Private No Reason

[Loske Treicolt]

Big Ship? // BRAXANT RUN, en route to HYDIAN WAY intersection back to THE CORE
Maynard Treicolt
// Holocene //
​

​

Bigger ships like this one tended to change the experience of time.

Loske had no idea how many hours it had been since they’d touched down in the hangar and clapped the shoulders of their comrades on the back after a valiant effort amid the Debris Shoal Zone above Dubrillion.

It was like stepping out of history into some small, separate universe. Traveling through the vacuum of space always gave her an irrational sense of peace on the brink of wellbeing. Even with all that was going on around them. They couldn’t affect anything. The worldview narrowed down to the people on the ship. Or in this instance, the people that weren’t but were supposed to be. Compounded with the empty space of where Ryv should have been, there’d been a void from the Vanguard squadron they couldn’t replace. People under their command. Under his command.

Vanguard-6’s fate had wrecked Vanguard-2. She hadn’t crawled out of her canopy until it fogged up, and only then she’d shakily joined the others on the ground. Everyone had hugged, said words of comfort, but she was inconsolable. Motivated by equal parts duty and care, Loske’d latched onto the woman and wandered with her to just listen. At least she could relieve that sense of responsibility from the wing commander. It had taken the better part of two hours until the Twi’Lek’s words had blurred together out of emotional exhaustion. Just short of tucking the emerald pilot in, Loske had taken her cue to leave.

She wanted to crawl into Maynard’s arms then and there and remind him how grateful she was that it hadn’t been him; but she reasoned he’d need some more time for duty.

"You guys either have it figured out, or you do a damn good job at making it seem that way,"

A brief reflection on that conversation drew a faint breath of amusement. The exhale born from the recognition of the prevailing struggle that fought duty, tooth and nail to prove that observation wrong. Maybe if they had it entirely figured it out she’d feel less hesitant about approaching a conversation. Or know where to start.

Maynard’s obvious exhaustion extended beyond the physical realm of tiredness. Sure, his bones might have been weary and fatigue stalked after him until it got the chance to conquer his consciousness. Moreso, he bore the treacherous burden of mental wear. Unlike Loske, who was happily second-in-command at best, he’d had to have the sharpness of mind to command squadrons. And provide the necessity of care and focus when one was lost. Good men and women under his command that fell to the enemy. He’d proven his mettle a thousand times over, but writing the notifications to next of kin probably never got easier. How often could someone say It was an honour to serve alongside.... until they no longer believed it? Or deftly typed it out, wholly desensitized? She wanted to give and give to him. Make it better somehow, but not in a way he’d feel doubted. The want to give him the chance to manage that was part of the reason she’d retreated into her own mind and not talked much, or at all, about Allyson’s last words. Those tasks that needed taking care of were a veil that helped disguise and distract from her unease.

For Maynard, in the hierarchy of loyalties, Ryv would win out. There was no reason to expect otherwise. She’d made that same decision on Borosk. He was relentlessly protective of those he loved and truthfully, she was worried about what he might say about her pathetic lack of conviction one way or the other. That he might perceive her as weak or foolish for having an ounce of wistful remorse on behalf of the traitor.

Maybe she was. She felt weak. Too weak to help the situation right itself. A lifeline too thin for Allyson to use for support to drag herself back.

I'm scared.
Am I the enemy?
Help me.

How was she supposed to help someone so lost? How could she feel right about making that choice? Was she qualified to make that decision beyond her own conscious, and act on behalf of The Alliance?

And Loske didn’t know if she wanted Allyson back. Or if she wanted to kill her. The war in her mind was as active as NIO’s pressure on The Sith Empire. Until she could choose, she was nervous to talk about it. Her opinions were loosely held and not fully formed and she was easily persuaded. What would Ryv want? How was he in all of this? The only parallel she could draw was how she or Maynard would react if they were in the Corellian and Kiffar’s shoes and she couldn’t sort it. It was an inconclusive comparison because she couldn’t imagine abandoning her lover. And he promised he’d never leave her behind.

"I wouldn't abandon you."

Thus she was stuck in a cycle of confoundment. In the battle of duty, principles, and emotions –– were there any common laws they obeyed in a fight?

Did you want to take the paint off, too?

The droid’s terse tone pulled her from her polemic introspection, and she looked down at her handiwork. One hand had been scrubbing at the burnt lacerations on her wing, and the other had been resting limply against her stomach. Reminiscent of where her blade had struck her friend. She’d felt the softness of Allyson’s tissue give way to her superheated weapon and that gasp of pain from her friend had been as frequent an echo on her psyche as the plea for help.

Her motorskills on cruise control had done a great job buffing out the carbonized skid marks from the explosion she’d cut through. So much so that Frank was right, she was about to start chipping the paint.

Defeated, she stopped and leaned back on her heels. “Ah –– no.”

You can probably call this done. The astromech reasoned.

Peeling her hands from the supplies, she nodded and wrung her hands with a cloth that’d eliminate traces of residue. This had been busywork. An activity that had little purpose other than buying more time for herself. Or him. She wasn’t sure which anymore, which only compounded the rationale to stop prolonging the inevitable.

The Saber rep ambled along with the ship’s foot traffic, making way for electric carts, droids, and exchanging small and polite courtesies along the way. Good people in Galactic Alliance uniforms. Good people who could be compromised if Allyson became a liability at the hands of the Sith. She didn’t think much about where she was going until she got there. The bond made such questions superfluous.

Her knuckle rapped once against the door, a notification that was to excess before it hissed open as an initial greeting between the pair.

It opened to a familiar sight. At least..familiar since the war had kicked into gear. A spartan bunk on an Alliance Service Vessel. No frills created with the intent to save space. Rectangular, with a refresher in the middle and a fold-out workstation sort of desk along the wall. Perhaps it could have served as a kitchenette with the right appliance placed on its surface. There was also a pull out bed. Still made. Sleep was fleeting since Borosk. How right Maynard had been to make those precious moments of reprieve count last time.

The wide viewport at the end of the cabin was one of the two sources of light. The glow of the hyperspace tunnel that cut through trillions of stars cast lines of light around the different outlines in the room. The second light was from the screen of the terminal.

The dimness of the room managed to match how she felt.

Greediness only satiated by closeness drove her to approach him instead of lingering around. From behind, she leaned over and slipped her arms over his shoulders and loosely locking her wrists at his chest. Keeping her eyes closed, not looking at the terminal lest she unwantedly intrude on something too private, she crooned into his neck mostly: “All that time and still no sleep?”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

O U T R I D E R
7 1 5 - C R ∑ ∑ K S

The helmet grasped in his right hand nearly trembled to the ground after pulled himself out and climbed down from the canopy of his starfighter. He could barely field their sentiment as soon as he emerged into the hangar bay. The pilots of Vanguard overwhelmingly coming to the Commander for an appraisal of their ability, questions of the result of the mission, the next orders. He managed a bright face, energetic interaction but in the end he was dragging his consciousness along. Twelve hours at the sticks was damning enough, to be mindful of the squadron of green rooks around him and the operation of the starfighter wing as a whole in such an unpredictable venue was toiling.

It must've been that intangible link between the two or that endless font of care and affection that drove Loske to console Sienn Vao, Vanguard 2. He wasn't sure if he could face her in the wake of being at the reins of command to her lover's death. They both knew it wasn't any of his fault, that they both mean't their best and completed their mission but even still it'd be a difficult encounter. He knew well he couldn't look in the eye of anyone who might have the blood of Loske on their hands. He understood that and knew when it was best to leave and slink back to their quarters.

<I'll see all the fix ups on your fighter get done and then...probably help Frank. Go relax somewhere. I myself am un-phased but I know twelve hours of time at the controls of a starighter is wearing for humans.> Buddy said in an...endearing? Manner to Maynard before the door hissed to a close behind him. Still in the confines of his blue flightsuit he sat down at the desk set aside in the quarters. Another wayward home, Though he shared these quarters with Loske, the lack of any meaningful time spent within it made it barely remarkable as any living area.

The terminal opened and a few flicks of the interface brought him to the holo-messenger. He began to input the next in many letters of condolences after dotting through another after action report.

​ // To the next of kin to 2nd Lieutenant Povrun Krodare , 'Vanguard 6' . It is with great sorrow that I write to inform you that Povrun was killed in action in an operation against the Sith Empire on the Braxant Run. Though my time with him in my wing was brief I can say in confidence he was a brazen spirit, a raging fire who went into the fray with an unbreakable passion in his heart and an unwavering care for his comrades. Were more of our fighting men and women just like him, the Sith Empire wouldn't be standing any chance. The mark he left on his Squadron and those he fought alongside is permanent, he'll stay with us forever. ​ ​ I'll never forget him because to us, to the Galactic Alliance... He was...and always will be, a hero. Whatever part you played in bringing him to us, in forging the man he became, thank you, for everything you did. //​ Commander Maynard Treicolt Galactic Alliance Defense Force​

It wasn't all too much longer after he'd finished the message before he heard the door to his quarters hiss open after a knock most polite announced the interloper's presence. He knew immediately who it was, for one of a few reasons. The main being, no one else would've bothered to come by here. No one else but her.

“All that time and still no sleep?”

"Wasn't really time for me to use to myself like that unfortunately." He said, glancing back to her behind weary eyes. Her deep blues caught his attention almost immediately. They always did, ever since they'd first met just to show how hopelessly in love with her even before they'd found that one reason to let it all unfurl between them. Reaching a hand up to clasp hers as he singularly focused on the terminal again, aimlessly tapping his finger on the 'enter' command to send the message through.

Slowly standing up from the chair, running a hand atop of one of hers before he turns to face her he went to pull her into his arms, offering out a shuttered breath of weariness before pulling back to clasp a hand around the side of her neck and pull her into a hungry, well needed kiss. He needed that touch, that closeness after so long in the fire. She might've been with him all the same but space between them and the emptiness of the sterile comms left a void between them only mitigated by the thin tether of the force connecting them.

He eased from that warm embrace of lips only to shift his gaze back to hers as he let a hand caress along her cheek.

"Feelin' alright? It's been...it hasn't been easy lately and- shit's been going by real fast." He mustered with strained words.

"I didn't ever think it'd just be us now, in the fight but...here we are." The Concordian mused.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Wasn't really time for me to use to myself like that unfortunately."

It was the first thing she’d heard from him after Dubrillion, where it was just the natural accented voice, unadulterated by the modulation of their comms system.

The reality of his response wasn’t chiding, just factual. She probably should have known better despite the hope she had for him to maintain some sort of normalcy. It didn’t seem to matter how much time they had between entanglements, there was always something to do. Briefings, strategies, training, etcetera, the responsibilities didn’t leave much room for self-care. Sometimes they’d just be in silence, with only elbows or knees touching while they reviewed some sort of dossiers that had been passed through, or reviewing flight hours and results from the team. It was concentration to duty that prevailed over the past few months. It was like a daze they moved through, and she often felt herself fade back into programmed expectations. Meanwhile, Maynard’s potential had been actualized through grit, talent, loyalty and based on his response: Sacrifice. It took time to craft the articulation of loss, and the sound of the chime sending the message out confirmed he’d probably put a lot of care into the words someone would receive.

A remorseful but accepting hmm was murmured while he shifted around to collect her up into his embrace.

Her appetite for affection verged on desperation, and she curved into him to match his enthusiasm. The large ship that removed all sense of time disappeared around them and there was nothing but her and him. They immediately folded in on each other, full of feeling. All they’d struggled for, dreamed of, was threatening to fail. They’d come together from opposite ends of a wasteland of emotional isolation; Loske covetous of friendship, loyalty and fearing anything about loneliness and Maynard so much on the other end of the spectrum that he’d operated in isolation for the better part of his life. Cold to comfort. And somehow, somewhere in that chasm, they’d found a shady place where the two could huddle, grow and even feel nourished. Eventually the need for air triumphed over the need for closeness and he initiated the question that threatened the burgeoning complexities within her.

Loske tucked her lips together to prevent a knee-jerk response from slipping through. Her initial reaction was to deflect and reassure his concern. The usual no, no I’m fine, how are you? But his observation was right on the nose. So much had happened, and it had happened so quickly. There was time to speak to each other through it all, but the space to spend time and truly talk and check-in with the other were limited.

"Feelin' alright? It's been...it hasn't been easy lately and- shit's been going by real fast."

“No, not really.” She sighed honestly, sinking against him as she felt stoicism slip away. Defeated. Vulnerability would prevail, and she was eager to have him help re-sort her perspectives. Or at least gain one, or come to terms with everything. Or just stop drowning in confusion and get enough strength to crawl back to the shores of sanity. She averted her gaze from being held hostage to his autumnal tones. The nonexistent space between them captured her stare instead. “Nothing really feels alright.”

Fast, as if things going slower would make it easier to break things down. Perhaps it would, and she wouldn’t have to barf up everything on her mind.

Foerost was one thing, it’d been painful –– she’d felt him slip into nothingness. Like something evil had snapped their fingers and snuffed his ethereal touch. She’d been bitten by a mutated creature. It was hardly worth blinking an eye over in contrast to the shocking void the pair had felt where the other should have been. They’d made it through that, though she was certain he was still mysteriously plagued by something that was difficult to articulate. Resolution was not met.

The loss at Borosk, on all scales, had been wretched. From their allies’ perspective, an important resource had been lost. To the Galactic Alliance, a resource had been lost as well. On a significantly smaller scale. And one had been impaired; hospitalized. After Borosk, she’d felt the consequences of Allyson cutting her ties. A result of her letting things go and it scared Loske. It worried her to think about why the Corellian would do that, and what she was becoming; other than a growing liability.

The reality of time passed meant they’d have to compartmentalize the conversation, tease through reactions to each thing bit by bit. Only talk about the priorities? She couldn’t rank them in her mind; they were all important.

"I didn't ever think it'd just be us now, in the fight but...here we are."

The musing hit her like an A-A5 speeder truck.

There was a sort of sad irony to their friends abandoning them, one by choice and the other by mortal circumstances. There were still times she felt guilty for wanting to leave them, and now when he said so plainly it was just them still in the fight she could scarcely come to terms with it.

There was a bittersweetness to having arrived at this place in the future, seeing how things turned out, without being able to go back and speak to her past self. To talk to that girl on The Renegade who’d wanted to run away. If she could, would she have told her to do it? Allyson and Ryv would be out of the fight anyway; she’d still be the one to watch impotently and everything would fall on you both and it would get worse. Perhaps it was a good thing there was futility to the want of gogoing back and twisting reality to suit her gluttony.

“I mean, buckle up. There’s..so much going on.” She wished she cared less. The hold she had on herself was tenuous, so much so that she gave her internal ruminations and contemptuous sound, but not before she gave a small kiss at the corner of his mouth and moved away from him, plunking on the edge of the bed and spreading her fingers to count through them.

“Between you, Ryv, Allyson, Lanik…..I guess a little bit of Amea, there's a lot of losses going on. More than territory and resources, it’s..Things are starting to get messy.” Her fingers laced together now, fretting about one another and wringing before they collapsed in her lap and she looked at him with sunken shoulders. She should have been more peppy. More reassuring. But she couldn’t find it within to parade that façade; she wasn’t that good of a liar. One knuckle found its way between her teeth, a nervous tick when she was overwrought.

“And on top of it all, you’re..well, you’re in your element out there, but you had to come collect Ryv when I couldn’t protect him...when..” her voice croaked, and she quickly abandoned that dovetail of a conversation -- getting back to her focal point. Him. “That’s too many battles where you’ve had to clutch someone almost corpse-like..” she flopped backwards on the bed now, staring up at the ceiling with an anxious huff. Hands covered her eyes. “And we still don’t really know what happened on Foerost other than it was bad, that lack of resolve and just carrying on I..I’m scared something’s going to happen. Something worse and I can’t imagine it, which means I can’t stop it and I just..it’s all kind of feeling a bit helpless.”

For a few seconds, she let herself wallow - retracing the stream of consciousness she’d just barfed out. There was still so much to say; mostly around the perplexity of Allyson’s choice.

She straightened, sitting back up again while both hands moved in sync to tuck her hair behind her ears. Attentively: “How are you? I..I can't imagine writing to the next of kin being a non-taxing obligation.”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

He knew exactly what she meant in all her sentiment. Suppose it was what drew them together to begin with, among the everything else that did. He listened, he'd been good at that at least if nothing else. He could only nod along with her sentiment, as miniscule of a gesture it felt in the shadow of death, toil and suffering that bared down over them in the wake of this miasma of pain. While they'd been fortunate enough to be barely scathed between the two of them, it was just everyone else. That hardly made it better. They could join eachother in embrace as they worked to patch up the wounds of the other, they couldn't do the same for Ryv, Allyson or anyone else.

He joined her on the bed, taking one of her hands into his own as he caressed his thumb along the back of her hand, letting her lay back and wallow if only for the few brief moments it took her to voice the existential sorrow. His sentiment wasn't all too different and thus let her echo it in the mutual interest of both of them.

And on top of it all, you’re..well, you’re in your element out there, but you had to come collect Ryv when I couldn’t protect him...when..”

“That’s too many battles where you’ve had to clutch someone almost corpse-like..”

“And we still don’t really know what happened on Foerost other than it was bad, that lack of resolve and just carrying on I..I’m scared something’s going to happen. Something worse and I can’t imagine it, which means I can’t stop it and I just..it’s all kind of feeling a bit helpless.”

Those words coloring Loske in the shades of the same self-doubt she found him in when they'd first coallesced was what pained him more than anything else. It wasn't any of her fault, she did all she could for him, for Ryv, for everyone else. He could never doubt the care she'd put unto those closest to her, the echo of his own tribulations made him frown with the realization. Just as the realization of her comparing to Ryv's nigh death on Borosk to her own on Muunilinst.

“How are you? I..I can't imagine writing to the next of kin being a non-taxing obligation.”

"I'm not much better than you but...we just...we just gotta hang in there." Maynard said, as she sat back up he'd wrap an arm around her, pulling her as close as he could to him abiding by the sense that she could use- no, needed the contact. The closeness, the warmth, the care. He'd be damned if he wouldn't provide her all the care she did unto him when he was in tears too many times than he'd care to. But what could he ever do to help it?

"Can't live in fear like that. I did for too long...it was what took me so long to ever find the courage to...tell you, tell you how I feel. Just can't- I- sure, maybe we could've done it all over differently or better but it doesn't matter once its all already happened...we just- we just gotta make it through, we can't trust anyone else to. I've learned that the hard way too many times but...between the two of us? We'll figure it out." After all, themselves was all he could do good in trusting anymore. Everyone else had proved him wrong far too many times than he'd care to. He'd fight for them all the same but it always came down to her in the end.

"It's alright though...Borosk...I don't know, my cousin said it was a tough fight and...Allyson left us, Ryv almost died but the New Imperials are a tough people, they'll get it back just like it's looking like we have the upper hand on Dubrillion. That means we're not far from Bastion and maybe after that...we'll finally be able to lay low for a little bit. I don't know...but shit, no one can't say we haven't done our part." Maynard admitted. It'd be a tough fight to leave behind. Bastion...might mark the end but all the same that wouldn't be all she wrote for the Sith Empire, nor would that magically make the Bryn'adul disappear. They were Jedi, which mean't they were expendable and that work would never really be done. It might've been selfish to speak in terms of just the two of them but in the end, it was all they could count on.

"I don't care really...whatever's best for you, I just wanna do that. Genuinely. If you're happy, I'd doubt ever be that far behind. We gotta finish this fight, even if its just the two of us in the end, I don't care. Whatever happens in between...all that matters is that we make it out." Maynard says with conviction. It didn't feel good to mouth it out so clearly. That she or them was all that mattered to him but if he prevailed through the long crusade against the darkness and she wasn't there to see the end of it all with him? Pointless.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

All of her nervous frettings abated when he put his hand on hers. There was a grunt of objection starting in her belly, but it got no further than her throat and she hem’d it away.

Maynard Treicolt 's tone was reassuring and alluded back to the future they objectified. While he spoke, she leaned into him and listened. The words were like external ledges she could grip onto to help climb the mental mountain building in her mind. She clung to each syllable, letting them enwrap her in something more hopeful and glimmering rather than the tempest warring around from all the ghosts and voices in her brain. With joined hands, she let her fingers speak idly to his in aimless movements and strokes, squeezing when he said they’d figure it out between the two of them.

Don’t cry over spilled blue milk, and keep the trust to themselves. She clenched her eyes shut and shuddered heavier against him. Trust was a cataclysmic thing now. This lesson had been learned several times over for the Concordian, but bleeding heart Matson was going through her first lesson. And it was dragging her through the mud. Her entirety was a vessel of trust and care, soul and heart, and to have it rejected and exploited felt hollowing. If she didn’t have Maynard’s gentle consolation to fill her back up she might be well everlastingly drained. Their happiness was contingent on the others. Why had she felt so apprehensive about approaching him with this? There was nothing but affection behind his words. Silly head games.

“Don’t worry,” she murmured, lacing her fingers into the spaces between his “I’m not going to pull out of this until we get your home back. Or..the other part of our deal. ” Another reason. Beyond the one. “I’ve stopped looking for a way out. But..” she exhaled heavily, drawing her legs up from dangling over the edge of the mattress to tuck beneath her, only knees overlapping with him.

“Normally everything you just said would be all I’d need to hear.” She tried not to respond unjustly to his reassurances. There was conviction behind it that was so focused it at least gave her reassurance that he wasn’t inundated with distractions and conflicts in his brain. The goals were succinct. Clear was kind.

“It’s not just my fear. Allyson and Ryv’s they-- they were both in my head when it happened.” Loske admitted, her tone sad. “I— on Borosk I felt Allyson’s genuine confusion. She got lost. She became Rae. I couldn’t hurt her, I couldn’t bring myself to do it and if I could have been stronger maybe Ryv would have been okay. But I wasn’t. Her words they’re,” she rocked back, flicking her eyes up at the ceiling. The first burst was exasperated before she delved into the explanation: “Stars –– they’re in my head all the time. Ryv’s pain and shock and anger at himself. Her questioning who she was, if she was the enemy, and to help her. Both of them. Whatever I'm doing. Trying to sleep? They're there. Talking to you? They're there. It's like a plague.

I don’t know what to do. They put a burn notice out on her, and I found her diary and it’s all..she’s a mess and there’s part of me that wants to kill her myself and another part that just...” she crumpled, putting her elbows on her knees and covering her mouth, looking away in thought and keeping the end of her sentence trapped behind her palm.

"What do you think?

I know she’s an incredible liability, and I want to help her but I’m so mad at her too. For..for what she did.

When she first admitted to liking Ryv I told her to be careful, to take care of him and then she just –– I don’t know. I can’t know, I don’t know what it’s like to be so deep in a lie that you can’t see the truth anymore. Or you adopt a new truth. But I do know what it’s like to have partial memories, or ones that you force yourself to believe and that’s overwhelming, and now she’s out there snipping all her ties to the past. I have no idea what that means for her or for all the work she's done. Who she's trying to become."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

Not that he ever really had the answers, but he certainly didn’t here. With Allyson, Ryv, any of that. Variables far out of either of their control or understanding. Coming from the background he did, he wanted to have all the answers and be the protector for her but...he simply didn’t and simply couldn’t. It was a nauseating cycle of guilt that stirred within him and one he couldn't do much of anything about.

To hear though that she wouldn't try and wrench them away when everything they'd fought for needed them both was reassuring. Even if it was moments like this which made him realize and made him want that flowery dream they'd always pontificated between the two of them. They certainly wouldn't have to be dealing with many problems outside of their control, only doing what was best by them.

"What do you think?

I know she’s an incredible liability, and I want to help her but I’m so mad at her too. For..for what she did.

When she first admitted to liking Ryv I told her to be careful, to take care of him and then she just –– I don’t know. I can’t know, I don’t know what it’s like to be so deep in a lie that you can’t see the truth anymore. Or you adopt a new truth. But I do know what it’s like to have partial memories, or ones that you force yourself to believe and that’s overwhelming, and now she’s out there snipping all her ties to the past. I have no idea what that means for her or for all the work she's done. Who she's trying to become."

"I don't know either. I'm not its something anyone but her really knows about. I've been who I've been my entire life, hasn't changed at all, I can't imagine living how she has...like that. I-...I wish I could give you the answer on it, pave that quick and ready path to pull her and us out of this but...I can't. It's just- I think the best we can hope for is to get her back, maybe try and take her to someone who might know more about this than us. Because I'm just not sure the two of us, Ryv or really anyone else can really help her as it is unfortunately." Maynard admits solemnly. But it was the hard truth, searing in all its heavy implications.

"It makes me feel like shit that I just- I can't help, aside from trying to force her to come back to us...if that would even do anything. It makes me feel- makes me feel weak, like I'm not protecting your or Ryv or Allyson like I should be able to when you all need me..." The Concordian said, wrenching down on that inkling of self doubt that still kept within him. Or perhaps it was more the weight of obligation, that feeling the responsibility of the deaths and tribulations of those under his direct and structured command translated to his friends. Unhealthy or not, it was the burden Maynard draw over himself, even if he had none of the answers.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She blinked when he suggested bringing her back, letting Allyson see someone professional. Save her. It was Loske’s first reaction, but the longer she ruminated on Allyson’s fate –– as if she had any right to be a decision maker in it –– the more she realized what a chaotic mess of danger Allyson’s compromisation meant.

Loske’d been created as meat for the machine. A weapon. She’d made herself faulty by forcing humanity, emotions and care into her work. And the sloppiness was starting to seep through the cracks.

Maynard had always been human. That was expected of him. Created out of more than scientific curiosity –– human curiosity. Love between two people, or at least some level of affection. Talking about his parents was a subject they didn’t tread too often. From a simple, honest background. Tenacious, loyal, fiercely protective. It wasn’t fair for her to inadvertently ask him to sort through all her mental duress. Everything that was going on. He was just as unqualified to come up with a solution as she was.

Or, that would have been a good excuse if he hadn’t given her the shadow of an answer. He couldn’t give her the complete one. Expecting him to do that was unfair and setting him up for failure. Asking anyone to look into her mind, pick through it and point out which was the avenue to pursue would be wrong –– she couldn’t have anyone but herself to blame in the end. It was a choice she would have to make. This was a realization that transcended how Loske had to operate. It was something Allyson had to do too. Perhaps the only way she could be saved. For her to choose how she wanted to. To spend time thinking about what it was she wanted, and not act so reactively. If she wanted Ryv, she’d go full force into that. If she wanted… for a moment Loske clamped her lips shut, grinding her molars..if Allyson wanted that Echani, she could operate smoothly with the space to think about it. If they brought her back...maybe she could…. Her thought was derailed when Maynard admitted how he felt and her heart joined her broken mind.

He had saved Ryv, protected him when she couldn’t. If Maynard hadn’t so readily met them in the aftermath of the betrayal, the Sword might well be dead.

“Hey,” she interjected, placing her hands on either side of his face so he might fixate only on her solemn expression. “You saved Ryv’s life.” When I couldn’t. Her chest fluttered with the memory of failure, but kept that pocketed for now. Keeping focused on trying to keep Maynard from entrenching himself in that horrible purpose he damned himself with. The purpose that everyone he commanded looked for him to posture with. That same terrible purpose Ryv bore on his shoulders. “You protected what you could. And you’ve saved mine..every day.” Every day there was that reminder that she couldn’t die yet. That option would be cowardice.

"You always show up when we need you." In all definitions of the word.

"It makes me feel like shit that I just- I can't help, aside from trying to force her to come back to us...if that would even do anything. It makes me feel- makes me feel weak, like I'm not protecting your or Ryv or Allyson like I should be able to when you all need me..."

“I know how you feel. I don’t think I ever did before, not so helplessly.” She’d never failed so much as she had on Muunilinst and Borosk. Borosk especially ––– her hesitation had brought harm to her brother and...something about her friendship hadn’t been enough for Allyson to choose to stay with them, rather than betray them. She dropped her hands from gripping his jawline, touching the collar of the flightsuit. “But..I don’t know. You chose a path quicker than I’ve been able to. Get Allyson back. I don’t know why that was...so hard for me to come up with or just..why even entertain another option. I'm no arbiter.”

She sighed. “It’s hard to sentence someone so unstable, and so..far away. It’d be all assumptions and wrong and.. I’m a little surprised. I shouldn’t be, I thought you might be angrier with her. Less accepting of the idea of her coming back after....”

After cheating on her boyfriend and almost killing him? Loske couldn't comment on the former, she'd chosen Maynard over another too. Her decision had been more complete than Allyson's had been, or at least how it felt. That confusion and lost bled between identities wasn't something the clone could sort through.

"I'm worried about how Ryv's going to be after all this."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

Reliability. Maybe that's all it really came down to. He wasn't the strongest, the brightest, the most powerful. Not at all, in any account. But all it took was consistency. Maybe that was another area where being human set him apart from his lover. She was thrust into adulthood where as Maynard slogged his way there, living out that empty routine on Concord Dawn.

Up before the sun rises, a warm meal to nourish and wake him up before he was in the fields, working the farm until after the sun went down and another meal set him away into a short slumber before starting it all over again. Day after day, year after year only to be replaced with a similarly regimented ritual. If it all served to do anything for him aside from shape some form of discipline, it was make it sure that he would never be too worn down not to be there in the fray when he was most needed. No other time mattered if he couldn't be at the side of his friends, those he loved when he needed them the most. He'd learned the hard way, from his late masters in both Tok'run and Kazuhira as well his own kin.

He'd pull Loske or Ryv from the fire every time if they needed him to. The who, what, where, why didn't matter. He'd try his damnedest to be there even if he'd too often slight himself for failing in preventing their pain to begin with.

So long as they ended up okay, he could live with it in due time.

“Hey,”

“You saved Ryv’s life.”

“You protected what you could. And you’ve saved mine..every day.”

"You always show up when we need you."

It was the best he could do, in the end. Certainly so within the periless lives they all led.

He'd do better to accept that, clearly those closest to him didn't think any less of him. And it showed when his gaze locked with her deep blues, something about her eyes always giving him that wave of reassurance. It was going to be alright, they were going to figure it out. Certainly, if she was here with him, her hands laid on him in a loving plead. He could in worse straits.

"Of course I'm angry with her..." He said in candid truthfulness regarding Allyson. Allyson certainly couldn't put up a good case to not be.

"She- she wronged Ryv, my brother. She wronged you...I don't know if I can ever forgive her. But...what are we ever going to solve if we just- strike her down? I think...I think maybe if she can...I don't know, turn one of the Sith and come back, then yeah, I'd forgive her. She never spelled malicious intent to me, at least not before Borosk. She's just-...I know as much as you do about that...I don't know, Loske." He said before he unfurled a shuttered breath. His voice was clearly strained. Twelve hours at the comms barking out commands at his wing certainly didn't do any good to his vocal chords.

"I'm worried about how Ryv's going to be after all this."

"I- I don't know. But no one is more resolute in his beliefs, his convictions, I'm not sure what he'll be like. I really don't." He'd otherwise, had a very good gauge on his Kiffar friend. Now? No one could predict any of what happened and thus, there was no piecing together what Ryv might be like at the end of it.

"Not like any of this has been easy to figure out to begin with...it all just- I've felt....lack of control over a lot of the worst things to ever happen to me. Concord Dawn, Muunilinst, Foerost...but this? I- I can't do anything about it." It clearly pained him as his gaze faltered from hers before eventually linking again, as if immediately realizing how strong of a tether she was to keep a hold of. Again, the lack of answers for her alone drew a shutter of pain through him. Feeling aimless when he should be resolute in protecting her, bent on never seeing her like she was on Harnaidan ever again.

His arms joined around her in embrace before he leaned back into the cramped cot, pulling her into his embrace, needing that resolute anchor after so long in inhuman isolation at the controls of his starfighter, only immediately after Brentaal and Borosk. It was a stretch that left them little room for comfort, and reminded him all the same how much he need cherish it when it came, as sparingly as it seemed to.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Nodding along with his admittance, she found some solace in the realism of his views. Maynard Treicolt was angry, but it was tempered. Conditional. If there could be some sort of worthiness at the end of this, a balance struck, perhaps he could reconcile his feelings toward the Spy gone rogue.

It was always somewhat jarring to hear someone say your name in conversation. His final exhale sounded defeated on the matter, and she resolved to leave it at that. Exposing how much he didn’t know about the subject wouldn’t do well for his confidence, nor hers. There’d be no resolution today, and verily, it wasn’t up to them to resolve. All they were responsible for were their own reactions to it, and his calm approach soothed the irrational side of her.

“I hope..that doesn’t change.” Loske murmured, looking down. When they touched down on Coruscant, they’d get an answer on that sooner than anything about Allyson. They were scheduled to see Ryv straightaway.

Her frown deepened at the list of things that had gone wrong in his life. They were all associated with loss. Losing his family, almost losing her, and almost losing his connection to The Force. There was some relief that the latter two were almosts. Whatever physical contact she had with him in that moment, she intensified the pressure for reassurance.

Apprehension and fear around Foerost was already voiced. Everything had happened so quickly, and he’d seemingly recovered

“You’re doing what you can and what you need to do about it, I think. You’ve already talked me off a ledge about the whole thing. I was...really angry earlier and the option to just strike her down was...honestly. I probably entertained it..way too much. I don’t really know what’s wrong with me. That’s not right, that’s..that’s also just not my choice to make.” She exhaled through her nose, shoulders sinking. It was probably compounding because of the ripple effect she’d seen from Allyson’s decisions. More than Ryv had been hurt, Amea had been as well. Confused, lost, and inexplicable pain. Something Maynard didn’t see, which helped Loske rationalize why she was more hostile toward the whole thing. “-And when we see Ryv, there’s nobody he’s going to be more stoked about seeing than Concord Brawn himself.” She cracked a weary grin.

His embrace was a nonverbal cue to stop talking. Or at least put a pin in it and redirect attention to the more immediate shared needs. Neither of them would find the answers for her, or his, questions and wonder here in this bunker. It was all infinitely unresolved speculation. All that could be found in absolution here was trust, care, and love.

Loske nurtured the silence of a few heartbeats, feeling the soft thud thump thud thump of the muscle that kept him alive against her ear. The soft rise and fall of his chest beneath the padding of the flight suit. With the datapad turned off, the only source of light was the window at the back of the bunker. It wasn’t a solid light and flickered with the rapid movements of the light tunnel they passed through - en route back to Coruscant. Closing her eyes, she focused only on the silence. It was more than companionable, it was serenity by now.

Eventually, she wriggled at his side, adjusting enough to kiss his jawline. She then tilted, looking up at the outline of his chin while her finger traced lazy, loose lines on the seams and straps of the jumpsuit. If she couldn’t feel confident about anything she was entrenched in, she could at least deliver votes in his favour. “You were truly great out there, you know. It’s not easy but you make it seem like it is. Doing what everyone needed and saying what they needed to hear.

On Foerost too. I froze up, and you completed the mission.”

Scooching enough to prop herself on an elbow and look down at him, she let a rogue grin creep
through her lip line. “I’m lucky to be sharing a bed with the best self-made Starfighter Commander, Jedi knight, ex smuggler the galaxy has to offer.” Her smile widened: “I’m going to make sure Triocolt knows all about that.”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

As good as Maynard was at burying himself in anguish, Loske was better at pulling him back out. Nearly every word she'd uttered let trickle a feeling of reassurance save for what she admitted around the thought of wanting to kill Allyson herself. Not that he didn't understand him, a part of him wanted the two of them to join arms and hunt her down themselves as a final means of undoing the slight done unto his brother, but lacked any confidence in any of the three of them feeling satisfaction or lack of guilt in her finality. She deserved the second chance, as reluctant as he was.

He could only hope they'd be such a sight for sore eyes for Ryv as they'd thought. He genuinely wasn't sure how much he'd want to see them in the end. So long as he knew Ryv was alright, he'd give the Kiffar all the time he needed but with so many questions unanswered he wanted to at least appear in physical manifestation that he was there for him if nothing else. A part of him needed to feel that way as well.

Regardless, Loske was never delayed in offering respite in that returned embrace and intimate closeness with him. He needed it and her eager reciprocation certainly gave him the impression it was mutual. Then came that wholesome sentiment from her again, always eager to uplift him. It was moments like that where he wanted to question if he ever really deserved her again only to remember the sentiment shared between him and his cousin before the bitter defeat at Borosk.

"This is gonna be tough but I'll be damned if I don't get you back to her. Because you deserve her and she damn well deserves you. That's a promise."

Then it felt as right as it always should again. All the same, her sentiment felt more grandeur than he might've deserved from her, even as it drew the faintest grin across his lips.

“You were truly great out there, you know. It’s not easy but you make it seem like it is. Doing what everyone needed and saying what they needed to hear.

On Foerost too. I froze up, and you completed the mission.”

"I tried to at least...seems like it all certainly paid off, whatever the cost." He said, glancing the way of the blank screen, powered down terminal set atop the desk where he'd sent home the first word back from the front to the kin of his fallen comrade. Not that he wasn't familiar with the toll, it just never got any less burgeoning.

"Still...even with everything else going on you were there with me. I don't know if I'm am that same person, that I was over Dubrillion, without you. Something about...even just knowing you're there with me, feeling you...its...its reassuring. I know because, Harnaidan it was all...off. All the pain, amplified, all the tears visceral. Because I- I didn't know what happened to you in the end. With you there, right with me..." He wasn't sure he had to iterate the rest. It felt as if a schism was mended. Two parts made a whole.

“I’m lucky to be sharing a bed with the best self-made Starfighter Commander, Jedi knight, ex smuggler the galaxy has to offer.”

“I’m going to make sure Triocolt knows all about that.”

And that was when those doubts were snuffed out, whenever she spoke like that. It felt, certain, final. It had to be if in the end...they were all that they were fighting for. He offered up a faint laugh at her endearing epithet to describe what would be the family that'd finally come about from the two of them. That admission drove a hand up through her blonde locks before he twisted his head to place a loving kiss to her forehead as he eased his body against the warm embrace of hers once more.

"You say self-made as if you had nothing to do with it. You only found me about at that last part, 'ex smuggler', you were all along the way through the rest of it. I know what you'll say but...I couldn't have been any of what I am without you there, at my side, through all of it. I- just thinking about it...I can't believe I was ever mad at you, after Harnaidan. You were there for me like you've always been, like you always will be. I-, its all ours. What you and I are...we are because of each other before anything else. I love you. I don't know what the way there will look like but, I just want that end. What we've always talked about. Settled somewhere, peaceful, the Triocolt. Whatever I do, it's for that, for you, for us. I love Ryv, I love Allyson, I'll always be there for the Alliance, I made promise to that but...I'm not gonna let anything keep us from that in the end...whatever it takes." Maynard states in resolute confidence. It felt selfish but if in the end, she was what was worth fighting for after all of it.

At least, to him.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

I KNOW PLACES​

The no-response to her admittance to wanting to hunt down Allyson likely meant he had considered such a route as well. His was borne out of the same protective marrow that she’d felt, but hers had been forged unintentionally. The Arbiter had been the moniker of her paternal donor. Cold and calculated. A contrast to the maternal side of her genetics, who hadn’t always been so cold. She’d been emotive and tireless once: The Redeemer. Pulling the name of Jedi from the mud and making it good enough to pass the harsh judgment of said arbiter. They’d both been decisive in their prime — acting with imperfect information and damning the consequences. They likely would have enacted such a hunt. Without conversation. Loske had to have more faith in friendships if only to further differentiate herself from such origins. In the end, they were all dust anyway, dust deserved more chances.

There was always the perspective of trying on the shoes, as well. What would Allyson do if Loske had gone off the rails? If she’d hurt Ryv or..Maynard. Such scenario building was difficult for the would-be clone and was cut short on the pretense that she had enough audacity to suggest she would never. Those friendships she had to have trust in were what made her complete and were the areas that gave Allyson gaps she needed to fill. The Padawan deeply suspected Allyson was not a quisling -- instead, her personality, wants, and desires had become so lost, muddled, misconstrued and out of human touch and relationships that she was probably magnetized to anyone who reciprocated in ways that made her feel whole.

And however down Loske might have felt about everything, all her recent failures, at least she had that happiness and wholeness without question to counter the guilt.

"I tried to at least...seems like it all certainly paid off, whatever the cost."

Despite the dim lighting, there was a glint in his eye when he looked toward the desk. The datapad that was the catalyst to conversation from star system to star system. “Do they ever reply?”

When he delved into the explanation of his growth, she simpered pleasantly and gave him space to stammer out his intentions. Intently listening and all the while maintaining absent feather-light touches, unrealized fabric fiddles and brushes.

Truth be told, she probably wouldn’t have pegged him for a smuggler when she’d first seen him or heard him speak -- unless she focused only on his affinity for starships which was probably a spacer thing to do. It was funny to recall the first time the three of them had met.Through arrangement and conversation, he’d quickly navigated to the X-Wings before chatting with either Ryv or her. A reverse to his approach now. And probably one of those moments in the reflection where she would have never assumed she’d be curled up with him in the wake of each struggle. On so many scales -- imagining the battles was out of her mind and imagining a relationship was out too. The Alliance hadn’t existed, they hadn’t existed...and in hindsight, as much pain had been shared between the pair, she wasn’t sure she’d change any of it lest they not be forged as solid a unit from the fires. The future was chance enough, there was no need to introduce further variability to the past as well.

Although, with his positive reinforcement back to her, any of that wishy-washy apprehension of the future was mitigated, and the solidarity of his hold felt like forever. Despite the genuineness of his sentiment, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. He was always so quick to include others in the reason for his success. Truth to the lasso or not, it was endearing. At least he was taking a percentage of the compliment now. His talk about being side-by-side transcended the present and acknowledged the past, giving each credence.

She shifted, only marginally uncomfortable at the mention of Harnadian. If there were ever a thorn in their rose garden, it was that. The root of their vows to never repeat that again, to not isolate themselves in purpose.

It was a dangerous balance they tread. Balancing the demands of duty and one another. Their weaknesses taking fleshy silhouettes and walking amidst the soldiers. Each time they entered the fray together they were reinforcements to the other, but they were also weaknesses in convenient proximity. A mistake made on Harnadian and one of the only pauses she’d taken to a bribe, considering Maynard being lifted from the bounty list of the Sith. So far things had only almost killed them once, but it would be a horrible misjudgment to think that would be the last instance.

After the first ham-handed introduction to the name, they’d adopted and talked about Triocolt with ease, as if speaking the suggestion out loud might eradicate the modicum of unspoken anxiety she felt about it. The promise of a bloodline and a family was a big one. One she hoped against all odds she could deliver on. Something that was so naturally miraculous seemed like a cruel juxtaposition to someone manufactured. As if she’d be allowed to pour all this want into something just to be told it was impossible. Without a word, she internally resolved that during her next routine check-up she’d start to explore the conversation on fertility and plausibility, even if their timeline was only a marker on the horizon. Normally the doctors treated her as any other sentient patient, typical reflex checks, etcetera, because there was no reason not to. She hoped that wouldn't change with this desire, there'd be no strange circumstance or hateful twist of fate. For her to aimlessly assume she had the power to just... be part of creating something.. seemed too naive and good to be true. He at least deserved due diligence before she made too many commitments to a future that could cruelly be denied. He deserved everything, the legacy, the ability to influence. His patience had been proven, unnecessarily, countless times over. Raising somethi—someone(s) with that partnership was worthy of him.

There wasn’t much more to say after his admittance that was new. She felt the same, even if it had taken her a near-death experience to realize her priorities had been horribly misaligned for the better part of her life. Any plans she’d had before they’d met were squandered and replaced with something much more ambitious. More than survival –– it was to live. So he was right, they were who they were because of the other.

"I know."

There wasn’t anything more she could say without repeating everything, and the conversation would be a tight feedback loop of mutual reinforcement. She gave a coy smile, distancing herself so he might see the cheekiness in her response in returning the same sentiment he’d delivered to her in parting on Borosk. “I know.”

Once again though, after the battle, his voice was strained. This time it was less from having his voice box crushed and more from usage. He’d been the drum to keep the rhythm of their attacks alive.

Part of her wondered what other people were doing on the ride back to Coruscant. Probably taking care of their basic needs: sleeping or eating. Something they both needed to do desperately as well. The weariness in their faces, movements, all of it. It didn't dilute the way he looked at her, but the tiredness in those hazels was unignorable. She reached up to run her fingers through his helmet hair, tucking some strands behind his ear. “Are you all caught up with everything, or at least caught up enough to use your time for you now?" She realized she'd hijacked several minutes to sort through her own misgivings and conflicts, and quickly tacked on the addendum reassurance and a sheepish grin: "Which also includes not talking about things we can't solve right now.”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

“Do they ever reply?”

"Not ever that I can see. Most of the time when their belongings, their flag and all that is delivered in person...which isn't ever something I'm there for, I get some insight on what their thoughts on it second hand. I can't say I can blame them...not sure how I'd ever reply to a message like that, if I'm honest. I've been there myself for enough moments like that to never warrant one...to know I wasn't there, that I was helpless losing someone I cared about...I- yeah, gotta be tough." Maynard iterates with his voice drawn in shades of solemn.

He couldn't contemplate ever being on the receiving. For better or worse, in this line of work they'd almost never have to dispatch a holo-message when ever one of those close to him died.

“I know.”

Of course there was she was using his own tricks against him, not that he could claim full ownership of the finesse. He'd heard it...somewhere, but she didn't have to know that.

“Are you all caught up with everything, or at least caught up enough to use your time for you now?"
"Which also includes not talking about things we can't solve right now.”

The last remark drew a reluctant laugh from under his breath at the self-awareness to the previous subject of conversation. It was best they maybe just...do as they did now and just enjoy the company of one another in one of these ever fleeting moments of reprieve, alone. He could never gauge when the next moment like this might arise again.

Thus, all he wanted was to delve into it with her.

"Even if I did...I'd find an excuse out of it." He said, a partial lie as he eased himself into the bed once more, rolling his shoulders as if to symbolize some nature of long term stay onto the bunk as he kept an arm around her, closer to him. After all, everything spelled out to seem like the battle over Dubrillion was won, High Command could wait...for whatever they wanted from them. Which was no doubt some mission so periless and emotionally demanding they'd be drawn together in a corner with nothing but their mutual embrace to remind them they were alive at all.

"And if its time for me...I think I'd like to just make it time for us...alone." Selfish as it might've been, it was all he could really ask for in the wake of the fires of war. Each moment of embrace feeling all the more sweeter as if he could feel the longing he had for it in the hours before roll through his body.

"So long as we get that in the end of all this, right?" Maynard asked before he'd turn and move to pull her closer, moving to lock his lips with hers hungrily. Anything for a moment to forget everything else. The battles they couldn't win alone, the questions they couldn't answer.

Loske Treicolt