The greatest enemy is the one you know best.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Acrylic crumpled easily, distorting the print out of a report that already had large sections blacked out. The sheet of flimsiplast was held onto only a moment longer before it dropped to the floor... and was instantly picked back up and smoothed out as best as it could be. The names were read over again... Lieutenant Colonel Jhoren Rask, Captain Jack Mardesh, Lieutenant Mikhail Janek... it went on. Not many names, but each one Charlotte was familiar with. All listed along with a report on a highly secretive mission that the squad had undergone. The result of the mission had been a success but at a heavy cost: The squad she had once been a part of, the one she had served with since her time joining the Alliance until the moment she had been transferred to Dorn Force, her family... was gone. And while she knew damn well they all had died while serving a cause each and every last one believed in and would have gladly given their life for the term "casualties" made it sound so undignified.

The young officer almost gently tucked the report under the pillow on the cot that took up the majority of the space of her bunk. The room was small, nothing more than a glorified storage area, fitting nothing but the makeshift bed and her footlocker, but it was about the only permanent semblance of a space of her own that she had and at least it was private. At that particular moment it was something Charles was glad for.

She felt too shaky to stand, the palm of her right hand was pushed against one eye firmly then the other, slightly laughing at the thought that Mikhail probably would have jokingly chided her for even thinking about crying. The thought of it forced her to bite her lower lip to stifle another round of tears that threatened to break through the small bit of laughter. When that ended, she was left with a grotesque numb sensation.

And then it hit her, like a punch to the jaw you'd get from some burly guy in a bar fight. If she hadn't been transferred... she would have been with them. Her name would have been on that piece of flimsi. Or worse... she would have been the one to make it back... again. The thought was almost too much, giving rise to an overall discomfort and edginess that staying place in her room just wouldn't be able to contain.

The makeshift gym the group had set up in one of the cargo areas, however... It wasn't out of her normal routine to spend an hour or so there a day, sometimes more, taking out whatever frustrations she had on the punching bag there. At that moment, despite having done so earlier that day, it sounded like a great plan. And with any luck the others would leave her the kriff alone.

That thought persisted as she entered to find the gym thankfully empty and without delay tied her hair up and began to wrap her hands in preparation for what no doubt would be quite a long bout.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

The Rebel Alliance was really missing a trick here, in terms of avertising and recruitment at least. No matter where he went, Alexander Tur'enne constantly felt his eyes dragged and drawn from one occupant to another, relishing the multitude of fine examples of sentience that the Rebellion had on display. So okay, those hideous orange flight suits weren't exactly the most flattering of outfits, and did a fantastic job of disguising the various assets that the fly-boys and fly-girls may or may not have been packing underneath, but for the most part the Alliance seemed to favour fairly tight-fitting and utilitarian attire, particularly when it came to trousers. It was probably a health and safety thing - minimise the amount of loose fabric to prevent it snagging on machinery and equipment - but he wasn't complaining.

He felt his attention wander, watching as a particularly hull-conformal set of dress slacks passed by, paying scant attention to anything above the waist except to identify that the individual was human, fair-skinned, and sported the shaven head and overly muscular physique that probably put him squarely among the ranks of Alliance SpecForce, and implied a lack of preference for intelligent conversation. His lip wrinkled a little in disappointment as he mentally filed away said soldier into the 'not my type' category of his mind, separating him from that crowd of pilots he'd passed earlier, all of whom were firmly in the 'covert observation in shower' category.

Unfortunately, as yet no one had managed to qualify for the 'intelligent conversation' category; at least, not anyone without a face that looked like the backside of a bantha. Or a fish. He briefly recalled a rather creepy and uncomfortable encounter with a Mon Calamari a few days ago in the commissary, who had regaled him with a rivetting story about some sort of amusing mix-up with administration and protocol forms; he hadn't really been paying attention, distracted instead by the way the fins beneath the yeoman's chin had wobbled as he talked. Xander wasn't a bigot by any stretch - hell, he'd sleep with pretty much anything, if it stayed still long enough - but apparently the Mon Calamari species was beyond even his broad horizons.

Them and Bothans; though in the latter case that was more because they reminded him of some sort of nightmarish vision of what might have resulted if their childhood neighbours' pet Slice Hound had done more than just humped Charles' leg.

Speaking of Charles; as the doors into the gym parted - Xander had decided that his biceps could do with a little work, so he could start wearing sleeveless shirts again - his eyes settled on his sister, making the necessary preparations to, if her expression was anything to go by, beat the crap out of some poor, defenseless, inanimate bag. Xander could tell that something wasn't right, but that was a sense of preservation, not perception: the kind of sense he'd honed as a child so that he knew when to stay out of his sisters' way. A few possible reasons leapt forward into his mind - biological factors, a bad evening with a man-friend, general stress and frustration - but nothing seemed to adequately explain the haunted look in her eyes.

A tug of remorse and sympathy struck in his chest, but he didn't allow it to gather purchase. Much as he wanted to comfort Charlotte if he could, he'd learned from painful past experience that if she was in a particular and peculiar mood, she'd see that as a sign of weakness and tear him to shreds. No; best to pretend that everything was normal, just for long enough to assess the situation. Then, if necessary, he could comfort, or console, or simply participate in a mutual bitching session about whatever jackass had put her in such a foul mood.

Dumping his bag down noisily beside her, Xander folded his arms across his chest, and shook his head with a sigh. "Black bones, sis," he chastened, eyebrows tugging into disappointed frown, "I know you aren't exactly hunting for a man right now, but you could at least have some pride in your appearence. Would it have killed you to have done something with your face this morning?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Whatever tension was in her shoulders increased tenfold as Xander had entered the gym. He had always been a mixed bag when it came to their relationship growing up. There had been plenty of times when they had gotten into some stupid argument that had resulted with her getting yelled at for bloodying him up. But there had been an almost equal number of times when she had confided everything in him and when it had come to having someone watch out for her, he had always been her pick. That was... until she had run off to join the Corellian resistance and the two had separated with a rather horrible argument.

After she and Glayde had tugged Xander out of the research facility someone in the higher ranks, in their infinite wisdom, had decided that Dorn needed him and so rather than getting sent off, he had stayed. Having your older brother randomly show up six years later in life was something Charlotte didn't want to get used to. Having Xander make stupid comments when every man who had ever outdone him in the roll of 'brother' had just been permanently ripped away from her almost hardened whatever ridiculous grudge she was still holding against him for not joining the rebellion when she had.

A test hit was given to the bag, purposely harder than it needed to be and knowingly taken at a wrong angle that sent a wave of pain coursing up her arm. "You know, Xander... I haven't broken your nose since I was eight. How about you not give me a reason to change that."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

"In my defense," Xander fired back, his nose offering phantom twinges of pain at the memories conjured up, "You burst into my room while I was still asleep, and started beating me in the face repeatedly."

He sighed, perching himself down beside her, a respectful half-arms reach distance between them. For a moment he sat unmoving, gaze staring off blankly into the gym; unexpectedly, a hand shot up and clapped a third-strength slap up the back of Tur'enne's head. "That's for breaking my nose," he added, casually not allowing eye contact to be established. "You need to learn to respect your elders and, since you're still a midget and I'm not anymore, I guess it's time I educated you."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

All movement came to a halt the instant his hand collided with the back of her head. If it was possible, if at all conceivable, her entire vision would have gone red. Whatever common sense the young woman had vanished without a trace and raw instinct kicked in. It was as if some primal part of her brain that she always tried to keep in check completely took over. It wasn't just rage, it was something else, it scared her and she hated it, but at that moment...

No sooner did Alex finish his sentence than she whirled around on him, her left fist aimed to carry out her threat from earlier.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Xander's muscles bunched, eyes wincing in preparation for the pain that usually resulted from any kind of strike aimed at him by his little sister. Much to his surprise - and to hers, it soon emerged - his limbs had somehow acted on their own, lancing out to snag Charlotte's offending fist and arrest it's cause. Xander stared at it blankly, genuinely shocked that any of the several years of martial arts training he'd gone through on the company's dime - a necessity after the demasculation of having the crap beaten out of you by your little sister for most of your childhood - had actually managed to help him.

It was during that moment of shock and awe that Charlotte's other fist connected squarely with his jaw.

"Son of a -!" Xander started, managing to catch himself mid-way before he inadvertantly insulted their mutual parentage. The force of the impact had sent him tumbling off his perch, and Charlotte's assault didn't seem to be a one-off action. Attempts to struggle to his feet failed; Alex did his best to block what shots he could, legs even managing to lash out and cut hers from under her at one point, but that only encouraged her to pin him to the ground and pummel him relentlessly: and there were only so many shots his mediocre training could keep out.

Oh, crap, Alex mused, wincing against the pain. Guess the tough love approach was a bad bet this time around.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

She wanted him to die. At the very base of whatever was running her mind, all she wanted was death, misery, to have the man pinned below her experience all the pain and anguish her brothers in arms must have in their final moments. Each blow she managed to land on him procured a yelp of pain she was oblivious to, each he managed to fight off was ignored as another fist went about colliding with his skin again. It wasn't Charles running everything anymore and she knew that and some part of her was screaming her to stop while the rest was cheering her on.

The punches stopped coming as both hands came around Alex's throat, tightening, pressing both thumbs forward, knowingly attempting to collapse and crush trachea.

And then it happened... the chain connecting the punching bag to the ceiling of the gym snapped suddenly and loudly. Her eyes darted to where the bag fell to before they blinked several times and she turned back to Xander... who was currently still attempting to pry her hands off his throat while he was taking on a horrible blue hue.

The intake of air was sharp and painful as her hands released their hold... at least as far as she was concerned, Charlotte had no idea how her brother felt but seeing him in such a state was horrible enough on its own. She would have killed him, she had wanted to, she.... The thought was shoved from her mind and Charles quickly ripped off part of the bottom of her shirt and pressed the fabric to one of the meaner wounds on her brother's face that had begun bleeding profusely.

There was no apologies that could be said to right it all, but even worse was what had happened to break it up. She glanced to the punching bag, lying in a heap on the floor. Charlotte knew her hands were shaking by that point as she looked back to Xander.

"I didn't... I didn't mean to do it... you... you can't tell anyone!"

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Alex scrambled clumsily backwards, a hand clasping at his throat as he sucked in a series of deep, struggling breaths. His eyebrows danced between surprise, and panic, and fear, shifting above eyes that were as wide as they could possibly be. His gaze shifted between the punching bag and his sister, mind racing at the possible causes of such a freakish coincidence; but right now wasn't exactly the best time to conduct a proper scientific analysis.

Breaths finally becoming easier, and the stippling effect starting to fade from the edges of his vision, Xander let his hand fall away, using it for stability as he fought the urge to collapse onto the floor. His nose was streaming, crushed awkwardly against his face; he could taste the coppery tinge of blood as it crept between his lips, and snuck down the back of his throat. Now wasn't the time to worry about it however.

He set his gaze on Charlotte, eyes ablaze with panic. "What did you do?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

"Nothing!"

Her mind was racing, stumbling over a continual "No. No no no no no no... frinking void, NO.", the guilt over having put Xander in such a state, and the constant nag mixed in of 'If you hadn't been transferred, if they weren't dead...' Self preservation kicked in, overriding it all.

"The chain must have been fatigued. Coincidence! I didn't do anything except...that." The words came out in rapid fire, but her eyes betrayed all the emotions going through her despite her desperate motioning that the only thing at fault in the room was her brother's beating.

Nervous gaze shifted back to the bag, then back to her brother, eyes lingering on the red marks on his neck that her fingers had produced.

"kriff..." The slowdown of her heartbeat let the echoing of it stop long enough in her head for a rather sickening realization to come to her. Xander, for all his faults, all that she felt he'd somehow wronged her, was her brother. Her real brother. He'd been there since day one. And with her former squad gone...well... he was all she really had left. The single person she could actually trust out of the lot of them. In the field, on assignment... that was one thing. But when the skrag really hit the fan?

The answer to everything was plain, simple...

Whatever gap between the siblings that had been caused when Alex had moved away from her was suddenly closed as Charlotte quickly wrapped her arms around Alexander's midsection and pushed her forehead against his chest. "It's all my karking fault."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Awkward was the first adjective that sprung to mind, but in an instant all thoughts disappeared from his mind. A little sorely, he wrapped an arm around her, positioning his chin to rest on her head carefully, so as not to inadvertantly recolour her hair with the blood leaking from her nose. Managing to shift his balance enough to add in the other arm, he wrapped that around her as well, delicately squeezing the embrace around the figure that huddled against him a little tighter.

He didn't ask questions; that was always a bad idea anyway, and Charlotte was hardly in any state to answer them. For anything to make sense - and for him to be able to offer advice that would be of any help at all - she'd need to be thinking straight. No way that was gonna happen any time soon.

Finally, when he felt a little of the tension in her shoulders relax within his arm, he liberated a hand to gingerly probe his damaged nose. "It's a good job I don't have a date later," he offered, a mock-bitter tone lacing the words under his breath. "Feels like you messed up my face pretty good."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

"You know you missed it." A comment that normally would have had a playful edge to it came out sounding dull and strangely hollow.

The flare of complete unbridled rage and its aftermath had sapped Charlotte of whatever will to continue to fight against her sibling. For all the years they had been apart, it was all too easy to go back to a routine that had characterized their childhood...screaming, fighting, then talking like none of it had even happened.

"Something's wrong with me, Xander. I keep living... and they keep dying. And weird shit keeps happening around me. And I hate everyone..." It wasn't a coherent though, maybe, but it came out anyway in it's half-mumbled deliverance.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

"So, what's new about that?" Alex offered with the faintest of shrugs. He winced a little and hesitated before adding: "Well, aside from the dying part. That was pretty much just the pet fish back home." A faint smile graced his features. "You always were an emo little hellhound, who got mixed up in 'weird shit', as you so elloquently described it."

He sighed, refusing to relinquish his hold on his sister, pulling her in a little tighter instead. "This time it really got to you, didn't it?" He offered the gentlest of kisses, planted atop her forehead. He'd never seen her like this; so emotionally crushed by an experience. She'd always been fearless, and while granted that was usually because she was too busy scaring the living crap out of everyone around her to actually experience the emotion herself, she'd always seemed impervious: things bounced off her like she was indestructable.

Something had changed, he realised. Something had broken his baby sister. And, to his sadness, he realised that he'd probably never know what that was. Revealing secrets like that took trust and, while there was a baseline trust that you recieved by default as a relative, they'd been apart for so long that it was all he had to rely on.

He breathed out another gentle sigh, and drew back, his deep, dark eyes seeking out Charlotte's, a finger momentarily wiping away a track of tears that had made a bid for freedom down her cheek. "I don't know what happened to you, sis. I don't know where this extra blackness you're carrying around in here -" He tapped her chest for emphasis. "- came from; and I know you'll probably never tell me. But it doesn't matter."

His eyes shimmered, as he struggled to keep her gaze squared with his. "You didn't do this, Charlie. You didn't make this happen. It isn't your fault; none of it is." His arms wrapped around her; pulled her close again. "None of it is," he echoed.

A pause. "Well, except for my face." A smile crept onto his lips again as his words took on a slight teasing lilt. "That pretty much was your fault. So if this whole emotional breakdown thing is because of messing up my pretty face... then I guess that's okay."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Alex always did have the right things to say. Even the silly fish thing he had mentioned... she had been four, him a few days before his tenth birthday, and she remembered sitting staring into the small glass bowl with the little multicolored fish she had named "Brutus", it was belly up and somehow to her it was the worst thing that had happened in her short life up to that point. But Xander had been there and whatever he had said had made that okay... And while his words hadn't quite pieced together everything this time around, it did help. Enough that she could let a small laugh pass at his final comment.

"Just wanted to give you a chance to visit our fabulous med bay. One of the medics is kinda cute, figured you wouldn't mind the view." She still was lacking in the characteristic bite that most things left her with and it was followed by a deep breath that was far too shaky for her own liking, but at least the comment let Charles feel more like herself and less like the pitiful excuse for a soldier she knew she was coming across as.

No, Xander wasn't going to get the whole story out of her, no one would as far as she was concerned. The entirety of how it was she came to be a part of her previous squad had managed to be classified by their CO, respectfully never discussed, and as far as Charles was concerned it could all be buried right along with them. But she felt that she owed at least some sort of explanation, Alex did seem like he honestly cared enough he wouldn't mock her for it.

"I found out a lot of people died..." A pause had to be taken and a deep breath was drawn once more. "I know it's war and this kind of thing happens... but these guys... they were..."

To anyone else the term wouldn't have hesitated, but it almost seemed insulting to the one who was there for her now. "They taught me everything. Worked with them all for four years. They took up where you left off, I guess... watched my back, kept me out of too much trouble, fixed anything that went wrong."

She had to stop herself and breathe again, it was almost like she had forgotten how to as she spoke, arms still wrapped tightly around Xander. "And now I'll never see them again."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Though Charlotte had never uttered the specific words, Alexander was smart enough to fill in the blanks, and interpret her unspoken meaning for himself. His arms squeezed around her a little tighter. "It's always tough when you lose family," he consoled softly.

The notion hung in the air for a moment, a twinge of awkwardness dancing around in Xander's chest. Charlotte and he had grown up together, raised as siblings. Xander had even been there first, adopted when their mutual 'parents' had thought they wouldn't ever be able to concieve. When Charlotte had come along, it had been a miracle; but to their credit, they'd never treated Alex any differently. He was still their son, and they loved both of their children equally.

Even so: ever since Alexander was old enough to understand what adoption asked - old enough to ask questions about why there were no holostills of him and his mother in the hospital like there were for Charlotte, among other things - his concept of family had been skewed. There wasn't a bond of blood between him and his sister; him and his parents; but even so, he felt for them as if there was. He would go to the ends of the universe for them if he had to, even if Charles would probably snap off his arm in lieu of thanks. If anyone understood how those bonds of family could be formed with others, it was Alex.

Speaking of bonds; an ache struck up in Alex's chest as he thought about her. Thoughts threatened to cascade through the carefully errected barriers in his mind; rather than race to reinforce them, he unleashed a gentle sigh. Blinking back tears that threatened to form, he asked softly: "Did I ever tell you about Laura?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Somehow Charles knew he'd get what she fully meant, a few years apart couldn't change or take back the multitude of conversations they both had with each other... specifically in their teenage years when most problems they related to one another typically had to do with their parents irking them in one way or another or some date had gone awry. Stupid kids having stupid gripe sessions while leaving out stupid key details because they were too embarrassed to actually say them so the other had to decipher what exactly happened. Charles couldn't remember the last time she had actually thought about those times, or any other times with her sibling, really.

"Laura? Miss 'She's my world, I think I'm in love, can do no wrong even though she's dumb as a slork and probably bred from one' Laura from freshman year of college?" For the first time since she'd walked into the gym that day a small smirk came to her lips but just as quickly it faded. Alex bringing up his college girlfriend when she had just relayed about her own loss probably meant something dreadful had happened and Charles couldn't help but feel slightly guilty at the mocking.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

The thin line of a smile that Alex responded with was bittersweet; merely a token gesture, really. "Yeah, that's her."

He frowned. "And she was my world. My day; my night; meant everything to me." As he spoke, his voice trembled a little at the memory, all of the emotions that had come as naturally to him as breathing back then boiling back to the surface, not an iota less intense than they had been all those years ago. The joy and elation at the mere thought that she existed smashed against the crushing sorrow of what had happened next.

"Turns out I was right," he continued, "And wrong. I was in love; but she wasn't the innocent, ever-right angel that I always made her out to be." He laughed a little at the irony, staring blankly into space, not even bothering to fight against the fledgeling tears now shimmering in his eyes. "You know how she was a couple of years younger than me, and I was always petrified that she'd meet someone better at college, and wind up leaving me?" He winced, lip trembling slightly; his muscles slumped, whole frame seeming to slouch. "In the end, she did. Some guy closer to her age. Just... left me, out of the blue. Left me holding the keys to the appartment we'd just bought -" His voice hesitated for a moment, a sniff of breath sucked in through his throat. "- and the ring I'd spent every credit I had buying for her."

He laughed, bitterly. "You'd be surprised how quick something like that cleans out your bank balance; took the residential job with Frohad Galactic just to have a roof over my head, and food in me." He sighed, grimacing at how his words might have sounded. "I'm not making excuses. I just -"

He shifted, a hand taking gentle hold either side of Charlotte's face, aiming her eyes to meet with his. "I've lost people that I love too, and I know how it can shatter your life. I know how it can change you. I haven't, uh -" He stammered, tripping over the phrasing a little. "- loved a woman in quite some time." Years in fact.

He winced at the clumsy half-truth he'd provided there, but pushed past it. "I know I haven't exactly been the best brother in the galaxy, but I -" He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm here if you need to talk. I'll always be here for you." He offered a faint smile. "Always."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

His last remark wasn't a loss to her, and the simple fact she wasn't recoiling away from him probably conveyed that more than anything Charlotte could think to say might have. The last thing she wanted to do was mock her brother in that moment, but it was like a reflex, some strange method of protecting herself that Charles had learned rather quickly when it came to protecting herself against Xander's often biting comments. Sure they always came as retaliation for her own methods of diplomacy... but still.

"Appreciate you confiding in me, bro...but I find that whole... not loving women thing hard to believe... you used to chase tail like a mad man. Ever since you hit puberty I don't think a weekend went by you weren't telling me to stay the hell out of your room because you had some girl over..."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

A soft chuckle escaped from his lips; relief liberated one of the plethora of emotional weights suspended from his shoulders. Though it wasn't exactly a secret - hell, pretty much everyone in all the decent bars on Coronet knew who he was, and whether or not they should shuffle awkwardly away when he siddled up beside them in a bar - it was something that his sister didn't know and, well: as she'd said yourself, it represented a pretty major change in his life.

Pretty Major... Thoughts strayed to Glayde, who unfortunately was no longer floating barely clothed in a bacta tank in the med lab. Words couldn't express Xander's disappointment at that; he had rather enjoyed the free show, but unfortunately without Glayde's presence, the scenery was somewhat uninspiring. Though the Alliance had achieved lots since their conception, they clearly hadn't managed to find a recruiting campaign that was effective with the 'cute male nurse' demographic.

Dragging his thoughts kicking and screaming back to the sombre surroundings of the gym, Alex offered a nervous smile. "I still chase tail, sis; it's just that the tail I go for now is a little, ah -" He blushed, realising that his hands were starting to make an attempt at miming. "- tangeable? And front-mounted."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

"Huh..." While it hadn't been entirely unexpected, for some reason she wasn't profoundly surprised either. Though she did find herself somewhat pained to know that her brother's preference, or realization of, had come at the cost of someone causing a great deal of pain to him. It was for Laura's benefit that Charles had been away fighting Imperials in the smaller cities that dared defy them all... otherwise the woman would have probably ended up suffering from a 'mysterious accident' that would have broken every pretty little bone in her face.

Charles' shoulders shrugged before she settled back against Xander. "Guess I can stop my plotting to turn every female officer against you."

It felt good to joke again, to try and drag her thoughts away from whatever wrong she felt she had suffered. Only Onashi had been willing to have any sort of back and forth banter with her and that generally consisted of her shamelessly flirting with him one moment only to act entirely disinterested the next and that just wouldn't have managed to cover up the pit in her stomach this time.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

"You can do whatever you want with the female officers," he muttered back, "Just as long as it keeps them distracted, and leaves the male ones free for me."

Xander offered a friendly poke into Charlotte's ribs, illiciting the same squirm that it had done ever since she was about three. It was a reflex more than anything; no way his the badass commando sister lacked the self control to still be ticklish anymore. Just one of those things, like reaching for the wrong side for the controls when you get in a different elevator to normal; ducking in all the right places in a house you hadn't been in for ten years; muscle memory. Reflex. Tradition.

He sighed, releasing one of his arms to prop himself up as he leaned backwards slightly. "So, what about you. You seeing anyone?" He flashed a mischevious glance in her direction. "That Major of yours seems pretty cute..."

[Mara Tallen]

She hated being space-bound for so long.

She needed earth beneath her feet and her paws, to roam, to dig in, to run free.

She couldn't do that on a ship. And that bothered the predator living inside of her.

Mara sighed and bound her hair in a ponytail as she appraised herself in the mirror. Tall, lithe, and leanly muscled, she could have been a model with her height and long legs. But she'd been raised Mandalorian since the age of four - that wasn't an option. Nor did she ever wish it to be. Since the day her father had first taught her to set off the simplest of firecrackers when she was a wee little thing, she'd been fascinated by explosives.

Dressing provcatively was the order of the day, she decided, snickering at the thought of being stuffed into a uniform of any sort. As such, she pulled on a tight black tank-top and her favorite fitted black shorts, while she stepped into a pair of blck and silver sneakers. Those she laced niced and snug - if she shifted, losing a shoe midway through wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

The recently inked tattoo on her wrist glittered under the sterile light of the hallways as she passed. Intricate silver links formed an elaborate chain around her wrist, dangling from which had been etched a single dogtag. It had been tradition in her old regiment, to honor fallen comrades with some sort of ink, but Ardent had been more than a squad-mate. He'd been her partner for three years, an occassional lover, and her best friend in the galaxy. No one else knew her the way Rick had.

And she doubted anyone ever would.

Especially around here, in the middle of her new group. Dorn Force.

The fact that she'd so readily agreed to her transfer still left a bad taste in her mouth. Instead of the promotion she had coming, she was the new girl in a group of people who already disliked her. Especially Charlotte.

Just thinking of the petite blonde made Mara want to rip out someone's throat. Enough so that a very audible and very feral snarl came out of a throat that shouldn't have been able to produce it.

That settled it.

She was going to head to the gym space and exhaust herself with a workout until everything went numb again and she collapsed into sleep.

Mara came round the last bend in the hall and slid soundlessly through the double doors closest to where the equipment had been set up. She heard voices inside and blessed the nine gods that she'd brought headphones and her music player to drown them out. Recognizing them after a moment, shee paused just out of sight and listened for a moment.

She had to bite her tongue to stifle her growl at Xander's last comment about Glayde. The Major wasn't cute, in her opinion...the man was hot, and delightfully talented in bed. Even she had to admit it, in spite of his pushing her away and claiming that with his seniority it wouldn't be right.

Every fiber of her being wanted her to back to the 6th, to leading her strike team of vanguards and gunners on the battlefield.

Instead, Mara turned the corner and sauntered around a rack of weights until she saw Charlotte. On top of Xander.

Some days, she wished she carried a holocamera.

A vicious smile curled her lips as the venom dripped from her tone. "Comfortable, are we, Charlotte? Was Dash so busy that you had to seek your comfort...elsewhere?" Mara lofted a brow as she awaited an answer, not caring in the least that John would likely be upset with her for it.

Let him, she thought bitterly, he brought it on himself.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Whatever level of comfort had been found with the aid of her brother was positively and utterly destroyed in an internal explosion that only could have come at the fault of Captain Tallen herself.

The fact her and her sibling were in a slightly compromising position wasn't the worst of it, it was the fact that apparently the events of Life Day weren't exactly a secret. The thought was nothing short of mortifying. Not that she regretted it, but that moment and all its... involvement... belonged to her and Agent Starborn alone. As far as Xander went, well... they both knew what had happened and if the Captain wanted to make bantha-shit assumptions... that was her deal.

Charles' eyes met briefly with Xander's, her gaze apologetic but she knew her brother would clearly see the fire there that Mara had managed to drench with petrol. "You should get your nose looked at..."

The shove away from him wasn't exactly violent, but far from gentle as Charlotte got to her feet and looked over her shoulder at Tallen.

"Frankly, Captain, I don't see how its any of your damn business..." Bitch.

Since the moment Charlotte had met Mara, the blond had decided she didn't like her and every brief encounter, every glance at each other in the hallways, every time the woman opened her mouth, the feeling had only degraded. It wasn't jealousy, Charlotte had wrestled with that thought shortly after Ruuria only to find a big negative attached to it. Nope, there was something about the Captain that Charles thought just bred typical dumb female and it quite frankly seemed like a good enough reason to write off Tallen.

"So how about you crawl back into the Major's pants and leave me the frink alone?" Well... okay, so she hadn't expected to speak that bit but all the frustration she had been feeling earlier that Xander had managed to quell was once more reaching a boiling point... and fast.

[Mara Tallen]

"You should be better informed, Charlotte. I never crawl...that would be unbelievably crass. He comes to me."

Not anymore he doesn't.

Shut it.

I'm just saying that you're lying, and its not like you.

Don't care. Shut the fuck up.

Mercifully, her voice of reason locked itself away again under the onslaught of pain and rage she threw at it. Her feral need to change was only making things worse, and the longer she went without it, the longer the blackout would be this time. And the more painful the initial shift.

No, things had gone from god-awful to 'someone call in the heavy artillery and start digging graves'.

She took a moment to tilt her head in full view of Charlotte, her eyes glowing like amber gemstones in full sunlight, pupils only the tiniest of pinpricks in the middle. Mara appraised Xander slowly from head to toe and back again, hands on her hips and her lower lip caught between her somewhat elongated fangs.

Whether she was sizing him up for sordid or purely feral reasons was unknown, and inconsequential given the heat radiating from her.

"Everything is my business, Charlotte...you don't have and never will have the rank to cash the checks your mouth keeps writing. So stow it, Second Lieutenant, I'm the Captain here." Mara growled, the inhuman sound emanating from her entire being not just her throat.

"Don't you just hate the fact that I get to give you orders..."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

"HA!" Somewhere in her subconscious she was screaming at herself to shut up, let it go, not to give the Captain the satisfaction... but that was overridden by the rationale that she spoke of all too quick.

"You think you're the first ranking officer I told to go frak themselves? Better take another look at my file, Captain. I've been thrown in the brig by Generals with more stars than your collar even has room for."

It was all going to the void in a pretty little hand basket complete with satin bow. For all that Charles had been itching for a chance to slug the Major, her want to completely ruin the Captain was even greater.

"If you think I'd have a second thought at remotely earning your ire, you must have your head shoved right up your wagyx since those people actually earned their rank rather than sleeping their way to the top. Or am I mistaken? You certainly carry yourself that way."

Xander was forgotten as far as her mind was concerned. So were all this soothing words, all that wonderful calming that only family could give to her. Her family. Her squad had been it, Dorn had been getting irksomely close to fitting the bill...and then she had walked right in.

As Charlotte unconsciously moved away from her brother even more, the punching bag that lied on the floor was run in to, her foot bumping into it. But instead of the fear that she associated the event with, it brought a truly cruel smile to her.

"Hasn't anyone in this outfit told you, Captain? I just don't give a damn anymore. And there's nothing you can take from me or even remotely do to change that fact. You think I'll follow your orders? I rather send you gift wrapped to the Imperials." The words were spat out faster than her mind could tell her to bring it to a halt. The galaxy had taken a giant chunk out of her and to hell if she was giving it all another try... member of the Alliance or not.

[Mara Tallen]

"If I had slept my way to the top, little human, I wouldn't have stopped at Captain."

There was no way possible to pack any more venomous loathing into a simple sentence; as it was, she was surprised there were intelligent words amidst her near-feral growl.

Or that she'd managed verbal speech past the excruciating pain as her jaw tried to painstakingly restructure itself to accommodate the massive teeth that came with her change.

Mara stood perfectly still, as if she were a statue, only barely hearing the rest of Charlotte's vitriol. Her field of vision flooded with a viscous red haze at the mention of Imperials, as her hands clenched into achingly tight fists.

A step forward.

And then another.

And another still, all three slow and accompanied by a sharp sound of rending metal.

Blood ran freely from her fists as claws emerged and dug through her palms, hands caught in mid-change between human and feline. The coppery scent of her own blood should have been enough to send her over the edge, but instead the sharp scent and blinding pain of fighting her natural need brought her clarity.

Gradually, Mara stepped back, forcing her jaw and her hands back to human form through the sheer force of her obstinate will over the span of what felt like an eternity. She wanted to shudder and collapse from the pain, but overriding that base need was her flat refusal to do so in front of her.

"You. Are. Not. Worth. It."

Mara growled, the sound shockingly deep and inhuman as she turned on her heel and walked back out of the room the way she'd come. A trail of blood marking her route.

And three sets of furrows dug into the metal decking right in front of Charlotte.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

"Feeling is mutual, you kriffing freak." Charles knew the Captain couldn't hear her, but it left her mouth anyway.

Her eyes scanned the blood trail and scrapes in the floor. All physical changes that had been occurring with the Captain had been spotted, studied, scrutinized despite the overwhelming sense of anger she had felt. And in those moments something that had been running around in her brain clicked and was decided on with a definite certainty that ran straight to her core.

Another glance was cast to her brother, her breath catching in her throat. He had witnessed several scraps she had gotten in to with local girls, but probably nothing quite like that. And the way she saw it, he never would again.

"Xan..." She sighed. "Thank you... for trying." It felt sickening to look at him with the current train of thought. But really, it was best for everyone. The apology went unspoken, but the word 'sorry' still was formed with her mouth before Charles left the gym.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

The muscles in Xander's jaw seemed to have completely given up on the task of holding his mouth closed, as his eyes struggled to decide which of the two women to stare at, agast. He settled on the freaky, shape-shifting cat lady, mainly because... seriously. What the frell?

Then Charlotte's words had come, and they cut deep into his chest, especially with what he'd witnessed when their eyes had briefly met. There was defeat in her eyes. Resignation. And perhaps the latter term was ironically appropriate, he mused. Wherever she was going, something bad was about to happen. He should stop her. But if he did, she would never forgive him. And that? Well, suffice it to say that he'd rather get maulled by cat-lady, given the choice.

Sighing, he stumbled to his feet, gingerly poking at the swolen and bloodied mass that used to be his nose. "And people wonder why I steer clear of women," he muttered under his breath.

With a grunt he kicked himself into motion, staggering in the vague direction that led to the med bay. His eyes fell to the chronometer strapped to his wrist. Morning shift. With an effort, he pulled his posture up straighter, despite the aches and pains in his body. From the feel of it, Charles had left him with a couple of fractures, and some nasty soft tissue damage. That meant at least a short dunk in a bacta tank and, well: if they were going to see him near-naked and submerged in water, he might as well make a good first impression.

"Okay then, morning shift," he grunted, "Lets see if any of you boys are easier on the eyes than swing shift or night shift."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

The muscles in Xander's jaw seemed to have completely given up on the task of holding his mouth closed, as his eyes struggled to decide which of the two women to stare at, agast. He settled on the freaky, shape-shifting cat lady, mainly because... seriously. What the frell?

Then Charlotte's words had come, and they cut deep into his chest, especially with what he'd witnessed when their eyes had briefly met. There was defeat in her eyes. Resignation. And perhaps the latter term was ironically appropriate, he mused. Wherever she was going, something bad was about to happen. He should stop her. But if he did, she would never forgive him. And that? Well, suffice it to say that he'd rather get maulled by cat-lady, given the choice.

Sighing, he stumbled to his feet, gingerly poking at the swolen and bloodied mass that used to be his nose. "And people wonder why I steer clear of women," he muttered under his breath.

With a grunt he kicked himself into motion, staggering in the vague direction that led to the med bay. His eyes fell to the chronometer strapped to his wrist. Morning shift. With an effort, he pulled his posture up straighter, despite the aches and pains in his body. From the feel of it, Charles had left him with a couple of fractures, and some nasty soft tissue damage. That meant at least a short dunk in a bacta tank and, well: if they were going to see him near-naked and submerged in water, he might as well make a good first impression.

"Okay then, morning shift," he grunted, "Lets see if any of you boys are easier on the eyes than swing shift or night shift."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Despite every want to expedite the intentions running through her head, there was an overwhelming want to do things right. The refresher was the first stop, cleaning sweat and the blood of her brother off of her. Next was back to her bunk for a clean set of clothing, uniform at that. The normally rather casual group rarely wore anything official unless on assignment and Charles couldn't remember the last time any of Dorn Force had actually worn the emblems of their rank, but now seemed as appropriate a time as any.

Charlotte only paused when it came to the set of yellow bloodstripes... her stomach twisted in on itself until she thought she was going to throw up before those had been decided to be left alone.

Less than half an hour had passed from the time she left the gym until she was at her desired location, the office of one Major John Glayde. The sick feeling became all the worse. Now or never, Charles. Do or die. Fighting the urge to barge in her hand rose and gently rapped on the door.

[John Glayde]

To describe the cramped and featureless space into which the logistics departent had crammed a desk as an "office" was perhaps overly generous. In a past life it had probably been some sort of storage room, if the slightly wider-than-average door was anything to go by. Width-wise, the room was barely wide enough for Glayde's desk, leaving a paltry few feet for him to squeeze past it to reach his chair. The back wall encroached further into the room than it should, lined with a bank of storage and filing cabinets that some admin clerk had obviously decided would be particularly useful to him, but that Glayde never actually found a reason to use. The cabinets pushed the entire arrangement closer to the door, barely leaving enough space for Glayde to add in a few chairs for visitors.

Visitors like Tur'enne.

In response to her knocking, Glayde had called for her to enter without even raising his eyes from the riviting resource analysis of the last two months of operations from the base, urging team leaders to encourage a more frugal use of explosives, blaster packs, and other disposable resources while on deployment. Yeah, Glayde thought with a sigh, jabbing a finger intro the control that would deactivate the datapad. We'll just pick up rocks and throw them at the Stormtroopers.

His brow creased into a frown. Mind you, it worked on Endor -

Peeling his eyes off the desk; recognition shifted his face into a smile at the Lieutenant but, as his eyes focussed on hers and noticed them rather determinedly looking floorwards, a twist of discomfort tightened around his innards like a fist squeezing his guts. Despite that however, he forced the expression on his face to remain unwavering, feigning ignorance. "Hey, Charlotte," he offered, lightly. "What can I do for you?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

It almost felt insulting. No, strike that, it did feel insulting. Charles hadn't even so much as half-assed saluted anyone for years. And the rather crisp and proper one she'd fired off when entering the Major's office had been missed as he looked over reports. Then there was just the offhanded way he regarded her as stood at full attention.

Oh shut up, Charles. He's not expecting this sort of skrag and you know it. How are you expecting him to react?

"Sir," her eyes remained focused directly ahead of her, the forced ridged stance was harder than she expected to maintain, the small tremble in her hand was slowly trying to work its way up her arm and worm a place into her spine.

"I would like to officially request..." she took a breath, holding it for a moment before continuing. "a transfer out of Special Forces Operational Detatchment D."

[John Glayde]

There was a brief flicker in Glayde's eyes: that was the only emotion he allowed himself to betray. He reached for his mug of caf - disgustingly cold, but the only viable distraction on hand - and raised it to his lips, carefully adjusting his expression as he swallowed a fridgid mouthful. While granted, his expertise hardly lay in psycho-analysis, and his ability to read women was notoriously bad, even he could notice that something was horribly wrong. His eyes strayed momentarily to a datapad - a casualty report, forwarded onto him by Colonel Dalgas under the premise of 'general interest' - and with a stab of remorse, he had a slight incling as to why. Even so, the shreds of evidence he was aware of didn't seem to assemble into anything that might provoke this kind of response...

He set the mug down, and relaxed back in his chair, eyes fixed on her as his hands laced together in his lap. "Care to explain why, Lieutenant?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Nope. "Of course, Sir." She allowed her eyes to fall from where they had been considering boring a hole into the wall above the Major's head, and her determined gaze met with Glayde for only an instant before she forced herself to look away.

Frak me, where do I even start? Oh yes! I feel completely useless here, I'm probably going to kill the Captain as soon as I get the chance, I've got it bad for one of our NCOs and don't know why and loathe myself for it, my brother is probably going to embarrass me to the point where no one will take me seriously, the only person I think I can trust in the whole group might actually turn on the lot of us if the price was right, and I can't stand you, Sir.

"I... I believe I was improperly assigned to this group. My skill set doesn't appear to mesh with its purpose and I believe my being here is not only a hindrance to Dorn Force itself but that it is limiting what I am aware that I can be doing to the benefit of the Alliance as a whole."

[John Glayde]

Glayde nodded subtly, rotating slowly a few degrees from side to side on the seat's swivel, index fingers drumming together. His brows knitted into a slight frown; he leaned forward, eyes not focussing on her until the last moment, when they gripped hold of her with a steadfast and unwavering gaze. "Bullshit, Lieutenant."

His arms shifted, folding dismissively across his check. His frown took on a trace of disappointment. "Cut the crap, Tur'enne. You and I both know that isn't true; and to be honest, I would have hoped that in the last -" He glanced at the chrono on his wrist. "- hour, you would have managed to come up with an excuse that wasn't nearly so pathetic." He paused for a beat. "That's about how long ago you and Captain Tallen tore it up in the gymnasium, right?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Heh...should have known that would come up. The inside of her lip was bitten in an attempt to keep herself from firing off all sorts of mean connotations about how Glayde couldn't help but bring up his favorite pet. Her mind instantly wanted to race to the next smartass comment about the damage done to the gym (aside from one chain) would have to be taken out of the pay of the Captain... if wild animals even received pay aside from a bowl of kibble. Though the painful sensation as teeth threatened to break open skin kept her silent.

Another deep breath was taken as she finally let her eyes level on the Major's. "I can assure you I am quite serious and have been considering this prior to Captain Tallen's joining of Dorn Force." There was an edge to her voice she couldn't control, but even the best interrogation specialist would have been able to confirm she was speaking the truth.

Her hand shakily raised from her side to pull a datapad from her pants pocket and gently placed it on the Major's desk before sliding it forward. "As you can see I have already drafted a letter to Colonel Starborn with my request to lend my skills to one of the squads under his command."

She cracked. That feeling of resignation that had been welling up inside since she had left the gym broke whatever veil of military protocol she was attempting to keep. Frakking bastard just give me my transfer. You all want to wind up dead? "I just... I can't stay here, John."

[John Glayde]

I don't want you to go.

That notion surprised Glayde as it formed in his mind, as did the sheer gravity of emotion that rallied behind it. He grimaced internally, knowing how foolish it was to entertain such a notion. This was classic transferrance. It had started on Corellia: he'd lost his sister, and replaced her with Selinica. When he'd become estranged from his family, he'd found new ones at every command. The people were different; their roles and personalities changed; but the one constant was that loyalty, that desire to protect and defend.

Consciously, that was the why that he clung to, to justify the tightness in his chest. Subconsciously, he knew there was more. Maybe it was the small, intimate size of Dorn Force: the lack of distance between those and who he worked with. He wasn't so estranged - so segregated - from those he commanded here; people like Charlotte especially didn't cling to the ntion that he was removed, aloof, and superior. At times he wished they would - or at least, wished that Tur'enne would do what she was damn told - but in truth, the people on this base meant more to him than anyone had for a very long time.

Friends; family; it's all the same. His eyes struggled back to Charlotte. I don't want you to go, he echoed.

But desire clashed with duty; he had a responsibility to conform to the regulations that the Alliance laid down. If Tur'enne wanted to put in for reassignment, then that was her right. Sure, Glayde could slow down the process, and forms could always get conveniently lost in the system; but that wasn't how he operated. That wasn't how he did his job.

He sighed, about to reach for the letter that Tur'enne had crafted. An instant before he could, his eyes settled on the casulty report. He hesitated. The hand that reached out retreated. Mind muddled with confusion, his brows tugged into yet another frown. "Did I ever -" He stammered, searching for words. "- ever tell you about my sister?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

There was something in his eyes, it wasn't that typical stubborn look he gave her that always let Charlotte know that Glayde wasn't about to budge on something, it was... well she wasn't quite sure what it was.

She watched as he reached for her letter, noted he glanced at another datapad... and then came a question she was not expecting in the slightest. What the kriff did his sister have to do with her wanting to leave Dorn Force?

But it was the way he had spoken the question that stayed her tongue this time around. A rare moment of... was it... weakness? From the Major? No way. No, frinking way.

"No..." Somehow her calling him by his first name combined with him bringing up his sister had broken down whatever wall of professionalism she had been determined to hold during the discussion.

With a sigh she dropped into one of the seats across from him, glancing back at him to let him know she wasn't going to interrupt him if he continued. But he had mentioned what had happened in the gym and she couldn't help but smirk slightly and let out a half-hearted: "I don't suppose she broke your nose when you were kids?"

[John Glayde]

"No," Glayde replied, with a slight breath of a laugh. "She didn't."

In an instant that brief flash of mirth was absorbed away, sucked inside the swirling, angry maw in the pit of his stomach. The glimmer of smile fell away; though he tried, he couldn't quite manage to maintain his eye contact with Tur'enne. "She died," he stated simply, suddenly becoming extremely conscious of how cluttered his desk had become, and set his attention to carefully realigning the various datapads into some semblance of order.

You'll need to tell her more than that, his mind insisted, rallying against the rib-crushing reluctance. He ran a hand over his face, trying to manually preserve his emotionally calm mask. He knew that; but that didn't make it any easier to talk about something that he'd rarely confessed to anyone. "Was killed, actually. We lived out in one of the suburbs around Coronet at the time; managed to get herself on the wrong side of the local gangs." His eyes glazed over, voice going vague; distant. "They never let me saw the body."

Frowning deeply, he flashed an appologetic glance in Charlotte's direction, a tight, happiless smile stretching across his lips. "My dad worked for CorSec - he didn't take it too well. But mum? She - she snapped. Completely fell apart. Couldn't cope with life anymore; so -"

He leant back in his chair, laughing at the absurdity of it all. "In the end, they retired to Alderaan to escape from it all." He finally managed to find her gaze and hold it. "You can guess how that worked out."

His expression shifted, taking on an air that was almost pleading. "I'm not after sympathy; and I'm not trying to diminish what you've experienced. I won't even try to talk you out of leaving, if that is really what you want to do. But don't -" Another grimace; God, I'm bad at this. He sighed. "Don't hide away from people who can listen; don't run away from the people who can understand." He shrugged, awkwardly. "People who care."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Her eyes didn't even want to look at him anymore. Charles knew she was bad at relating to people, and already having to listen to her brother about how his heart was torn out and life ruined had just about drained whatever feelings of compassion she would be able to manage in a day.

Any apologies for the Major losing his family would come out pathetically hollow and already she knew that his relaying the information had come with some sort of level of trust... and yet, the heart of the reasoning came at the end. So... he knew. Of course he knew. And he was taking it a step further by suggesting her transfer was her running away. As far as Charlotte was concerned there was only one damn person in the entire Alliance left that actually cared and he was probably still in the med bay.

Her eyes flitted back up to Glayde. He had said people, not person.

Oh Charles you are such a frinking idiot...

"...Since when do you care?" It could have been asked sharply, carrying whatever anger she still felt, but rather it came out as an honest question. When the hell did this happen? "Sure... you're supposed to. You're our CO. But I've been nothing but a pain in your ass since I got here."

She didn't let him answer. Whatever corked up words had been held back for years had been on the tip of her tongue and now found their way bubbling out.

"You aren't supposed to care, John. I haven't given you a damn reason to. I've told myself I wasn't going to let it happen when I got assigned here because I couldn't believe that someone somewhere thought it was a great idea to take me away from Rask and the others. I knew I wouldn't work with them forever, but drok it Glayde... it wasn't right. They knew damn well I had been with that group since I was pulled out of that warehouse on Corellia." Tears had started to form in her eyes and ran down her cheeks slowly and she just didn't care anymore.

"They found me, they killed every damn Imperial in the joint, and then they let me stay with them, trained me to be one of them. They listened to me when I couldn't sleep because I kept having nightmares about my squad on Corellia dying, they were the ones that made sure I never had to go in for some bantha-shit psych eval that would have prevented me from getting anywhere. And yet command still thought I'd be better off away from them? And then they expect me to play nice and be quiet when I should have been with them on that mission? When I should be buried right along with them? When instead I'm stuck here dealing with people who look at me like I'm some frakking amateur? When I have Captain Tallen breathing down my neck waiting to ...quite literally, I'm assuming, pounce on me and tear me apart for any mistake?"

Two deep breaths were taken and she forcefully wiped her eyes before sighing heavily and slumped slightly in her chair. "What the hell am I supposed to do, John?"

[Oran Jsorra]

(( Delete Please! ))<edit -="" delete="" please!=""></edit>

[John Glayde]

Though his body remained steadfast and firm, internally Glayde felt as if he'd just been slammed into by a tsunami. It wasn't the emotion that Tur'enne displayed, nor the venom in her words that impacted him so. It was the information. Granted, it was scarce on details: someone, somewhere, had done a damn good job of keeping the specifics of what had transpired on Corellia a very classified secret. Some knew - Dalgas, perhaps; that'd certainly explain his mysteriously convenient passing on of that casualty report - but Glayde certainly didn't: it was all way above his paygrade.

From what hadn't been hidden away under security lock and encryption key, he knew that Tur'enne had been the last survivor of her Corellian Squad, and that she'd been adopted by the Company that rescued her. It sounded simple enough, and Glayde had merely assumed that with her Squad gone she'd simply latched onto the Rebel Company, filling the void of the comrades she'd lost. It had been the same with him, back when an Intelligence screw-up had landed his Jump Trooper Squad inside a hotzone. Only three of them had survived that mission, though one was too badly injured to remain in service; they'd been the closest thing he'd had to family, after he'd lost his sister and become estranged from his parents, and loosing them all had left him crushed. When the Storm Commandos had come along and offered him a new life to replace the one that was lost, he'd grabbed it with both arms and clung on for dear life.

He'd assumed that the loss Tur'enne felt was analogous, but now he could clearly see that it was not. He couldn't be sure what the Rebels had saved her from; he'd probably never know. But the trauma; the nightmares; the Rebels had trancended even the bond of brotherhood between comrades in arms. That's what I tore her away from, he realised, still reeling at the pain and anger in her voice directed at the one responsible for her reassignment; after the mission to Baraboo, and reading the reports of her work on Bothawui, he'd have gone to Hapes and back to ensure that Tur'enne and O'Hurn wound up on his team. The heavy weight of guilt twisted his organs and plumetted to the base of his stomach; hard as it had been to watch her cry, understanding his own blame made it that much harder.

Rising from his seat, reluctant and unsure, he stepped warily around his desk to stand face-to-face with the Lieutenant. A trembling hand was clenched into a fist to tame it, before being slowly relaxed and raised - cautiously; he was somewhat wary of the limb being ripped off and used to beat him into unconsciousness - and rested upon Charlotte's shoulder. He met her gaze and held it as best he could; when she glanced away he offered a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder with his hand. His voice turned soft, any pretense of professionalism long since abandoned. "We have something in common, you and I: back on Corellia, someone saved our lives. "For you, it was Colonel Rask; Captain Mardesh; Lieutenant Janek. For me, it was Lieutenant Charlotte Tur'enne."

He let the sentiment hang, looking deep into her eyes, his own burning with determination, softened by sympathy, empathy, and honesty. "Back in that Frohad compound, you got me out of there; got me to safety. Every time we head out on a mission we entrust our lives to each other's care, and while I would lay my life down for any one of you without a moment's hesitation -" His words tumbled to a halt, a wince flashing across his features at the inadequate phrasing of his sentiment. More slowly, he made a second attempt, a momentary glance away to mask his embarassment the only break in the eye contact he fought to maintain. "Of all of the members of my team, Tur'enne, I know that my life is safe in your hands. Of all the people on this base - hell, probably in all the Alliance - I can think of no one I'd rather trust to fight at my side."

Finally, he let their locked eyes break apart, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous and embarassed about the distinctly unorthadox flurry of sentiments he'd just displayed; hardly a text-book display of the kind of leadership approach the Alliance looked for. Overcome with the urge to deflect attention away from himself and his words, he retreated a few paces and perched on the corner of his desk, from somewhere managing to muster a smile. "As for Captain Tallen," the offered, grasping at something else from the swarm of questions she'd released, "We have a, uh, history, as I'm sure you're aware. You've met the woman, and I'm sure you'll agree that if there's one thing this unit needs right now, it's someone who isn't afraid to butt heads with the Captain: keep her in check. She won't listen to me, but boy does she listen to you. Hangs and seethes on every word."

His voice trailed off, and he let some of the token attempt at humour tumble away from his voice. "I need you on this team, Tur'enne," he said, voice thick with naught but honesty.

He paused a beat. "I want you to stay."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

For the first time in a long time, she had been struck downright speechless. Her rant had left her feeling utterly drained, exhausted from letting out some information while withholding some she dared not tread upon. Glayde, it seemed, had caught on to everything she had said and had even gone as far to understand there was more unspoken that, if Charles had her way, would never be spoken.

Every word he had spoken had more impact than any fist ever could have. There was so much to address, so much to respond to. The main was the absolute trust he apparently had in her and more to the point, was the fact that Charles knew it hadn't been misplaced. For every argument she had with the Major, for every disagreement, for every ounce of hatred... he was her CO, he was the man whose orders would determine their victory or failure, more importantly he was the one whose every decision dictated whether she lived or died. Despite her continual butting of heads with those of higher rank, Charlotte had decided early on that while she may not agree with the Major on all occasions, she did respect him. Which was far more than she could say for a lot of other officers. He pushed her buttons, got under her skin, but he did so in the same way the Lt. Colonel had... for her own damn good.

Saving the Major on Corellia hadn't even been a question in her mind. She didn't leave anyone behind, just as she hadn't been. Charles never expected to even remotely have the incident brought back to her attention. It hadn't even been worth mentioning in her opinion and no where in her thoughts did she expect it to have any sort of impact on Glayde.

The last comment about the Captain was just about the only thing that brought her out of her shocked silence, and as quickly as she almost found her wording it was lost again with his last declaration.

Charlotte's eyes slid to the datapad she had set down earlier and slowly she sat forward, reached around Glayde and put her fingertips on top of the datapad before sliding it back towards herself. The moment it left the table she took a deep breath.

"I never want to take an order from her. Ever." Her eyes met his as the datapad was tucked back into her pocket. Charles knew she wasn't in a position to make demands, but it came out anyway.

"Guarantee me that, and I can overlook the fact you seem to think my ability to get the team in and out of a building unnoticed is my strong point." It may have been that she was out of her mind at that point... but she actually managed a wink.

[John Glayde]

"That someone as eye-catching as you can go unnoticed," he countered, a slight lopsided grin flashing back at her in reply, "Only goes to show how good an infiltrator you are."

Dancing straight to the more gravitous issues that the Lieutenant had raised, Glayde dragged along with him as much of that small sliver of positive that they'd managed to stumble upon. "I can't promise that you'll never have to take an order from her, but I give you my word that I will do everything I can to limit your exposure to a bear minimum." He paused briefly, before correcting himself. "Or cat minimum, I guess."

The dark weight that Tur'enne strained beneath was far from gone, but the glimmer of optimism that Glayde had witnessed filled him with hope. He knew that far from repairing anything, he'd merely slapped on a field bandage to slow the bleeding; but with time, and a judicial application of called-in favours, there was a chance he could help her come to terms.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

It wasn't quite what she wanted to hear, but all things considered it realistically was the best he could offer. The fact he was quickly switching gears to carry some of the usual jesting banter that was becoming routine for her and the other members of Dorn allowed her to relax enough to build back up whatever guard it was she had let drop only moments before. It wasn't quite the usual impervious wall (that would take some time and probably several glasses of whiskey before her confidence could solidify that back in place) but it was enough to bring a halt to the downward spiral she'd been in. Now all that was left to do was wander around the destruction and look for larger pieces of her own sense of self to start re-laying the foundation with.

She had managed a small one time laugh in response. It was about as much of an agreement he would get from her at that particular moment as she looked away from him again. Her left hand rose up, elbow propping on the arm of the chair and the back of a few of her fingers was pressed lightly against her lips.

"You're aware I'll remind you of this conversation next time we get in an argument and you start threatening to court-martial me, right?" Her eyes flicked back to him, somewhat hoping he wouldn't bother to answer her. Another small "heh" left as she let her gaze wander away once more.

Her hand dropped away from her mouth as Charles fought back some childish habit she'd broken ages ago when it came to biting fingernails. "You know they sent me the report without so much of an offer of a few days leave? Someone's got a sick sense of humor." Another forced smile and another dry comment. "Worse than yours."

Then again maybe they thought they were doing me a kindness and forgot to read up on the loose cannon they opted to light the fuse of. Heh... loose cannon. Wasn't it that stuck up General that called me that the first time? Pretty sure he was mighty pissed off when he found out what I was being trained for too... aw well, Rask had my back then...

Slowly her eyes trained on the Major once more. Guess he's got it now, though...

"So... you wanna go back to telling me what a frak-up I am and forget this whole thing ever happened? Though before we go there, I just want to say..." Her eyes fell again. "I'm... I'm honored in the trust you place in me, Sir. I'll try and not let you down... you know, too often."

[John Glayde]

Glayde leant forward, offering a reassuring hand to Tur'enne's upper arm. "If you wind up letting me down," he said gently, "Odds are that neither one of us will be around for me to yell at you, so I wouldn't worry about it too much."

He gave her one last, reassuring smile, before ratcheting his professional retraint back up to full again.

"So," he said eventually, turning his eyes groundwards with a frown, reaching behind him for one of the datapads on his desk. "Back to being a frak-up." Thumbing the screen into life, he twisted the device so that Charlotte could read the information emblazoned upon it. "Care to explain to me why your brother is lying in the med bay with a broken nose?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Whatever magic Glayde had done with their talk, it worked. Only moments ago the mentioning of what happened in the gym would bring about a strange combination of guilt and that bubbling up of rage that had managed to work its way out... and then be taken out on her brother. As it was she only felt a slight twinge of remorse for putting Xander in the med bay. Only slightly.

I haven't seen him for 6 years, you figure it out. You want a reasoning other than he's my brother? He did sorta ask for it. It was a late Life Day gift, you know, inside joke. Well you basically answered our question by asking it... frak-up, silly!

"Stupid argument... well, partial argument. At least I didn't hit the Captain, right?" Not that I wouldn't have... even with her freak out into monsterville.

She scanned the datapad shortly and looked back to the Major. "It could have been worse." Her shoulders shrugged slightly as she looked away yet again. "It... might get worse. Somehow you managed to find the one person in the galaxy that apparently has worst self control than I do, you know?"

[John Glayde]

Glayde nodded, appreciative of her honesty. "You let me worry about Captain Tallen," he assured, and meant it. He may not have any idea of how just yet, but he would somehow find a way. He wasn't even sure he could do it alone; but if he had to, if that's what it took to ensure the wellfare of his people, the integrity of his team, and the wellbeing of Charlotte, his - what now, friend? - then somehow he'd find a way.

A frown ghosted briefly across his face; he ran contempative fingers across his jaw, kneeding briefly at his lips. "Protocol requires that I discipline you in some way," he offered, with a bite of reluctance in his words. Her words floated across his mind. You know they sent me the report without so much of an offer of a few days leave? His eyes rose. "Consider yourself suspended from active duty for the next ten days, Lieutenant. No missions; no briefings; no training. And if I so much as catch you anywhere remotely related to your job, I will throw you in the brig. Do I make myself clear?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

She smirked, it was forced somewhat, but it did reflect her next words perfectly. "Well...I'd respond with a 'crystal' there but you realize, in all technicalities, this entire ship and probably the whole sector we're in right now is relating to my job?""

A deep breath left her as her eyes rolled slightly and the smirk faded. "Ten days, huh? I guess I can keep myself occupied that long. Maybe hop planetside for a bit. You know, to keep from draining the ship's supply of alcohol."

Charles slowly got to her feet and let out a deep breath. "So I guess that covers all bases." Another sigh left her. Some part of her wanted to thank him, genuinely honestly wanted to but she'd already cried in front of the Major, he'd seen her at just about damn near close to her worst and some part of whatever sense of self preservation was making a comeback prevented her from saying anything.

It didn't stop her from quickly stepping forward and placing a soft kiss on Glayde's cheek though before she spun around and left his office.

[John Glayde]

Glayde remained, rooted in place as she left, eyes lingering on the doorway even after it had closed. Fingers from one hand rose to his feet, gently touching where her lips had briefly been. A phantom memory from Corellia danced through his mind; a recollection of that kiss he'd stolen, and earned her wrath. A sigh escaped from his lungs, body deflating in sync with the leaking air. Bad I idea, John, his better judgement advised.

"Probably right," Glayde muttered back, and with an effort ripped his boots free of the floor, retreating to behind the desk. He'd said that he'd do something about Captain Tallen - about Mara - and he planned to; but this wasn't the kind of thing he felt he could confront her about. He was- he searched for the made-up terminology that psychologists would use. Too close to the issue. Something like this.

No: to solve this problem, he'd need to call in back up. Air support, in fact.

He jammed a finger into the controls on his terminal, spurring built-in the comlink into life. A few quick manipulations of the controls opened a link to the Communications Officer that handled executive transmissions at this time of night. "Walter, it's Major Glayde," he stated, wincing slightly at the thought of what he was about to do. "I need you to get me a holo-comm link to Meeristali Peradun of Rogue Squadron. Priority One."