth. They didn’t look at each other once, supposedly sleeping away their exhaustion as the ship continued through hyperspace while occasionally tipping from side to side a little. They didn’t touch. They didn’t speak. They hardly made a sound other than their own breathing.

They didn’t sleep, either. Not one wink.

Chapter Text

PRESENT

Sage had never woken up in someone else’s arms until today. She didn’t know what it was like to have her entire body pressed against another, bundled in warm strength that kept her still despite the bumps of hyperspace. Until today.

“Howzer?”

Her voice was quiet, still weak from her fatigue as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Not much time had passed since she fell asleep—just a little under an hour. She wished she could sleep for longer, but an incessant beeping from the cockpit drew her attention away from her dreams and back to reality. Old memories of her time in the Temple with Aayla faded into the background once again, burrowing themselves in the shelves where they belonged. As she shifted her weight in Howzer’s embrace, she tried not to look at him for fear of seeing something she left behind in her past. But when he pulled her closer, still asleep himself, she found herself face to face with a reminder of her naivety.

His eyes were closed and relaxed like his breathing, steady enough for her to follow without thinking much of it. Sage could feel the entire weight of his hand against the small of her back, fitting them together like an unfamiliar puzzle. She had slept beside him numerous times during the war, but none of those long nights by the fire ever escalated into this. There was always a line between them. It was drawn from the responsibilities of their ranks and the separation of their duties. The codes they followed. The same ones that didn’t exist anymore.

Blinking a few times, Sage waited for her former captain’s face to come into focus before touching the scar on his chin. She smoothed her finger over the rough surface just once, remembering the sharp pain that bled this wound. It was more difficult to resent him when he was like this—unaware and unflinching to the burdens he carried when he was awake. The lines cutting through his forehead were almost absorbed into his skin, hardly creasing from impatience or irritation. Until, at least, the beeping sound grew louder as it echoed through the corridors. Sage squeezed her eyes shut when she felt him wake up and turn over a little, placing some distance between their tangled bodies.

Her heart began racing upon hearing him groan quietly and sit up, seemingly waiting a beat before removing his arm from her waist. She knew he was watching her closely. Too closely. He mumbled a regretful curse under his breath as his fingers gently sifted through her hair that had fallen across her cheek, pushing the curls away only to let them tumble back right where they started. She didn’t recognize the odd feeling she sensed from his spirit—couldn’t pinpoint the right definition for such an emotion. It was heavier than guilt but softer than anguish, warming the cold goosebumps that pebbled her skin from under her loose and dirty clothes.

“Hey,” he cleared his throat and nudged her shoulder a little rougher than intended, “I’ll ask Riyo if you can take one of her rooms for the night or a few.”

Riyo, Sage repeated in her mind to herself. The Senator. Her name sounded light and easy on his tongue. Not anything like the burdensome weight he attached to something like “Harper.” 

“No,” Sage opened her eyes and stared up at him, “That’s okay. I’m okay.”

He cocked his head to the side a little, now sitting with his hand pressed into the mattress. The same hand that was just touching her. She sat up, too, bringing their faces level as she drew her knees under her chin. Avoiding his gaze, she stared at the faded teal line running down his chest plate while wondering why she felt so nervous all of a sudden.

“You need real allies,” he broke the silence, “You can’t just wander around alone. Not anymore.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but he noticed the frown tugging at her lips more than this gesture of exasperation. “Save your lecture.”

“It’s not a lecture if you’d just listen,” he argued before softening his tone and leaning closer, “I can help you find whoever you’re looking for. I want to help you.”

His low voice sent shivers down her spine as she flicked her round eyes toward his. “And I told you I don’t want that.”

He sighed and turned his head away. “I’d ask when you stopped trusting me, but I can’t even blame you.”

“Trust has nothing to do with this. I’m not your responsibility anymore.”

“You think I’m here because I feel responsible for you?”

Sucking in a breath, Sage palmed a nimble hand against his chest and pushed him back just enough for him to straighten his posture and lean away. Her fingertips touched his faded armor hesitantly but also firmly as if fighting the war inside of her head. The darkest parts of her hated him for a betrayal he never committed—not to her, at least. She didn’t know what the end of the war looked like on Ryloth, nor did she want to. Her nightmares from Felucia reminded her well enough of why she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes without that surge of violence resurfacing below her skin. He looked just like everyone else that day. Except he wasn’t at all the same as them. She knew this, which was why she feared her coiling desire to hurt him.

“I know you think you can help everyone,” she said softly, “But you can’t help me. Things are different now.”

He frowned and closed his eyes, unsure how to respond. They opened back up when he felt her hand move to the side of his face, cold and calloused from too much fighting. When he took it away and held it in his own, he was reminded that she didn’t have the skin of a soldier. They were always different in that way, he supposed.

“I’m just…” he tried to find the right words as his expression twisted in discomfort, “…worried about you.”

“You’re always worried about me.”

Somehow, he laughed at this. A flicker of warmth passed through their touching bodies, from him to her as she took this sound for herself.

“Can you blame me?” He asked, searching her gaze.

“No,” she shook her head, “It was your job, I guess.”

He appeared as if he didn’t know how to respond to this, but he didn’t need to. The beeping noise from the cockpit drew his attention away, growing louder with more urgency. They turned their heads at the same time before looking at each other in realization that it was time to leave this quiet room where the rest of the world couldn’t reach. He unraveled his hand from hers, laying it down in her lap gently as he stood to leave. She could’ve sworn she felt him squeeze for just a moment, but his touch was gone like his presence in the blink of an eye.

When she settled herself fully awake and joined him in the cockpit, she was a little startled to see a hologram casting a blue light across the controls. Feeling intrusive to this conversation, she lingered in the background and listened to Howzer’s steady explanation as to why he was “gone” for more rotations than he initially expected, apparently. She couldn’t help but think that he always sounded so convincing, exuding a type of confidence that made his rank so obvious. Even now, when he didn’t have a battalion to captain, he was still the leader she wished she could bring herself to rely on.

“You plan on hiding back there for the whole trip?”

Sage’s shoulders bunched together as she watched the transmission fade behind Howzer’s shoulders, wondering when she started to space out.

“He doesn’t sound particularly happy that you came looking for me,” she observed while moving forward to sit beside him.

“He’s not particularly happy about anything these days,” was all the captain responded.

“I don’t blame him.”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “I don’t either.”

She hesitated before telling him, “Howzer, I’d rather not go back with you if I’m just going to be a burden. Or a threat in some way.”

“You’re not.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Running into a little trouble with the Empire doesn’t bother me as much as not knowing where you are.”

He said this so casually that she almost didn’t feel the weight of such a confession. But she did, and her face warmed in response. Of course, it made sense that he believed this so honestly. Aayla had instilled this commitment into his mind since she sent her padawan to Ryloth—all alone and afraid. This was his responsibility, as she told him before. Nothing more than that. Just an old habit.

“I don’t know if I can help you fight,” Sage brought up.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he decided, “We’ll figure it out.”

He spoke with a resolve that unintentionally stole any doubt from her wavering breath. The rest of the trip to Pantora was silent as she replayed his promise in her mind. At this point, she was too tired of trying to figure this changing galaxy out with no guarantee of tomorrow. She was too tired to fight back, disagree, or do anything at all. She wanted nothing more than to return to her quarters back at the Temple, which she hadn’t been able to sleep in for years now (and never will ever again). The war had stolen this chance from her, and the Empire had destroyed it. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt at home, simply yearning for the family she needed to let go. In a way, this made her slightly envious of Howzer. His numbers were dwindling with loss, but “home” followed him for as long as his brothers did. What was left of them, at least.

But she knew better than to compare. So, she swallowed the bitter taste on her tongue and focused her gaze outside the window where hyperspace enveloped the ship in its dark gloom. She didn’t even remember falling back asleep in her seat or arriving on Pantora. The next time she opened her eyes, she found herself in a large bed as the moonlight streamed through the fluttering curtains. A gentle breeze tickled her skin from the slightly open window, quietly stirring her awake as she watched the night sky with a heavy heart.

The instinctive frown on her lips relaxed when she cast an observant glance across the room. It was spacious and grandiosely decorated, nothing like the Temple on Coruscant or the barracks on Ryloth. Oddly enough, some neatly folded clothes sat waiting for her on the armchair at her bedside. She was suddenly hyper aware of her own state of filth, which made her feel out of place under these heavy and warm blankets. They were much too clean and soft for her. Trying to run her fingers through the ends of her hair, she stumbled toward the bathroom and nearly blinded herself when the lights came on.

Everything was so bright and smooth, delicately porcelain and unfamiliarly expensive. Sage felt a prickling sense of shame as she filled the bathtub with warm water, but it was the only thing she wanted to do at the moment. Her mind was numb and empty as she stripped naked and sank down, trying not to look at any part of herself in the process. But the white scars all across her brown skin stood out so glaringly that she shut her eyes and wished she could fall back asleep again.

“Tell me what I should do,” she whispered even though she didn’t expect a response.

“I don’t know what to do,” she continued as her voice weakened from a sudden lump growing in her throat, “I just want to be with you.”

Silence. The former padawan couldn’t even feel the ghost of her master’s caress. The embrace she never gave her. She could only feel the infinite distance between them, as one remained in the living world while the other had already crossed the borderline. And still, Sage reached for her. She could only keep reaching, though, because she would never find what she was looking for ever again.

A sharp knock suddenly startled her fully awake. “Harper?”

Sage’s eyes widened as she whipped her gaze to the door. “Yeah?”

Howzer seemed to pause on the other side of the door, causing her to wonder if she was simply imagining his presence. It wasn’t until he spoke again, a little quieter than usual, that she realized he truly was standing right outside.

“You okay?”

She straightened her back a little, embarrassed to be caught like this even though he couldn’t see her through the walls. “I’m fine.”

When he didn’t respond, she added, “This is the senator’s home.” It wasn’t a question, but her tone sounded unsure to him.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “She’s not here right now, but she said you could stay…for as long as you need to.”

“She’s not here?”

“No. She’s on Coruscant.”

Sage chewed on the inside of her cheek before asking, “So…it’s just us tonight?”

A soft chuckle sounded from the other side, seeping under the cracks of the doorway. “Uh-huh. Just us.”

When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “Plenty of rooms to go around. You can have this one.”

Ignoring this obvious reference to what happened back on the ship, Sage absentmindedly wrung her hair out and replied, “Where are your brothers?”

She wasn’t sure if he could hear her over the sudden crescendo of dripping water from her soapy hair, but his silent pause seemed to be an opportunity to collect his thoughts rather than complete unawareness. Lost in the murky depth of her reflection as it collected the dirt from her skin and the shampoo from her hair, she felt grounded back to reality when he spoke again. His voice was always captivating like that, different even though he was engineered the same as his brothers. There was something uniquely rough and abrasive about it, but always gentle around her. Usually, her heartbeat would relax and her jaw would unclench upon hearing him talk to her. She still felt a bit jittery from before, though, as her body remembered what it was like to lay nestled in his embrace for that short moment.

“Somewhere else. I’m meeting them by the next rotation.”

“That soon?” She blurted out before she could stop herself. It made sense that he was leaving, and she didn’t even want him here. She didn’t want to be here. But it felt strange that they had to say goodbye again, just like that. It felt wrong.

“You’re welcome to come with me,” he reminded her gently.

When she didn’t reply, he exhaled and said, “Sleep on it. Let me know if you need anything,” with his departing footsteps. She waited for him to leave before draining the water, knowing he wanted her to travel with him regardless of whether or not she’d join his cause. When she was clean of the passage of time in the streets once again, she carefully left her designated room and tiptoed through the winding hallways. The senator’s home felt quite empty despite all of the paintings and ceramics Sage counted as she realized she was looking for Howzer. She didn’t even know what she would say to him when she found him.

His presence was a bit distant, though, which led her to believe he wasn’t in any of these rooms. The cool breeze from before blew through her damp hair as she exited the Senator’s manor, sending a momentary chill down her spine. Shivering, only dressed in a nightgown that fit her much better than she expected, she peered at his ship that was docked among the trees surrounding this property. The door was open with the platform stretched down to the floor, almost beckoning her to enter. So, she did, quietly and carefully like she was afraid to make her presence known. She found him in the same room as before, supposedly asleep again. Stepping through the pieces of his armor clattered across the floor, she approached the mattress and sat on the edge while trying not to wake him.

His hair was also wet and slick, resting against his forehead like a heavy weight. She suppressed the urge to push it back, but her hand raised toward his face nonetheless. It paused like a deer in headlights when he opened his eyes, frozen and unwavering as her words got stuck in her throat.

“Are you casting a spell on me?”

She lowered her hand into her lap. “Not how it works.”

“I know,” he cracked a smile, “Did you need something?”

Shaking her head, she shifted her body away from him and faced the doorway. He seemed to follow her as he sat up, stretching behind her before leaning into her backside. They weren’t touching, although close enough, but she could feel his proximity bearing down her neck like a reminder that he was still here. But she didn’t want to speak to him about anything in particular. She didn’t want to speak at all. So, instead of explaining herself, she exhaled almost painfully and rested her head on his shoulder. The movement was sudden but also tentative, for it was one she had never risked ever before. He stiffened when she pressed her weight against his a little more comfortably, only relaxing after inhaling a breath for himself. Neither of them was sure how long they would stay like this because they were both too busy convincing themselves that nothing had changed—not even their trust in each other. Perhaps that hadn’t truly broken, even though they both felt fragmented from all they had lost during their time apart.

But when a singular tear rolled down Sage’s cheek, dropping into her palm, she curled her fingers inward to let the moisture soak into her skin. Because her pain was her own, silent like all she wanted to tell him while not feeling able to do so.