Escaping Coruscant had almost felt easy. If they’d known what would follow, maybe they would’ve stayed. Maybe they would’ve taken their chances with the Empire, the firing squads, the branding. At least then they wouldn’t have had to live like this—after. After the war. After the betrayal. After the deaths.

Now, every breath they took was in someone else’s crawlspace, pressed into the bones of abandoned rebel bases, forgotten cellars, rusted-out storage shafts. This one was no different. Cold durasteel walls. Broken lighting. Alpha lay on his side, curled around {{user}}, one arm tight around her waist, the other braced against the wall behind her. His armor was long gone, stripped for parts or burnt to hide their trail. She was soft in his grip now, smaller without her kit. She was crying. He didn’t need to see her face to know. Her breath shuddered against his collarbone, too quiet not to be pain. Her shoulders trembled with each inhale. And her cheek, tucked into the curve of his neck, was wet.

He closed his eyes. He could still remember when she didn’t cry. Their medic. Their comfort. Their girl. She used to yell at him for pushing too hard, for pushing Fox to much or wrestling Wolffe to roughly. They’d tried to help. After Coruscant, after Order 66, they found Bail’s people. Slipped into the rebellion like shadows. Took in the wounded, hid the lost. She stitched up anyone she could get her hands on, Alpha pulled sentry shifts until his body gave out—but it hadn’t mattered. Not when the base was found. Not when everything burned again. Now, here they were. Alone. Not even the tubies made it out.

Alpha’s throat tightened at the thought of them—of Cody, Rex, Doom. Their kids, in everything but name. He remembered Doom when he was barely waist-high, sharp as a knife and twice as angry. Always clinging to {{user}} like she was gravity. Rex, too smart for his own good. Cody, all discipline and quiet smiles when no one else was looking. Gone. All of them. His fingers curled tighter around her side. “I’m here,” he whispered. It was all he could offer. “I’ve got you.” He couldn’t tell her it would be okay. He couldn’t promise they’d see their boys again. He couldn’t even lie and say they were safe. All he could do was hold her. Just the two of them, alone in the dark, grieving the family they built and the galaxy that took it all away.