Willin'

[Quarles P. Dage]

How long had it been since he'd left Myomar? Years? A decade? Two decades? Well, even if he couldn't remember the specifics he knew at least that it'd been... a lot of years.

But that wasn't a bad thing; Myomar was home, and home had rolling fields and a climate that agreed with most folks; especially him. He'd been born there, and made his life there. Farmer and overland-hauler; an honest profession if there ever was one. His land was fertile and his rig was one of the old models that just never quit so long as you cared for it. He'd married, had children, and lived quietly and happily. For the most part. Over time his sons and daughter had all grown up, some staying while others left.

And now he was here, on an old Imperial space station.

He'd never had cause to leave Myomar, and at least before the treaty had been signed there'd never been any desire either. But, with the peace brought the chance to see those of his children who'd ended up on the other side of the border, and Quarles Dage found himself doing just that. Here on Jovan and unsure exactly if this was where he needed to be, the lanky elder Dage stood a good head above the rest of those around him as he departed the customs area, having been ushered through with barely a grunt from the official on duty.

With a shock of white hair and black-rimmed glasses that he'd gotten for his last birthday from his daughter, he waited patiently with the rest of the crowd in front of the bank of lift doors. He'd at least dressed up from his normal wardrobe, choosing to don his best pair of trousers, a crisply ironed button-up, and a sharp jacket that seemed more for show than anything else. His wife had once told him that he looked distinguished when he dressed up from his normal habits, and he knew that she'd be proud of him now with his attempts. His canvas strap-pack hung from his shoulders, and a small suitcase rested beside him, ready to be wheeled about towards any destination.

Five minutes later found him on what he guessed was the main concourse, standing amidst a sea of bodies. One hand had reached up to hold tight to the strap of his smaller pack, and the other clutched the handle of his suitcase.

Jovan Station was nothing like home.

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

"First tiime aan Joovan, eh?"

Gradoona didn't need to look hard to see the signs of a fish out of water. The old gent stood rooted in the path of foot traffic, with hardly an inclination of the next step he should take. The Herglic gently herded him away from an approaching crush of foot traffic.

"Ya lookin' foor quaarters? I can help ya ouut."

[Quarles P. Dage]

Not exactly expecting a mountain of a Herglic (they really were mountains, weren't they) to shuffle him away from the milling bodies, he was still grateful for the help, and an 'oh!' followed by a quick succession of movements to further facilitate the action of moving out of the way of others trying to get wherever they needed to be. He felt most definitely the starfin-out-of-water, and he supposed that he hellaciously looked it, as well. Someone attempting to scoot him to a quieter space certainly lent credence to that notion well enough.

"Well, ah... "

Still a bit shaken in his attempts to wrangle his few personal effects, Quarles couldn't help but put forth the picture of an older man who was a bit at a loss for how to act.

"I'm not really looking for quarters, no."

Finally satisfied that his strap-pack and suitcase were safe, he looked up to the Herglic.

It wasn't often that he had to actually look up to someone. Felt different.

"I'm ah... just sort of looking for someone, actually."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

"Ooh, maaybe I can help ya ouut, then!"

Gradoona moved over a smidge, allowing two Cizerack leading an eopie by a tether to pass. When they did, Gradoona extended her hand to the older gent.

"Name's Gradoona. I'm aan the station engineering staff, but thaats naat impoortant."

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Oh!"

His features brightened at that, immediately shifting upwards from the previous befuddled expression to one of unexpected delight, the corners of his lips pulling back into a wide smile.

"I'm Quarles, Gradoona. Quarles Dage." He reached out to meet her outstretched hand with a hearty grip of his own despite it being engulfed.

"Pleasure to meet you."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

Mid-handshake, the Herglic's blowhole squee'd in understanding the moment the old guy said his name. Gradoona gave him a closer inspection, her toothy beaked grin widening a little.

"Ahhhhh...yeeaah! I tootally can see the resemblance, eh? Two penguins in a paad. I mean, eh, you're praabably lookin' foor Commaander Dage then?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

What a stroke of luck! Not only a member of the station's staff, but one that it seemed knew Quentin!

Quarles let his smile widen.

"He's a Commander now?"

It was a far cry from when his boy had run off with Janus Kori's son to join up with the Rebels. Back then he'd wondered if his second youngest had merely been entertaining a flight of fancy to satisfy some rebellious streak.

The older man couldn't help the reflexive grip on the extended handle of his suitcase.

"If he's here, I was hoping to see him, yes."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

"Hmm, weelllll...I thiiink the Khera'vaa'ssio, er, thaats the ship the Commaander's aan, I thiiink she's naat due back to berth foor another day oor soo."

The Herglic pondered the whole in the meantime bit, then brightened up with a raised finger.

"But youu couuuld visit K'oohta'rrouu Meeoorrrei. She's, err...the Commaander's girlfriend. I think."

[Quarles P. Dage]

Meorrrei? Girlfriend?

Wasn't Quentin a little old to have a 'girlfriend? He'd figured his boy would either be married by now, or without a lady for his whole life. At least, the life that a young buck who joined a Rebel Alliance afforded. Which was... no woman at all. His thoughts quickly lidded, Quarles looked off into the distance for a moment before letting his gaze return to the throng of people just a few paces away. Each one had places to be and people to see. He supposed that he wasn't all that different from those around him.

His features lifted somewhat, in that way that older folks used to hide their mild disappointment.

"Of course!"

His brows descended then, in a heavy moment of considerate afterthought.

"If she's available, that is. I'd hate to disturb her if she's wrapped up in... ah... official business."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Three quarters Inaaki knot, madam."

"Ugh!"

T'yeellaa sighed, standing in front of the full-length mirror in her quarters. The hovering valet droid was nauseatingly patient with her flailing, and she was definitely flailing. She hated wearing the Raau'tirrau. Hated the multiple silken mantles, the shawls, the ribbons and bows and all of the silliness that went with it. It all felt so much like those long-ago teenage years, growing up the oldest in the Meorrrei house when heaps of expectations were thrown on her shoulders. This is how a lady dresses, her mother used to say. Yes. This is how a lady dresses. A lady with a pair of husbands to actually fit her into all this...

"Oof!"

The valet droid withdrew its manipulator arm, hovering back slightly.

"Too tight, mum?"

"jI want to brreathe, sso jyess!"

The droid went to correcting its work. T'yeellaa sullenly looked in the mirror. Yes, yes. Very pretty. Pretty useless. Why she couldn't attend this dinner in her uniform, she didn't know. The station's chapter of the Cizeri matrons of commerce had invited her, and the implication was that they were inviting T'yeellaa Meorrrei, daughter of Taataani, rather than K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei. Hence this ridiculous multi-layered thing. Then would come the ritual of peeling herself out of it to eat, then getting wrapped up all over again.

beep

T'yeellaa glanced back at the door with a panicked expression. Goddess, no visitors now!

"Who jiss jit?"

The voice on the other line was easy to pick up.

"Howdy-do K'oohta'rrouu, it's Gradoona. I gaat a special visitoor foor yaa, says he's come aall th' waay fraam Myoomaar."

Myomar. T'yeellaa's face was an unguarded expression of surprise. She was glad there was a door keeping that hidden for now. Myomar was Samus's home planet. Who could it be? He hadn't exactly been chatty about his own family, but T'yeellaa could at least imagine.

She gestured to the droid to pick up his work, and quickly.

"Gjive me...oof...gjive me fjve mjinutess pleasse!"

[Quarles P. Dage]

Standing to the side and just behind Gradoona, Quarles was a bit unsure of all this for a split second. He certainly didn't want to impose, and if his son wasn't due back to the station for another day he could just as easily find a room to rent...

"Are you sure this is ok? I don't want to be a bother."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

"Ooh, I'm suuure the K'oohta'rrouu doesn't miiind..." Gradoona breezily dismissed Quarles' worries with a grin and a handwave.

"She's naat the grumpiest Cizeraack I've met. Naat the nicest either, but yaknoo, I think aan the whoole, praabably above aaverage nice, if I had to say."

The Herglic rocked back and forth on her feet, stuffing her hands into utility pockets while she waited.

"She suuure is sweet aan Commander Dage thoough! He's definitely the penguin in her pieroogi!"

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Well then."

He'd never actually met a Cizerack, but he'd read about them and seen holos of them. They were exotic enough, and his wife had even managed to get her hands on Carshoulis silks which she'd sewn into a dress. To hear Gradoona describe the... K'ohta'rrou?... in such a way caused his features to crease in an expression of caution.

But those last words made him hope, and the lanky Myomarian let out a long breath, his eyes shifting forward once more as his lips couldn't help but turn upwards at the Herglic's phrase.

"Penguin in her pierogi, eh? That's a good sign."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

The door finally slid open, revealing T'yeellaa in full aristocratic array. Embroidered green silk mantle, goldenrod sashes and ribbons trussed around shoulders and waist. Her hair was drawn up into a tidy bun that was itself adorned with a gold band, matching the array of jewelry on her ears and fingers. She even wore makeup.

And of course, the first person she runs into is Gradoona Kriffing Pod-Floewander, who would be sure to tell half the station about all this in the span of an hour. She spread gossip like she needed to in order to stay alive!

So the first thing that T'yeellaa did was fix the herglic with a Don't you dare tell a soul sort of look, before softening her features into an unsure smile.

"Hello, jI'm T'yeellaa Meorrrei, and jyou'rre..."

Her ears rose in time with her eyes widening. Myomar. Tall and lanky. That grin.

"...Mjissterr Dage?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

Ever the gentleman, Quarles nodded his head respectfully at her well-educated guess. His smile never left, his eyes soft from behind his glasses.

"That would be me, yes." He seemed to draw up even taller, if that was possible, his shoulders hitching back with habit.

"Quarles Dage, Ma'am."

His free hand gestured to Gradoona.

"The young lady here was kind enough to point me in your direction."

Taking in T'yeellaa Meorrrei's current state of dress, the old worry began to percolate in his gut once more.

"I hope that I'm not disturbing anything?"

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

Gradoona mooned over something inconsequential-ish that was said.

"Aww gee...he called me a lady!"

Squee-clacking in Herglese, the mechanic bounced up on her tip-toes.

"Well, thaat suure puts the butter aan my penguin. Doon't mind me, I'll let you two caatch up!"

Grin wide as ever, Gradoona sauntered away.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

T'yeellaa waited for the decking to stop lightly thudding from the enthusiastic foot-falls of a flattered Herglic leaving the scene.

"Djissturrbjing? Oh...thjiss?"

She gestured generally towards the state of her attire, ears skewing in ambivalence.

"Jusst a djinnerr jI'm gojing to tonjight..." then she mumbled "...agajinsst mjy wjill."

Changing tact, T'yeellaa turned attention back to Dage the Elder, clasping her hand over his as she air-kissed to each side of his face.

"jItss wonderrful to meet jyou, jI...Ssamuss djidn't tell me jyou would be comjing, jI would have clearred mjy sschedule."

[Quarles P. Dage]

The air-kisses were unexpected, and he made sure to remain as still as possible lest he disturb whatever protocol was proper, and heaven forbid he'd done enough of that over the course of his life.

"Actually," he noticed her grip was strong and sure, filing that bit of knowledge away before going on.

"... he doesn't really know that I'm here. It was somewhat an unexpected trip on my end as well."

But, he was determined not to dwell on that for now, and instead went back a few paces to her apparent dismay at having to attend a dinner. Surely a dinner wasn't anything to be too upset over? Though, if he had to dress up to the extent that she appeared to be, he'd more than likely be a shade of perturbed.

"Either way, I wouldn't worry to much over cleared schedules."

Releasing his hold on his suitcase, he laid his hand over her own that still held his other, giving a gentle pat.

"I'm only here for a short time, since my flight back to Myomar is in a few days."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Jusst a few dajyss?"

T'yeellaa's brow knit. Damn, that wasn't much time. She'd wondered when and if this moment would happen, and now that it dropped in her lap, she was worried it was going to be squandered. Just a few days wasn't enough time to make real plans. Doubly so when gai'tou wasn't going to be back for another day.

"Well, do jyou have a place to sstajy whjile jyou'rre herre?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Honestly," there was a bit of almost-breathless exasperation in that single word, as he'd been confounded by the fact that his son was not already on the station.

"... I don't. I was counting on Quentin being here, and staying with him."

But, he brightened up regardless, putting on a brave face and a confident, reassuring smile.

"It's no matter, though. I'm sure that there are temporary quarters here that I can rent out, so I'm not too ill over it."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"No, no. Whjy don't jyou sstajy herre?"

T'yeellaa mentally paused, taking a mental inventory of how clean her domicile was. Satisfied that it would be fit for family guests, she redoubled.

"Take the bed. jI'll ssleep on the couch. Therre'ss no rreasson forr jyou to pajy forr lodgjing."

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Are you sure?"

Still standing out in the corridor, Quarles once more grabbed a hold of his suitcase, the strap-pack safely secured on his shoulders.

"I'm not here to be an imposition, and honestly it's my fault for not paying more attention to Quentin's schedules."

His free hand moved out from beneath hers to rest gently on her decorated shoulder, his smile turning gentle and thankful in the face of her generosity. It was an expression that held weight from his many years.

"I do appreciate the offer, though."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"jYou'rre not jimpossjing, Arr Dage. jI'm verrjy glad to meet jyou. And at leasst forr the dajy, jI have the room."

T'yeellaa gave the old man's hand a squeeze.

"Pluss, jI'd love to hearr all ssorrtss of sstorrjiess about Ssamuss grrowjing up. Herre, let me get jyourr bagss and get jyou ssjituated beforre jI'm drragged to djinnerr. jI'll excusse mjysself earrljy, and we can go out forr ssome caf?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

Ushered in, he was conscious to keep his arms close to his sides and his steps careful as she graciously had hold of his suitcase.

"Caf sounds wonderful."

And it truly did; after so many layovers a person got tired of the same food and drink being offered. Of course, that person also needed a small bit of rest once reaching their destination, and Quarles was no different.

"If it's all the same to you though, I'll probably just nap while you're out." His eyes went to the sofa, his gaze one of intent and winded determination. "Long legs and small seats don't exactly make for a good combination.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

T'yeellaa played ad-hoc host well, putting Quarles' things away in a tidy corner of the living room.

"Okajy, ljivjing rroom...bedrroom, the rrefrressherr jiss off to the sjide. The kjitchenette jiss on the farr end, but..."

She made a face.

"jYou mjight want to orrderr out jif jyou get hungrrjy. Let me gjive jyou mjy comm frrequencjy."

Drawing a flimsi from a holder on the desk, T'yeellaa scrawled out digits before passing them off to Mr. Dage.

"jI'm sso ssorrrjy jI can't sstajy jimmedjiateljy. Beljieve me, jI'd defjiniteljy rratherr not be gojing to thjiss djinnerr. jIss therre anjythjing jI can get forr jyou?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

Taking the flimsi, he smiled in thanks.

"Oh, I think I'll be fine. Nothing a little bit of rest won't cure."

Carefully the strap-pack was slid from his shoulders to be rested against his suitcase.

"Again... " he let his eyes travel across the interior of her quarters before once more returning to her. She looked unhappy about whatever dinner she had to attend, but there was also a degree of something else there that he couldn't quite figure out. Her clothing was immaculate, her hair expertly done, her entire posture was one of proper upbringing. It wasn't a bad look at all, and for a fleeting moment he had to wonder how his boy had managed to take her fancy - if what Gradoona had said was true.

His smile remained.

"... thank you very much for letting me stay, T'yeellaa."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"jI'm glad to have jyou asss a guesst, Arr Dage."

With a grin, T'yeellaa kissed his hand, and made her exit as gracefully as she could on heels.

Once out of her quarters, T'yeellaa fished her comm stick out of her purse (the very fact that she was carrying a purse was an annoyance) and dialed the frequency at the top of her favorites.

"Gai'tou, jyou bussjy?"

[Q. Samus Dage]

There was a muffled stirring on the other end of the comm before a slightly sluggish voice answered.

"Mmm? Kitten?"

A pause, as a cough sounded, followed by a slight groan.

"Kitten it's... " another pause, then the voice slurred onward.

"... it's two in the morning here."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Oh."

She halted, ears going askew. Of course she knew that. Galactic Naval Standard.

"Rrjight. Ssorrrjy."

It could wait. Except it couldn't. Grimacing, she pushed onward.

"jI jusst rran jinto an jinterresstjing guesst on the sstatjion, and thought jyou sshould know."

[Q. Samus Dage]

There was another bit of rustling to be heard, before his voice returned with only a touch less mumbling. It was still easy to tell though, that the man on the other end was only partially aware of the words being spoken to him.

"That's nice. Did you order another fluffy box to celebrate?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Quentjin."

It was said firmly and pointedly, in a way she'd carefully developed to shake loose his infamous half-awake fugue states. For as much as was said about Cizerack being needy with their sleep, humans didn't suffer a deficit with much dignity either.

"jIt'ss jyourr fatherr."

[Q. Samus Dage]

The silence on the other side was deep, and one might think that the blonde had zoned back into the blissful state of slumber once more, had it not been for rustling, another groan, and the word that followed.

"... what."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

T’yeellaa could feel the barometer dip with that one word. Her tail stilled as she slowed the pace of her walk to a stop.

”jIss that a bad thjing? jI thought jyou would be happjy to hearr about jit.”

A niggling feeling of doubt began to creep inside her head. Samus wasn’t exactly guarded about his family, he just usually didn’t talk about them. Not the way she did with her own. Had she made some critical misjudgment?

[Q. Samus Dage]

"No, no it's not a bad thing," each word came out slowly as the voice on the other end maintained its' rumbled pitch.

"Just... not what I expected to hear."

He could still remember the last time the two had talked; it had been when he left Myomar, and the elder Dage had not been happy, to say the least.

"Last time we talked, we weren't exactly talking, if you get my drift."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Oh." T'yeellaa's ears drooped a bit, and she tried not to audibly suck her teeth over the comm. "That bad, huh?"

Having a row with parents was definitely something T'yeellaa understood. Mother was particularly good at provoking a tiff, and her fathers occasionally pulled their own weight. Still, the family had a lot of cohesion that she took for granted. Maybe she shouldn't take it so lightly.

"jI've got that sstupjid djinnerr rrjight now, but jI've got hjim put up jin mjy quarrterrss. Jusst tell me what jI sshould do, and jI'll handle jit untjil jyou get home, okajy?"

T'y picked at one of the bows tied along her midsection, teasing but not unraveling.

[Q. Samus Dage]

And that was the real question, wasn't it?

"Honestly Kitten, I have no idea. I guess just do what you normally do, except with clothes on?"

A sigh as the silence that followed was undoubtedly full of sleep-addled yet serious thought. He was mostly awake now, but there were still vestiges of slumber evident in a few words.

"Though, you two would get along famously over some food. Last I knew, that angry old codger ate his steaks while they were still braying."

A thought solidified.

"Bring him some of your leftovers."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

Oil and water, these two. T'yeellaa raised an eyebrow at Samus's suggestion.

"jYou'rre kjiddjing."

But she knew he wasn't. She'd picked up his audible tells from experience.

"Well, jI can ssee about that. jI wass plannjing on gettjing out earrljy, mjight be tackjy jif jI took a plate to go. But jI can thjink of ssomethjing for hjim, forr surre."

She glanced ahead at the Tia'haako restaurant, making sure at the last minute that her fussily-coifed hair was still in place.

"Gotta go now, gai'tou. Ja irra. Ssee jyou ssoon."

[Quarles P. Dage]

* * *

Admittedly, his nap was a short one. He never really needed much sleep, anyway. years of working the land had bred in him a strange set of habits, and Quarles was never one to argue with his own internal clock. He'd fallen into a light slumber while sitting on the couch, a holo of some silly food show playing. It wasn't anything that'd held his attention, but it had certainly done a good job of making his eyelids heavy, and he'd allowed the inevitable to pull him into a state of sleep that was surprisingly restful and rejuvenating.

When he'd woken, he'd let out a long breath as the holo still droned on, and with a small stretch, rose to stand on bare feet. His small trek took him to the kitchenette, and ever-curius, he pulled the handle of the closest cupboard.

The first thing he saw was a box of cereal. Brightly colored, some fruity concoction. No doubt Quentin's. That boy had a strange affinity for brightly colored sugary foods.

The box beside it was of a chocolaty offering... Mandalorian Choco-Rockets?

A sigh, as he realized Quentin had still retained his childhood tastes with an iron grip.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

The door parted, and T'yeellaa returned back to her quarters, purse in one hand, and a pair of stacked cartons in the other.

"Arr Dage?"

Her eyes didn't have to travel far. The elder Dage was cupboard-shopping in the kitchenette. She smiled, her ears rising slightly.

"jI brrought jyou ssome taa'u nintaai forr djinnerr. Arre jyou hungrrjy?"

T'yeellaa kicked off her heels, padding to the counter to place both her purse and the takeout on top. She ached to let her hair down and get out of her silks, but she'd make sure the old man was fully taken care of first.

[Quarles P. Dage]

T'yeellaa's voice was a welcome one, and peaking around the corner of the upper cabinet, Quarles gave a wide smile in greeting.

"Ah! Welcome back!"

He'd hold off on trying to pronounce whatever words she'd called the cartons, and instead chose to address the much more easy subject at hand.

"I hope your dinner was pleasing enough," he knew she'd mentioned not wanting to go, but forged ahead anyway. Sometimes that was the best thing. "... even though you weren't too terribly keen on being there."

His feet shifted backward, as he made room for her to join him in the kitchenette.

"But now you're back," his smile seemed to tick up even more in thanks, "... and like an angel from the gods of hunger you come bearing gifts."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

It was easy to tell where Samus had gotten his raconteur's panache. T'yeellaa tried to keep her amusement to a smile and not an outright laugh, and it caused her nose to scrunch slightly.

"Well jI'm glad the djinnerr jiss overr. Not the besst companjy. jI wass lookjing at mjy chrrono half the tjime, and then jI had to put all thjiss..."

She gestured vaguely at her elaborate dress.

"...back on."

Letting out a breezy sigh, T'yeellaa let her arms fall flat at her side.

"Anjywajy. Enough about me, jI want to hearr about jyou. Ssamuss hassn't told me anjythjing!"

[Quarles P. Dage]

His smile seemed to pause, still present but... hovering. Eyes blinked from behind his glasses and his hands, which had by that time found purchase on the uppermost box of mystery food, froze.

"Hold on now," he started slowly, still trying to process exactly what he'd heard. His head tipped ever so slightly to the side, his gaze locked with hers.

"... 'back on'?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She grimaced, sucking her teeth slightly.

"Um."

Of course she had taken for granted how easy smoothing all the cultural bumps had been with Samus. Her ears bobbed and she squinted her eyes apologetically.

"That'ss a long sstorrjy."

Looking for a save, T'yeellaa spotted one on the counter behind the older human.

"Can jI get jyou ssome wjine?"

It wasn't good wine, but as far as the carton stuff went, it was exactly the sort of thing you over-poured when flicking aimlessly on the holo.

[Quarles P. Dage]

A long story. One that still confused him, but she had a look about her that spoke to her hope at avoiding that story - whatever it was - and Quarles let the matter rest. Instead he shifted back into motion, and carefully setting the box on the counter in front of him, his smile turned lively once more at her offer of wine. Her previous offer of caf was discarded in favor of a drink that he was fairly certain would be much less fuss. She did look glad to be back home, and he was not about to ask that she uproot and leave once more.

Her gracious actions already were well above what he could've hoped when he first stepped foot on the station.

"Oh yes, wine will be nice, thank you," a few deft motions yielded a satisfying pop from the box lid and he swung it open.

"If you don't mind my asking, how long have you two been... " a hand went up in an almost breezy gesture, index finger out and tracking a lazy circle in the air between them, "... with each other?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

Checking herself against being casually explicit in case Dage the Elder had a tendency to wilt like Commander Akiena, T'yeellaa skimped on any superfluous descriptors as to what exactly the thing was between her and Samus.

"Jusst overr ejight monthss now."

She decanted wine into unsophisticated polymer tumblers, handing one to the elder Dage before taking up her own.

"We met on asssjignment and...jI guesss we ljiked each otherrss companjy."

[Quarles P. Dage]

It was a telling that he could understand, and he allowed his smile to continue on unabated.

"That's wonderful! And a lot like how I met Quentin's mother."

The tumbler was held loosely, and he'd not yet taken a look to the open container of food.

"Bernice and I met at a dewback branding, and hit it off rather quickly. She was a firebrand back then, and I was just a ranch hand trying to make a living. Spent a good bit of time with each other before deciding to tie the knot."

Pausing with the tumbler halfway up, Quarles blinked in sudden thought.

"Has... he hasn't proposed yet, has he?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

T'yeellaa made pains to keep the amusement at the fringes of her expression. A Dewback branding? That was so painfully folksy. She'd visited a ranch once on Fey'dann as a kid. There wasn't anything fun to do there, so maybe people just had to invent their fun? Meeting someone special over jabbing hot metal against a cow? Love at first sight, huh.

"That ssoundss rromantjic. jI thjink."

She was taking a sip of wine when Quarles asked the next question. A look of confusion crossed her features.

"Prropossed?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

Her reaction was enough to tell him that no, Quentin had not asked that very particular question. An inhale and a sip from his glass, and his free hand again waved at the air to dispel her question.

"Eh, I suppose he hasn't. No matter."

His attentions went to the contents of the box then, and the food that she had brought him.

"So tell me about this delightful looking meal you've brought back?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

There was something unsaid here, and T'yeellaa made a note to file it for later. What was proposing? Some human custom no doubt, and she could possibly guess as to the meaning of it. Had she picked up some disappointment in his expression that she didn't know? Humans weren't easy to read at times.

Quarles diverted the conversation before she could dwell on it any longer, and she opened the carton lid for the elder man. Inside were thinly-sliced parcels of raw meat, showing a rainbow of colors, and an assortment of accompaniments like sauces, fresh herbs, and the like.

"jIt'ss taa'u nintaai. Ssorrt of sstrreet food back home. jIt'ss not much, but jit'ss qujick, and Ssamuss sseemed to ljike jit when he trrjied jit."

She hoped her picks were safe enough for Samus's father to approve. She wasn't sure if her gai'tou was more adventurous or less than the average.

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Taa'u nintaai."

He made sure to enunciate each word thoroughly, hoping against hope that he'd not butchered the language.

The sight of it though was enough to bring a wide smile to his features, and the elder Dage set his glass down before clasping hands together in carefully metered excitement.

"Oh!"

A quick look to T'yeellaa before his eyes returned to the meal she'd brought back.

"This looks amazing! Please tell me that the rest of the food from your world is like this," one hand reached out then, a thin slice of meat plucked up with two fingers as he carefully inspected the cut and level of preparedness.

"Not overdone, barely touched by a cooker, just a bare crisp on the edges for a light crunch to go with the actual taste of it all... "

He ignored the sauces for now, and deposited the slice into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. A few moments passed before her swallowed.

"Delightful!"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

Well, that was a relief.

"jI'm glad jyou ljike jit."

Dage the Elder was a lot more enthusiastic about it. Prying Samus's opinion about food was a struggle for him to nod and mutter "good".

"Prrobabljy sshould hold off on mosst Cjizerrji food though, unlesss jyou prreferr to catch jit."

At least it was a win for hospitality, and the K'ohta'rrou smiled. Maybe this was her moment. She jerked a thumb in the direction of the bedroom.

"Do jyou mjind jif jI, uh, get out of thesse ssjilkss?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

He was in the middle of another slice, one hand moving down to undo the lid of one of the sauce containers. A final chew and swallow, with fingers already plucking up a third slice, Quarles blinked as he stared at her for a moment, her words breaking through the delightful haze of rare meat.

"Of course!"

She looked uncomfortable enough, in those silly threads and shiny sashes that apparently she'd had to take off and put back on.

"Get comfy, by all means!"

The meat was dunked into the deep brown sauce as if in punctuation.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Thank jyou."

T'y nodded graciously, retrieving her shoes on her way back to the bedroom. The door slid shut. Ten minutes later, she returned in a more casual array of denims and a tee, with her hair down over her shoulders.

"Ahh," she sighed, "betterr. jI've had mjy fjill of forrmal djinnerrss forr the month."

She retrieved her wine, and left the kitchenette to sit on the couch, pushing to one side in an implied invitation for Quarles to join her.

"Sso, tell me about Ssamuss," she could barely contain the eagerness in asking the question, her eyes brightening with perked ears, "jI want to hearr about hjim grrowjing up."

[Quarles P. Dage]

He happily accepted the invitation, and took up his wine and food in a sweeping arm, only to delicately deposit it on the low caf table before taking up residence on the sofa.

"I can certainly tell you stories," a hand came up to adjust his glasses before going on. The smile on his lips was ever-present.

"Never had much sense when he was young though, so those stories might not paint him in a very flattering light."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

T'yeellaa's delight at that warning was manifest in a smile showing teeth.

"Ssometjimess embarrasssjing sstorrjiess arre fun too."

For her, that is. Oh he already got pink in the face over Quentin. She wasn't cruel, but there was something delightful in knowing those little things about your gai'tou that they didn't want anyone else to know.

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Well then."

Leaning back, he polished off another delightful piece of meat, chewing thoughtfully as he let his memories take him back. The glass of wine was reached for, and he washed his bite down with a modest sip before once more returning the cup to its' spot on the table.

"There was one time, when he wasn't but seven or eight cycles old... he had a sizeable enough collection of wooden Tinker Bricks that he always used to build settlements out of. Nothing too elaborate mind you."

Quarles let his eyes shift upwards to a spot on the ceiling as he remembered that particular day.

"One afternoon, he'd gotten it into his mind that he wanted to see what a smuggler camp looked like on fire; you know, the old frontier stories that a lot of the little ones were told, of how the law would sweep in and set fire to smuggler bases in an attempt to clean up the lawless planets. All very basic and normal for bedtime stories back then. Either way, Quentin had decided he wanted to see this for himself, and he went about building himself a smuggler base from his Tinker Bricks."

His hands moved to link together, fingers lacing with one another against his stomach.

"Problem was, he built his base at the foot of his bed, and his 'deadly fire laser blastgun' weren't anything but a plastic Sheriff Ander dart gun that Bernice had picked up at the local market. Normally it just shot those little plastic darts, but he'd managed to fit the tip of one of those darts with a bit of priming powder and dried grass."

He couldn't help the laugh then, a motion that caused his eyes to close in the throes of the memory.

"He got to see what a smuggler's base on fire looked like, alright; as well as the corner of his bed."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Oh!" T'yeellaa cupped a hand over her mouth in sympathy shock, but also to muffle a peel of laughter that threatened to follow.

"Goddesss, jI hope everrjyone wass okajy? jYou musst have been ljivjid!"

For want of old holos, T'yeellaa tried to imagine the scene in her head, but she couldn't quite turn back the clock and mentally make a cub out of Samus. It was just him, but smaller.

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Oh, everything was fine in the end, just some scorched bedposts and stern lectures about setting fire to things. He was a curious boy growing up, and Force knows Bernice and I didn't want to stifle him or kill his curiosity. He got in trouble without a doubt, but we weren't about to tan his hide with a switch from the ragwillow bush out back."

A final chuckle as the memory faded, and Quarles leaned forward to pluck up another thin slice of flesh, foregoing the sauce. He deposited it into his mouth with a satisfied 'mmmm', chewing slowly. It really was delightful, this food. It reminded him of the many meals he had enjoyed back home.

Swallowing, he looked to T'yeellaa.

"And you? Growing up I'm sure you were a difficult one to keep up with."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

To her chagrin, T'yeellaa couldn't agree with that. She was envious of Samus's free-wheeling suddenly.

"jI'm the fjirrsst-borrn, and mjy parrentss made cerrtajin that jI djdin't venturre verrjy farr frrom thejirr expectatjionss. No bedposst fjirress forr me, jI'm afrrajid. jI had to follow all the rruless. All mjy jyoungerr ssjibljingss werre the oness who got to get awajy wjith everrjythjing, and bjy the tjime jI rrealjized jit, jI wass too old to rrealljy pussh the boundarrjy."

She made a face, and flicked an ear.

"Orrrrr....majybe jI'm pusshjing the boundarrjy jusst forrtjy jyearrss too late."

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Oh?"

That she was the oldest child made sense, as far as her telling went. Elder children rarely had the long leash that their younger siblings invariably possessed. But, her talk of a late-blooming rebellion was enough to cause his eyes to focus on her, trying to pick apart the woman he sat beside.

"What sort of dastardly revolt have you formed up, then?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She laughed softly, averting her eyes a she shook her head. Dage the elder was affable and charming, and she was enjoying talking to him, even if he was poking into dirty laundry.

"jI went jinto the mjiljitarrjy. jIt'ss...not exactljy a Meorrrei trradjitjion, and cerrtajinljy no when jyou'rre the fjirrsst. Mjy motherr wanted me to take overr the bussjinesss one dajy, and jI guesss jI wassn't comforrtable wonderrjing jif jI wass accompljisshjing ssomethjing mjysself, orr jusst curratjing the famjiljy legacjy."

Which, she realized, had a lot of parallels to Samus's situation, though the motives differed.

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Well!"

His features remained uplifted, and Quarles reached over to give her shoulder a hearty yet strangely gentle clap of encouragement.

"I'd say then, that you're doing a wonderful job of finding your own self, T'yeellaa. I'm sure that being here on this admittedly impressive space station is a wonderful chance to prove your capabilities."

Once more he leaned back, eyes moving to stare at the half-eaten meal she'd brought him. A lull in the conversation was filled with another deft grab of a slice, a quick dunk into one of the sauce cups, and an immediate journey to his mouth.

"It took me a long time to realize," he continued finally, after swallowing. His voice had taken on a bit more of a sombre tone, though there was still the Dage family lilt heavily lacing each word. "... that there are some sons and daughters who aren't meant to continue the family business, and that is a good thing; it lets them grow into the people that they need to be."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"jIss that how jit wass wjith Ssamuss?"

She was skirting into dangerous territory with the question, but curiosity had piqued her interest. Samus was full of war stories, sure, but he'd always been a little light on details on what pushed him from the son of a rural backworld rancher to a leader in a galactic rebellion.

"jI mean," she regrouped with a polite cough, "jI fjind jit a sstrruggle ssometjimess to underrsstand hjim. We'rre aljike jin sso manjy wajyss. We ssharre a ssensse of dutjy, a sstrreak of competjitjive urrge, and jI thjink a drrjive to do good, but we come frrom ssuch djifferrent sspacess. Therre arre thjingss jI take forr grranted that he'ss rrealljy had to sstrruggle forr, and jI trrjy to be mjindful of hjim and alsso to rresspect hjiss boundarrjiess."

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Ah, not exactly, no."

There was a tinge of sadness that could be found within his smile, and his eyes moved to stare past her.

"Quentin and I didn't often see eye to eye on anything, really. And after he left, we only ever talked if it was absolutely necessary, or if Bernice made us."

A long breath, and he let himself lean a bit further into the cushions.

"But before he left, when he was still knee-high to a butterbug, it was easy to figure the hard stuff out. Course the 'hard' stuff tends to get harder as they grow."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

T'yeellaa resisted the urge to suck her teeth as she felt she stumbled into something uncomfortable again. But the feeling passed as soon as Quarles breezed over it like he too wasn't keen to dwell. Another homespun turn of phrase nearly knocked her off balance.

"jI, uh, knee-hjigh to a what?"

What was it about Myomarian basic that just threw her so much? It seemed like half of Samus's rural dialect used obscure turn of phrase. She stopped a laugh, transmuting it into a rich smile as she shook her head.

"Ssamuss doess that all the tjime. jI don't know what half of that meanss. jI love to hearr hjim talk. Guesss he getss that frrom jyou."

[Quarles P. Dage]

To that, all he found himself able to do was smile, offering a genteel nod to her. If Quentin had picked up some of those old bits from when he was growing up, then all the better. It was a small point of pride that the boy's heart was still on Myomar.

"Well... " he reached up to remove his glasses so that he could wipe away any collected dust from the lenses with the small, folded bit of cloth in his shirt's chest pocket.

"... he had a way with words from the moment he first opened his mouth to say his first word."

A moment passed, as his fingers rubbed the cloth into each lense, and with a smirk, Quarles let his gaze shift so that he could look at her from the tops of his eyes.

" 'Mine', by the way. His first word was 'mine'. It was a good indicator of the sort of child Bernie and I had on our hands."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Huh." T'yeellaa held mild surprise on her face at Quarles' admission of Samus's formative youth. "Could've fooled me wjith that. He grrew up to be sselflesss."

She almost frowned.

"Frrusstrratjingljy sso."

[Quarles P. Dage]

"The you should be more careful of Dage men," the words were spoken with a healthy amount of mirth, and Quarles couldn't help the wink he sent her way as his glasses were returned to their normal place.

"But, in all seriousness, if his time in that old Rebellion changed something, then he's better for it."

His eyes shifted then, to the mostly empty take-out container that he'd done well to pick at. His eye seemed to stare past it, and on through the table and even the thinly-carpeted deck. A moment later his gaze returned to T'yeellaa.

"And you? How have you changed since leaving home?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

He laughed at his own joke, and T'yeellaa mimed the laugh with a dash of grimace. Probably best not to get into details on how frustrating it was to do nice things for a man who was busy at every turn trying to match your own move. Sure, it was sweet, but T'yeellaa wished that just once or twice, he'd let her have that moment unchecked.

The questions then turned to her, and the K'ohta'rrou squirmed slightly at the moment of introspective.

"jI guesss jI've learrned to ssajy no a few tjimess. Guesss jI alsso don't take everrjythjing sso sserrrjioussljy anymorre. When jI left forr the academjy, jit wass on bad terrmss. Mjy motherr made cerrtajin that sshe wouldn't ssupporrt me, sso jI had to learrn how to do that, but jI thjink that'ss what jI wanted the mosst. To be mjysself, not jusst ssome djynasstjic extenssjion of mjy motherr."

There was something bittersweet there, and she shook her head.

"And now that jI've done that, sshe'ss come back jinto mjy orrbjit, prrajissjing me ljike jit wass herr jidea. Majybe jI haven't changed enough."

[Quarles P. Dage]

Quarles only nodded, not wishing to cast judgement on a woman he had never met. But, he at least offered something.

"I've a feeling that a mother's job is to drive her children almost to the brink of madness. Bernice did it to Quentin and Coraline just about every day."

Leaning over then, he carefully closed the lid on the container. That done, his wrist shifted so that he could glance at the old-fashioned, leather-banded chrono he wore. It was later than he'd realized.

"I, ah, I hope you won't think me too much of a wet blanket," his smile was apologetic as he spoke, "... but you wouldn't mind if I turned in for the night, would you?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Not at all." T'yeellaa rocked slightly on her heels. "jI wouldn't mjind gettjing sshut-ejye mjysself."

She jerked her thumb towards the bedroom.

"Bed'ss made up and wajitjing forr jyou. jI'll be on the couch jif jyou need anjythjing. Mjy chrrono jiss sset earrljy - zerro-fjive-hundrred sstandarrd. jYou don't have to get up, but jI'l make tea jif jyou do."

The K'ohta'rrou leaned in, and kissed Mr. Dage on the cheek.

"jIt'ss been loveljy gettjing to know jjyou. Pleassant drreamss."

[Q. Samus Dage]

* * *


Arrival at Jovan had become a procedural affair, and Samus Dage went through his tasks and duties with the ease of a man that'd done those things a multitude of times. Which, he had; and while the locales often changed, the procedures never did. Calling entrance vectors, declaring intentions to dock, confirming berth with port control, all of it. Even the act of policing up his possessions for their two-day layover was done efficiently. Of course, about all that entailed was packing up a few sets of clothes and a freshly pressed uniform.

The captain had offered to handle the more mundane tasks, and he had let her with a grateful nod. As the two strode down the length of the umbilical, he flexed his fingers around the handle of his small duffel.

"You're nervous."

He knew she wasn't prying with any niggling fingers in the Force... it wasn't her way. He supposed that his body language - a slight stiffness in his gait that was normally fluid and easy, shoulders pulled back and tense - gave him away. Still though, he couldn't help falling into the old needling habits.

"Second-sight only gets you so far," his free hand came up to playfully tap at the back side of the datapad she carried beneath a folded arm.

"You're not making it difficult to see."

"I suppose I'm not."

She slowed to a stop, and he followed suit.

"When was the last time you saw him, Samus."

Looking down at her, he couldn't help the dark turn his features took.

"Whenever Kori and I left Myomar."

"A while, then."

He looked away, eyes tracking to their destination.

"A while."



* *


He'd parted ways with Captain s'Ilancy, her heading for the Command Hub and he toward the officer's section of the habitat ring. It was a short journey that he'd come to know well. This time though, he took his time. He meandered his way through the throng of bodies on the secondary merchant's level, and trudged down the corridors he'd traveled down plenty of times in the past. Ultimately it wasn't long before his destination was before him.

His duffel was set down, and he squared his shoulders. Expression becoming level, Samus tugged at the hem of his uniform jacket, then dusted any unseen particles from the front of his chest before lifting a hand and reaching out to depress the chime button.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

The pause was only a few seconds before the door sighed open. An unusually awake T'yeellaa greeted Dage with a smile and a kiss.

"Good morrnjing, gai'tou."

She rebounded into the kitchenette at once, tail switching with steadfast determination. There was an unusual aroma of cooking food hanging in the air. T'yeellaa returned to the counter, furiously thumbing through a datapad with a recipe as she sorted through a haphazard arrangement of food items laid out in preparation. She hadn't yet begun the ritual of buttoning herself into her crimsons, opting instead for the casual array of pajamas that didn't mind the occasional splatter of a skillet. Still, this was unchartered territory to say the least. She was deeply distracted, peering over the necessary steps to recreate a Myomarian breakfast - or at least her best attempt at one. It was part alchemy, part bomb disposal. So far, she hadn't set anything on fire that wasn't supposed to be on fire.

Realizing that she'd given Samus very short shrift, T'yeellaa finally looked up from the pad. She placed a finger over her lips, and gestured to the closed door of her bedroom.

"He'ss sstjill assleep. jI'm makjing brreakfasst."

Breakfast, and a mess. She raked the shattered remnants of an eggshell off the counter top and into her hand, then lamely scraped her hands clean over the disposal.

[Q. Samus Dage]

It was the smells from inside that hit him first, followed closely by T'yeellaa's pecking kiss.

"Is that... "

He trailed off, his words dashing away from him with the same sense of rapid deployment that she had employed to return to the kitchenette. Slowly, he stepped inside so that the door could at least close.

Shaak bacon, thin-sliced tubers waiting to be dumped into the leftover rendered fat once those crispy pink strips were removed, a bowl that he guessed held at least eight nuna eggs, and even a cutting board that had a few thin-cut dewback flanks ready to be flash-seared. It was all very... different. It was a sight he'd never thought he'd ever see, and standing in the front entryway, Samus could only stare, still clutching his duffel.

Her words were met with a hurried look to the closed door of her bedroom. He was still asleep. In her bed. In the bed that both of them had many times spent very-much-not sleeping, where they'd...

He scowled, banishing the thought away to the aether. So long as his father didn't find a leftover sajoi tail under a pillow, or worse yet - a pile of bright blue feathers and a small, single, solitary clawed foot...

Instead, he chose to go the route of feigned hurt, finally setting his bag down silently.

"How come you never made me breakfast... ?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She overpoured blue milk from the carton into a measuring cup, cursed, and began to pour back into the carton from the cup to strike a balance. Then it registered that he'd asked her a question.

"What?"

Her eyebrows knit in objection, and she racked her brain. That couldn't be right.

"jI've made jyou brreakfasst beforre."

Holding the cup of milk hesistantly over the bowl of eggs, she began to pour in a careful stream. Okay, so she hadn't made him all this, but maybe there was a reason for that. She'd found herself in a quagmire.

[Q. Samus Dage]

Finally he moved, letting himself sidle close as his stomach began to edge out past his trepidation.

"Throwing a box of Mando Choco-Rockets at me does not count," he murmured, inspecting her handiwork.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She grimaced as her ears sagged. Okay guilty, but there was a silver lining here.

"Well, now jI can make brreakfasst forr both of jyou." She grinned toothy confidence before glancing back at the datapad. A moment later she brandished a whisk, and began to clumsily emulsify the milk and egg mixture. All the while she was ever-conscious of her gai'tou's eyes hovering over her handiwork. She worked slow, mindful not to slosh over the bowl's rim or do anything else that might cause Samus to suck his teeth, or worse, offer to intervene.

"Sso..." she ventured, glancing over her handiwork to Samus. It wasn't a mystery what she intended to ask about, and it wasn't about the state of her cooking.

[Quarles P. Dage]

The sound of the bedroom door opening was soft, but audible enough to be heard over the sound of the sizzling crackles of almost-finished shaak bacon, and Quarles - fully dressed and bright-eyed - carefully stepped through the threshold. He'd heard his son's voice, and as such his pace was methodical. Not slow, but not fast, either.

With both thumbs hooked into the front beltloops of his trousers, the lanky Myomarian strode out into the main living area with an almost forced casual air. He slowed to a rambling stop at the thin metal border that separated the thin carpeting of the living room and the tempered durasteel slats of the kitchenette.

His chest rose and fell, and his eyes never left his middle child.

"Good morning, Quentin."

[Q. Samus Dage]

He felt his back stiffen at the sound of the door opening, and taking a step back to put distance between himself and T'yeellaa, Samus rolled his shoulders as habit took over. Both hands went to grasp one another at the small of his back, and he turned so that he was facing the approaching figure of his father.

Gods, the old wampa hadn't even had a strand of grey in his hair when he'd left home, but now?!

Shock white...

For a moment after the initial greeting, Samus found himself slightly speechless. Of course his father was as rangy as ever, a testament to his life on the ranch.

Finally.

"Good morning, Sir."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

Her eyes widened. She tried to appear nonchalant, but the change that fell over Samus in an instant was bizarre. He spoke to his father almost like he was a superior officer. Hands behind his back. Sir. Her ears twitched, and she tried to act like she was minding her own business by returning to the omelette.

[Quarles P. Dage]

For a few quiet moments he stared. Quentin had certainly filled out, and matched him in height. He had his mother's features, and while overall he'd not changed too awful much, there was still a sense of completeness to him now. Perhaps that little Rebellion had been a good thing?

A few more seconds of study, and he reached up to pull his glasses off, giving them an idle polish with a soft slip of fabric that his offhand had pulled from a front pocket.

"We aren't back home, Quentin, and you're not twelve years old anymore. No need to follow those old rules."

The glasses were replaced, and he finally offered a smile. It was a cautious one, and not as easy-going as the night before.

"Now."

The slip of fabric was also replaced in his pocket, and Quarles stepped forward to cross the unseen threshold and enter the kitchenette proper, choosing to pass by Quentin and take up residence on the other side of T'yeellaa in a show of inspecting her morning adventure. It was certainly a spread, and out of instinct he took up the pair of tong that were sitting on the countertop before gently probing the strips of bacon.

"Perfect," he grinned.

[Q. Samus Dage]

Even despite all of the years removed, Samus felt it difficult to step out of that old string of habits, but he forced him to anyway as his father moved on, sidling his way over to the other side of T'yeellaa and engaging himself in the breakfast-making activities. With a long, low exhale, the rangy blonde let his shoulders loosen, and his hands returned from behind his back to stuff themselves in the front pockets of his pants.

A step brought him to the counter, and he idly watched the goings-on.

Slowly, a ghostly grin returned, halfway fueled by relief, and his voice held a small bit of rueful teasing.

"You're lucky; she's never made me breakfast like this before."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She remembered herself in that moment, and T'yeellaa pivoted towards the sink to wash her hands, cutting her eyes back to Samus before rolling them.

"jYou don't even know jif jit's gojing to be good, gai'tou. jI don't know what jI'm dojing. Nobodjy everr told me all thjiss wass sso jinvolved."

Her attention had been diverted, but she caught peripheral movement just in time to see old man Dage pilfering one of the few finished rashers resting on a cooling rack.

[Quarles P. Dage]

Transferring a the strip of bacon from the tongs to his waiting fingers, Quarles carefully broke it into two halves.

He smiled at the interaction between his boy and T'yeellaa, the partially turned to hold out each half to the two. It was a spot of normal for this moment, and only served to remind him of so many morning back home.

"Here. Bacon tax."

[Q. Samus Dage]

Samus needed no extra bidding, and greedily reached out to take his portion. It was as though he was young all over again, with the wonderful scents filling the air around him and the sounds of cooking food filling his ears.

He took a quick bite, then gave a small nudge to T'yeellaa's shoulder.

"Game face, Kitten. You'll like it."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

T'yeellaa's eyes flicked from Dage to Dage. Of course, the old man had been more than game last night, so any refusal here would be pretty weak. She took the offered piece of bacon, turning it over in her fingers. Like a lot of human food, it had the look of the familiar, but passed through alchemy and whimsy. If this was taa'u nintaai, the offering would have been jaar'ii dasshrree, the belly cut. She'd recognized it immediately when she opened the package. Now? The color had changed. The consistency changed. There was a smell that she couldn't scarcely begin to place. Big questioning blue eyes fixed onto Samus even as she woodenly pressed the bacon onto the tongue of her open mouth like a communion wafer. Her mouth closed. She chewed. Instantly, her blue eyes brightened.

[Q. Samus Dage]

Still chewing, Samus chose to allow her to fill his vision. He knew that look, and he loved seeing it. It was usually accompanied by a surprised smile, with ears that ticked up, sending those cute little tufts fluttering for a bare fraction of a second. He couldn't see her tail, but he was fairly certain that the poof of soft hair at the tip stood on end for a moment before smoothing down once more.

He didn't need to say a word, and popping the last of his half into his mouth, he gave her an encouraging look coupled with an enthusiastic nod that said 'see???!'

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

So there were those rare moments of human serendipity where they got food right. Bacon was instantly high on the list. One bite instantly pushed the silky, over-rich jaar'ii dasshrree to a trifling second place. In fact, T'yeellaa was hard-pressed to remember what she'd specifically liked about the familiar preparation. Her brain was too busy cataloguing bacon and it's exotic texture, saltiness, and smoke? Samus had made her try barbecue once and she'd hated it. That was smoked, he said. This? Yes, that did sort of taste the way smoke smelled. She cupped a hand over her mouth, discretely breathing into it to then draw the residual aroma to her nose.

Samus was staring at her. Arr Dage was staring at her. She was starting to feel like a science experiement. She swallowed, almost reluctantly, wanting to prolong the moment.

"Not bad." She tried nonchalant. She had no talent for it. The corners of her mouth betrayed her.

[Quarles P. Dage]

Quarles graced her with a wide grin, even as he wielded the tongs like a man who did it for a living.

"Those baby-blues of yours tell me it's a shade more rosy than 'not bad'," he teased, giving her a parting wink before returning to the stovetop.

[Q. Samus Dage]

Not bad.

Sure.

Samus knew that look, and his own wide grin matched his father's.

"Well, I suppose humans can get a few things right."

Moving to the sink, he activated the faucet with the pass of a hand so that he could rinse away the greasy residue that his half of the bacon slice had left on his fingers. He would've let her lick them clean if he didn't think she'd try to take an actual bite.

Or, you know, if his father hadn't been here.

His hand was kept beneath the slow trickle of water for a small bit longer than normal at the thought of the strange situation.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She rolled her shoulders as she nodded.

"jYeah, jyeah. Okajy. jI ljike the bacon."

T'yeellaa glanced to the bowl full of yellow viscous goo.

"Now, let'ss ssee how the rresst of jit goess. Whjy don't jyou both go ssjit on the couch and jI'll brrjing jit out when jit'ss done, ne?"

Before he could object, T'y stepped into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist to tether them into whisper range. She rested her chin on his chest.

"Lookss ljike the two of jyou could usse ssome catchjing up."

[Q. Samus Dage]

His arms fell over her shoulders in a strangely protective way.

"Catching up," he repeated somberly, as though he was about to step into the dentist's office to have every last one of his teeth torn from his mouth.

Another moment later, and he let her go before stepping forward. One hand went out to give his father's arm a gentle tap.

"Come on; we're being sent away."

[Quarles P. Dage]

A look of mild surprise passed over his features, but Quarles only gave a nod as he carefully set down the tongs and followed after Samus. A game smile to T'yeellaa, and the elder Dage let his son lead the way into the living area.

Both chose their seats - Samus one of the chairs, and Quarles the end of the sofa.

With T'yeellaa now firmly in charge of breakfast, he let his hands rest on his knees, not exactly sure where to place them. A finger tapped his leg, as his gaze settled on Samus. The boy was seasoned from his years away, and there was a seriousness present that hadn't been there before he'd left Myomar.

"So."

How to start?

"How've you been?"

[Q. Samus Dage]

Leaning back only so much in the chair, Samus let his shoulders relax as much as he was able, hands hanging over the edges of the armrests.

How had he been?

That was a hell of a question.

"I'm still alive," he started almost ruefully, his voice low.

"Mostly it's just work and time spent here."

There was a silence then, as he gauged his father's reaction. It seemed about normal, so he went on.

"And you?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Oh, I'm fine. Everything back home is about the same as usual."

His answer came out quicker than he'd meant it to, and he couldn't help the accompanying nod.

"Calving season finished up about a week ago, so we've got a spot of rest for a little bit before the brandings start."

A hand came up then, to remove his glasses so that he could inspect their cleanliness.

"Coraline married about five years ago, but last I heard she and her husband were having a bit of trouble and she was living on her own in Banton Reach. Micah bought the Tamriy's farm, and so we've been helping each other out."

[Q. Samus Dage]

He wasn't surprised that Coraline had married and then decided to apparently go it alone; his younger sister was always a bit of a contrarian in that way. Equally unsurprising was that his older brother had cut himself living from the Myomarian soil; Micah was always that sort. Never had any interest to leave.

"Sounds about like normal then," he rumbled in answer.

"And Mom?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

It was a question he knew would come, and Quarles let his eyes fall, staring to the glasses still in his hands.

"Well... "

He pulled in a long breath.

"Your mother passed on," the words were still almost too difficult to get out, "... it's... been a month since, well... since then."

[Q. Samus Dage]

The quiet that hung over them increased, like it'd grown impossibly heavy. Samus stared at his father in quiet shock, unsure of how to exactly go on. He could hear T'yeellaa working in the kitchen, but the sounds of her cooking began to fade away as his thoughts and memories became overwhelmed.

One breath.

Two.

He didn't even want to know how; not right now, at least. No, it was the simple finality of it that was causing every bit of his childhood to crumble around him, taking with it pieces of the present. His brow knit, and he frowned as he looked to the floor.

And without a word, the blonde rose to stand. He felt a collapse somewhere within him, and saying nothing, headed briskly for the front door. It opened, and he stepped past the threshold and out into the corridor, his long-legged gait taking him away.

Away from reality and away from everything.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

The clang and sizzle from the kitchenette faded into quiet. T'yeellaa moved into the living area holding two plates. Her face broadcast ambivalence, and she paused before presenting the plates to her gai'tou and his father.

"jIt doessn't look ljike the pjicturre on the rrecjipe," she cautioned.

What had at one point been omelette shaped had come to rest on each plate in a clumsily-folded rumple. The bacon was bundled tidily to one side, and the sliced veg was uneven at best. T'yeellaa was ready for critiques, but as she presented each plate it was hard to notice the expressions on the face of each man. Suddenly it seemed like a less-than-ideal breakfast wasn't all that heavy on their minds. It made the situation even more awkward.

And then suddenly, gai'tou rose on unsteady legs, and hurriedly pushed to leave their quarters.

"Gai'tou?"

Her ears perked then lowered, and she looked back to Dage the elder, feeling out of the loop and useless - anchored in place by the two plates she was holding.

[Quarles P. Dage]

Hoping to make her feel less awkward, Quarles dashed to his feet, reaching out for one of the plates while his free hand moved to her shoulder.

"It's ok, he'll be ok."

He hoped.

Truthfully it wasn't exactly the way that he thought Quentin would take the news, and he did what he could now to alleviate the look of worry that he now saw in his host's eye. The plate he held was gently set on the low caf table, and he did his best to guide T'yeellaa to do the same.

"My trip here, well, it wasn't exactly one made to deliver the best of news," he acknowledged.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

The way Quarles kept his eyes lingering toward the door told T'yeellaa he was probably being more polite than truthful. She let him take his plate, and hovered awkwardly in a few moments of indecision with the plate that was meant for gai'tou. Her first instinct was to go after him, find him and fix what was wrong whatever that might be. But she still didn't know what that was. Maybe if she rushed headlong, she might do more damage than good. So T'yeellaa swallowed back that first instinct and took the seat next to the elder Dage. Her appetite was gone, and she placed the second plate on the caf table, lacing her fingers together in her lap.

"Arr Dage," her ears angled lower as worry darkened her voice with a husky hue, "what'ss wrrong?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

For a moment, he couldn't meet her eyes. They were wide and round and so purely blue and full of a level of concern for his son and whatever he might say next. They held a sort of innocence that he was sad to shatter.

"I'm not exactly visiting because of happy news, T'yeellaa."

Reaching over then, he took her hand up, holding it tight in an age-weathered grip.

Everything that he'd spoken of about Bernice had perhaps been a form of therapy for him, to help him deal with the loss. And whether she understood or not, T'yeellaa had helped him by simply listening to the stories of his wife. The memory of his wife.

"Bernice... she passed away; a month ago."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

T'yeellaa didn't say a word at first. She held onto his hand and reciprocated his intensity. There was a lot unsaid in that human sort of connection that she'd learned from Samus and now applied with her own feelings that ran in a kind of grieving parallel. She cupped her left hand over the back of Quarles', encasing it in a double embrace. She could feel the rough callouses on the pads, the creases and bulges at the knuckles. He worked for a living - the kind of work no one in her own family could quite relate to. She'd noticed it the first time Samus had taken her hand as well. It wouldn't be quite as pleasant if you didn't understand the what and the why of those hands becoming like that.

In the quiet, she reassessed the man sitting next to her. He'd worked with his hands to support his family - as hard or harder as her own mother had taxed her mind and wits to keep her own family together and everyone under their name safe and happy. She could feel the strength in his hand, but also the ebb too. There was frailty in the slight quaver needed to keep his grip fast. She caught the briefest glimpse of a glaze in his eyes before he blinked to banish it. She had seen this side-effect of death once before.

"Wass jit peaceful?"

She spoke low, keeping her eyes on his covered hand, rather than hazarding a look up at his eyes. She didn't know Bernice Dage. Quarles' wife only existed in the stories of her raconteur son, and those were few and far between. But she did know that the last thing Quarles would want - and the last thing she'd wanted to hear when it happened to her - was I'm sorry. It was well-meaning, sure. But it didn't help anything.

[Quarles P. Dage]

"It was."

The second hand over his was reassuring and comforting; strange, how a woman you only barely met the evening before could give such a feeling.

"The doctors said that it was a brain aneurysm, and that it was instant, and that she didn't suffer."

She stared at their joined hands, and so did he. He didn't want to look up or over or to the floor.

"Coraline stayed with me for the first week. She made sure I got out of bed every morning, ate, and went out to tend the calves. Micah helped after that. I'm... mostly better, except that it's not the same anymore. Every day now the sun comes up, and she's not there."

His free hand set his glasses on the table, next to the plates.

"She and Quentin were always so close, and she'll never get to see the man he is now."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"jI'm glad sshe djidn't ssufferr."

T'yeellaa's thumb traveled over the ridged crease of Quarles' index finger knuckle, passing back and forth as she metered her words.

"jI wjissh jI could have met herr. jI would have loved to sharre sstorrjiess about Gai'tou. jI guesss thatss the harrd parrt, jyou know, when jyou go to look and thejy arren't arround. jYou had ssomethjing to ssajy, orr jusst wanted to ssee them forr no rreasson."

Relating could only get so far. She was going to have to share. To do that, T'yeellaa had to confront her own absence.

"Mjy fatherr djied about a jyearr ago. Not mjy, errr - arr'surra'ou - bjiologjical, jyou'd ssajy?"

She blinked, shaking her head slightly.

"Ssorrrjy, Cizeri ssometjimess have sseverral fatherrss. Hjiss name wass Taurrifar. He wass a grreat dad. Alwajyss had tjime forr uss. And therre wass a tjime wherre jI made a rrealljy tough chojice jin mjy ljife, and jI had to go jit alone, and mjy motherr and jI werren't on sspeakjing terrmss. jI felt sso loneljy but jI knew jI'd hate mjysself jif jI went back on what jI decjided. Taurrifar neverr pusshed me awajy. Never made me feel wrrong about what jI ssajid, what jI djid, all of jit. jI could alwajyss call hjim."

T'yeellaa closed her eyes. She nodded her head in silence for a moment.

"jI mjisss hjim. jI haven't sstopped mjisssjing hjim."

She rose her head and opened her eyes, now feeling like she could actually look at Quarles on his level.

"Can jyou prromjisse me ssomethjing?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

What she spoke of was a feeling that had become terribly familiar to him in the last month, and Quarles nodded gravely as she spoke. It would be silly to offer anything other than his understanding, since it needed no saying. They shared a heartbreaking experience, and the comfort each could offer was enough.

It was when she had finished that he finally met her eyes; he wasn't one for crying, though he'd certainly done his fair share. And now, after having shed his tears, there was a quiet acceptance that would stay with him for the rest of his life. The question she now posed was one that he didn't even consider. Her hospitality, her understanding, her efforts to make a breakfast that he so badly ruined with terrible news... it was the least that he could do for her.

He gave her a solemn nod.

"Anything."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Don't leave thjiss sstatjion untjil jyou've rreconcjiled wjith Ssamuss."

T'yeellaa squeezed his hand to accentuate her request, and also to dissuade any involuntary urge from Quarles to recoil or object. He might have a reason. He might have a lot of reasons. But this mattered more.

"He'ss out therre ssomewherre, devasstated. And he doessn't ljike anjyone to ssee hjim bleed. jI'm sstarrtjing to underrsstand wherre he getss that frrom. jI can fjind hjim, and jI can be the sshoulderr he crrjiess on. But he doessn't know jit jyet, how much he'ss gojing to need jyou."

She shook her head.

"Therre'ss no wajy jyou can know jit untjil jyou do. And jI won't let jyou ssljip awajy frrom each otherr. He'ss mjy gai'tou. jI won't let hjim have to feel a hurrt ljike that."

[Quarles P. Dage]

It was a tall order, but one that he already knew he was willing to undertake. He'd come to Jovan to hopefully do that, and when Quentin had walked out, he'd faltered. His resolve hit a snag. All of a sudden it had seemed like a task too far, and that he'd be unable to reconnect. But, T'yeellaa's words and insistence bolstered him, and he knew that she was right. She had a wisdom to her that seemed far more commonplace for one twice her age, and he found himself staring as if for the first time at her. She emboldened him, and he felt a surge of bravery in that moment.

"You're right," his voice was low, as if finding itself after some long journey of silence.

His free hand came around then, to rest atop hers as he stood up. His grip remained though, and he pulled her with him, using the momentum to draw her into a gentle, yet firm embrace. He wanted to immediately rush out after his son, but he couldn't abandon T'yeellaa without an almost crushing hug that conveyed how he felt.

"Quentin is beyond lucky to have you," he whispered.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

Quarles was far from heartless, and what little she'd seen of him in the past day at least made her feel like this had a chance, and that he wasn't simply doing the decent thing. T'yeellaa reciprocated, wrapping her arms under his, resting her chin against his shoulder.

"jI know," she admitted with a smile. She wasn't sure why she'd answered that way, instead of something more modest. But it felt right. It felt good.

"jI'll go fjind hjim."

[Q. Samus Dage]

* * *


When your world falls out from beneath your feet, a body tends to retreat to the familiar. It seeks out comfort in the trappings of every day life, and the sameness that it had become used to. So it was with Samus Dage.

He'd silently bulled his way back to Spire Four, where Khera'Va'ss'io was berthed. He'd retraced his earlier steps with a strange pace that was both plodding and intent. A split sort of gait that outwardly showed those around him his state of mind. The station staff posted to Spire Four merely waved him through, their own idle thoughts on as little as possible. A returning crew member wasn't anything to be too curious over.

He numbly made his way back through the umbilical, and through the secondary airlock, passing by a smattering of other crewers who were intent on spending time on Jovan proper.

A hand registered, the feel of it at his collarbone, and Samus focused his eyes finally, in what seemed like forever, on the person stopping his forward momentum.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Her hand stopped him from moving further in. She'd spied him returning, and with her own datapads tucked beneath one arm, the Lupine slowed her own pace as she'd debarked. There was a roiling thundercloud that trailed after him, and she immediately felt the undercurrents of something terrible coming from her old friend.

It was what made her reach up, laying a hand to him.

"Samus."

[Q. Samus Dage]

The familiar voice only caused his features to crease further, and he refused to meet her eyes.

"A little busy, Captain."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

What was there to say to that? She would never invade his thoughts without permission, but it was unmistakable, the ill winds he carried with him.

She stared at him in silence, very aware of his gaze that doggedly never met her own.

Slowly, her hand came away, and she squared her shoulders. She knew better than to pry, and she also knew that whatever had happened he would speak of in his own time.

"Carry on, then."

[Q. Samus Dage]

He only nodded without a word, starting forward once more. Slowly at first, but it wasn't long before his long-legged stride had propelled him back onto the ship that he normally called home.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

There were parallels between searching for a man and hunting prey. There had been plenty of songs and films and everything else about just that comparison, to the point that it was beyond cliché and done to death. But the repetition was for a reason, because the similarities weren't random. Lust, sustenance, love, fulfillment, and the stuff of life. There were reasons these themes were common, and T'yeellaa couldn't help but think of the dozens of Tarriwood holos she'd seen about determined women and chased-but-vulnerable men. But she couldn't let the drum-beat of their familiarity fill her head. It might cheapen their moment, and honestly? Real life was a better story than fiction always.

She'd left the residential zone fairly confidently, and spent a moment in the tide of sentience that was the concourse. Where would Gai'tou go? For a drink? Into a gambling hall? Into Madam Maillanaarro's parlor? She winded those scents and turned away. She knew her man. Knew him in that kind of way that danced around the need for thinking. There was a kernel of Samus Dage that was central to everything, wild and unbroken. It was that part of him that she couldn't or wouldn't assail fully, and she respected it because it reflected a part of herself. And she didn't need a lot of time to mill about before she had a damned-good idea where he'd gone.



* * *

"Perrmjisssjion to come aboarrd, Rrou'a?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She was quietly speaking to one of her underlings at the outer edge of the umbilical, one of Jovan's customs officers standing close enough to be a part of the conversation as well. When a familiar scent feathered its' way to the outer edges of her olfactory senses,s'Il looked up, her conversation put on immediate hold as T'yeellaa approached, her voice cutting through with a strange mix of concern and formality winding around one another in her tone.

The Lupine blinked, and her features pressed into an expression of concern ass he dismissed both of the officers that she'd been speaking with.

"K'ohta'rrou... "

There was an urgency that she detected, and she knew in that instant that something was profoundly wrong. But, she did not press, and after a moment of silence between the two women, she half-stepped to the side, giving her explicit permission for the other woman to continue through the umbilical.

"By all means."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

It was in that moment that T'y was acutely aware of her state of undress. Well, relatively. Even a Cizerack in ill-creased and buttoned crimsons looked three times as dapper as the Alliance at their best, she reasoned. Still, it was a deficiency that she herself marked and internally chastised. But even in the face of that, the act of neglecting to tie her cravat or fully button her double-breasted jacket was small and insignificant.

And it was an act of grace that Captain s'Ilancy didn't bring it to mention. T'yeellaa dipped her head.

"Thank jyou."

Entering the ship, T'yeellaa immediately acclimated herself to the tight quarters, mindful to press flush to her lane whenever there was oncoming pedestrian traffic. She paused in the crew quarters, considering for a moment that Samus might be holed up on his room. But that didn't clock with Samus. No, he wouldn't be there. Instead, she headed to the command deck, picking up her pace as she went.

[Q. Samus Dage]

Rahgus had left, leaving the bridge in the sole care of KHER. The ship's avatar was like a silent caretaker as he we about finishing his system's checks. The black-eyed droid looked up when he'd stepped through the door, and at a grunt from the rangy blonde, returned to his duties.

For his part, Samus moved to the pilot's nest. He stared up at the view of the stars, Jovan a stationary vision to the side. But, it was the glittering jewels that were held aloft in the black velvet of space that held his attention. And then he looked down, to the deck. Leaning against the smooth formed durrasteel of the nest, the blonde slowly let his body slide down until he was sitting, his arms propped up on his knees and his head drooped low, his chin resting on his chest.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

The doors to the bridge parted again, minutes later. T'yeellaa smoothed a strand of hair that hadn't made it into her ponytail in the first pass behind her ear. At that moment, she realized she'd also left behind her white gloves. No matter. This wasn't a duty situation.

She met the insectoid eyes of the ship's droid avatar, KHER. T'yeellaa didn't care for the automaton, but she'd surmised from the last time that if she left it alone, it would likewise leave her the same. So she turned her eyes elsewhere. The only other inhabitant of the bridge didn't take long to find. Indeed, she'd felt comforted the moment she'd arrived on the bridge, noting his smell in the air. But that comfort was tempered with wariness and care. She didn't need to see him to know he was hurting, but the sight of him now was almost too much. Quentin Samus Dage didn't show his hurt, but what she saw was more of it than she'd ever gotten to glimpse.

T'yeellaa didn't say anything. She didn't encroach upon him in the pilot's nest, but rather moved forward to the wide viewport. Taking a moment to deliberately orient herself, the former galleon Captain made quick work of visually identifying the stars in front of them that she could see. Given how close they were to the home cluster, the task wasn't a difficult one.

"We'rre all taught jin the Navjy to be able to vjissualljy charrt famjilljiarr sstarr ssjysstemss and consstellatjionss. The jidea went that jif ourr navjicomputerrss ssufferred damage, we could alwajyss plot a rrudjimentarrjy courrsse bjy vjissual rreferrence. jIt majy not get jyou wherre jyou needed to go, but jit would get jyou closse enough to hopefulljy matterr."

Maybe he was listening to her. Maybe he was swirled in his grief. She wasn't going to intrude on him further than making idle conversation until he wanted more.

"jI neverr ussed vjissual rreferrence to navjigate, thank Goddesss," T'yeellaa smiled unseen with her back turned to him, "but jI alwajyss rrememberred how to do jit, forr thosse njightss when jI felt ljike jI couldn't do anjythjing elsse but mjisss bejing home."

[Q. Samus Dage]

Her voice had slipped into his awareness, and Samus found himself not exactly surprised. He was at least glad that it was her and not Lok; or gods-forbid his old man.

She talked about the stars, and navigating, and missing home. He knew that she was trying to help, but he dared not look up. He was comfortable wallowing right now, and if he had looked up it would only make everything more difficult. He'd have to face the reality of it all.

She finished speaking, and he said nothing in response. Rather, the silence that followed was comforting.

A good few minutes passed before his voice rumbled up through his chest.

"I always missed home," he croaked out, "... After every offensive, every night I spent in an anoobahole, whenever we made planetfall in some flying bucket that was thirty years past its' prime, during those times that me and Kori had overnight guard duty... I always missed it. I always missed her."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She pivoted on a boot heel, and carefully leaned back to rest against the transparisteel. The stars could wait for her. Samus needed her. She'd never seen him like this. Felled to the floor, eyes low. He spoke with a gravel-heavy voice that rebelled against the act of forming words. It pained her to see it, but she recognized a piece of herself in Samus in this moment, and she hoped that she could use that common feeling to reach him.

T'yeellaa pressed the palms of her hands against the glass. It was pleasingly cold, and that coldness sobered her own emotions, keeping her on task.

"Tell me about herr," T'yeellaa urged, her ears pivoting up and forward. It wasn't just the telling for his benefit. This was a whole part of his life that he'd carefully kept under seal and away from their time together. It was important to him, and that meant it was important to her in turn.

"jI want to know everrjythjing, orr at leasst what jyou thjink jyou can talk to me about. jI'll alwajyss ljissten."

[Q. Samus Dage]

She kept a distance that he appreciated, but at the same time it was a distance that he desperately wished to be shortened. But, he digested her words and the request she'd made with a stoic silence that spoke volumes to the memories he was reliving all at once.

"She... "

How did one even begin to quantify a mother?

"... she was always there when you needed her. Whether it was to make breakfast, bandage your scrapes, or just sit with you and tell you stories about the stars."

He could still remember so long ago, when he was sitting outside in the tall razorgrass after a stern talking to from his father about some sort of misbehavior... she had sat next to him and wrapped an arm across his shoulders in comfort, telling him that everything would be okay.

"She never told stories like my Da... she was more the type to comfort you when you needed it, and her laugh was the most amazing thing to listen to."

Finally he looked up, but his eyes stared ahead, not to T'yeellaa.

"I always told myself I would go back home soon. Always told myself I wouldn't wait forever."

Again his features screwed tight, eyes clenching shut as his head bowed once more.

"Guess that doesn't matter now."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Gai'tou, that'ss not fajirr."

She pushed off the glass, approaching the pilot's nest. If her approach was too forward, he'd let her know. But she wanted to be close to him, and she needed to feel his emotions in a tactile manner.

"Nobodjy knowss when jit'ss thejirr tjime, orr when jitss ssomeone elsse'ss tjime forr that matterr. jYou can't look back and get sstuck on what jif. Therre arre too manjy of thosse. What jif thjiss, what jif that?"

Carefully, she entered the pilots nest, finding a spot of floor next to Samus without being presumptuous enough to touch him yet.

"jYou love jyourr motherr. jIt ssoundss ljike sshe loved jyou too. Tell me a sstorrjy."

Her head inclined against the console as she rolled her shoulders.

"No platjitudess. Don't wrrjite an objituarrjy. Tell me ssomethjing jyou rrememberr vjivjidljy. jI neverr got to meet herr, and jI want to."

[Q. Samus Dage]

He thought on that request, quiet as his memories flashed by at a breakneck speed that seemed to also move slower than a mountain trying to shift about. Time stood still and flashed by all at once, and finally he let out a long, pent-up breath.

"There was one time," he started slowly, "... I was probably only ten. My brother and I had been out helping Da put together a fence, and I managed to send a tack-nail through my hand; well, not through it technically, but pretty much up to the head, with the tip poking out through my palm. It hurt like the dickens, and I screamed bloody murder. Micah started screaming too, but Da just stared down at me, grabbed my wrist to have a look, then grumbled about how it didn't look that bad and that if I was gonna stand there crying I should just head back to the house and have Mother pull it out."

Slowly, he held up his hand to stare at his left palm, then slowly extended it so that T'y could see the scar that still remained to this day; a puckering of skin on each side.

"I walked in the kitchen door wailing, and she just took me up and told me it would be ok, and that I wouldn't have to have it cut off or anything else that my little brain thought would happen."

A sigh.

"And she was right, and she wrapped my hand up in a warm towel, gave me a glass of fizzypop with a medicine pill, then opened up her medicine drawer. She always had a special drawer in the kitchen that she kept stitching needles, wraps, disinfectant wipes, and packets of bacta cream in. She said it was her little medward. She knew how to use all that stuff too; she used to be a volunteer nurse, and always worked the brandings in case someone got burned by the irons or their fingers broken are anything else that tended to happen. It was how she met my Da, at one of those things.

"But anyway, she got me to stop crying, and was telling me about all the stuff I'd still be able to do after I healed up, all while spreading bacta cream around where the nail was. I didn't even feel it when she pulled it out, or when she was stitching me up. She just did it, and never stopped talking the whole time."

He made a face, then.

"Da had a look at it a few days later, and just said that I wasn't allowed to use the nail puncher anymore."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

It was a vivid telling, and T'yeellaa could easily feel the presence of Samus' mother in his words. The pucker scar in his hand hadn't escaped her attention before. She had a topographical awareness of every feature in the way that intimacy demanded. But he was a man with no shortage of scars, and always a story behind them. Now, it was one more solved mystery. And with it came a realization and a sadness. What comfort did Samus have when he left home behind for the rebellion. Who salved his wounds, the ones you could see and the ones you couldn't? She cradled his hand in hers, only now feeling like she could.

"Ssamuss, jif jyou could ssee herr agajin, what would jyou tell herr?"

[Q. Samus Dage]

"That I love her."

The words were out without thought, and he brought in a slow breath before letting it back out again with as just a plodding pace.

"Wasn't kidding when I said me and my Da had angry words when I left. We were yelling at each other, and Mother just sat at the table in the kitchen crying. She left for her bedroom after I laid a right hook on my old man, and that was the last I saw of her. Never got to say goodbye or anything."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She couldn't tell him to shrug it off, or to stop blaming himself, not with any honesty. This all felt familiar by degrees.

"jI don't rrememberr the lasst thjing Papa Taurrifar ssajid to me, but jI rrememberr the lasst thjing unssajid."

She had to unpack her own hidden scars for him. This wasn't his burden to bear alone.

"jI wassn't dojing anjythjing jimporrtant. jI thjink jI wass lookjing overr a dutjy rrossterr, but jit wassn't ljife orr death. jI got a comm frrom home, and jit wass Papa'ss frrequencjy. jI don't know whjy, but jI put hjim off. jI let jit go to majil. He djidn't leave a messsage, sso jit couldn't have been that jimporrtant."

T'yeellaa caressed Dage's hand.

"That would've been the lasst tjime we talked togetherr, jif onljy jI pjicked up the comm. The next call jI got frrom home wass a week laterr, and - and - jit wass motherr. Sshe told me papa wass dead."

The K'ohta'rrou's posture stiffened, and she seemed to bear the weight with a similar stoicism to Samus'.

"jIf jyou let jyourrsself ljingerr on what mjight have been, jit wjill onljy hurrt jyou."

[Q. Samus Dage]

Her telling hit closer to home than he anticipated, and Samus continued to star down at the deckplates between his legs. His hand was relaxed in her grip for a few moments longer before his fingers curled inward to grasp her own. She had become a lifeline now, in this time and place, and the blonde again thanked his lucky stars that she'd been the one to find him.

"I know I can't linger," he finally started in a low, rumbling voice that seemed somehow... small.

"And I'll get better, it's just... just right now... "

There was no way for him to articulate the pain, and so Samus simply let himself lean into her, his head angling to the side so that his forehead rested against her shoulder.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Ssamuss, jyou'rre not gojing to get betterr. Thjiss doessn't worrk that wajy."

She supported his weight as he leaned in, and rested a hand lightly at the back of his hair.

"jIt wjill alwajyss sstajy wjith jyou. jYou'll be able to carrrjy jit mosst dajyss. Everrjy now and agajin, jyou won't. And that'ss okajy. jYou have to let jyourrsself know jitss okajy. jIf that meanss crrjyjing, then crrjy jit out. But jyou have to take what jyou werre gjiven of herr and keep jit closse. jI know jyou. jI know how harrd jit jiss forr jyou to hearr that jyou can't jusst rrub ssome djirrt on jit and pack jit awajy. Beljieve me, jI've trrjied that. jYou don't want to."

[Q. Samus Dage]

He didn't have the energy to argue, or really even continue the line of discussion, and so Samus simply didn't answer. He was quiet as he sat, leaning into her. Right now it was what he needed, and whatever came after today he'd deal with it then.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"jYou'rre not alone, Gai'tou," T'yeellaa whispered as he remained close, "No one sshould everr face thjiss alone. And jI'm not jusst talkjing about me."

She pried him away from her shoulder just enough to make eye contact.

"Whateverr'ss between jyou and jyourr fatherr, jyou need to fjind a wajy to mend jit."

[Q. Samus Dage]

He stared into her eyes, those depthless blues that he always seemed to get lost in.

A deep breath, and with a small groan, the blonde slowly extricated himself from her hold so that he could slowly rise to his feet.

She was right, of course. With Mother gone, there was only one parent left, and it was best for both father and son to rebuild those old fences.

"Got any pointers?"

It was a question meant to try and lighten the mood in some fashion, as he reached a hand out for her to take so that she too could stand.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She laughed, accepting Dage's hand to stand as she thought about her own mixed success at bridging the gap.

"Nothjing that would sspecjifjicalljy worrk jin jyourr casse. Mjy motherr jiss the exceptjion to exceptjionss."

T'yeellaa hung onto her words, chewing lightly on her lip before continuing.

"But jI thjink that at the hearrt of a famjiljy djissagrreement, everrjyone hass to underrsstand that famjiljy jiss a thjing larrgerr than anjy one perrsson. Ego and prrjide can put bljinderrss on, but jif thejy carre about that, thejy can eventualljy ssee what matterrss."

Still holding Dage's hand, she gave it a squeeze before leading him along by it.

"Come on, Gai'tou. Tjime to put that to the tesst."

[Q. Samus Dage]

He let her lead him on, though there was a strange resistance to what she had said.

"Family is important," they passed through the doorway leading out into the corridor from the bridge, "... but a person isn't defined by their family."

Angling forward, he maintained his grip on her hand while lifting the other up to muss her hair and pull her close in the same motion.

"Otherwise I'd see you as nothing but a flesh-seeking shark, looking for young prey to feast upon like a certain matron who had no qualms about stuffing her comm slip into my pants."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Who'ss to ssajy jI'm not?"

T'yeellaa kept her hand over his, looping her tail around the small of his back as he drew her in. She drew up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

"jI'm jusst betterr at jit."

She parted, but not before nipping lightly at his earlobe, discreet enough to pass beneath any watching eyes.

"Now sstop drraggjing jyourr heelss orr jI'll assk jyourr fatherr jif he can sshow me how to usse a sshaak whjip."