Sev rubbed his eyes.

Stopped and rubbed them again.

He was tired.

Probably more tired than he’d ever been in his life. And that was saying something. He’d fallen asleep standing up on more than one occasion but that was different. That was his body needing rest and his mind needing to reboot. This, what he felt now, was beyond tired. It was a weariness in his soul, an emotional sort of exhaustion that he’d never experienced before.

Sev had never been one to stop and question himself or his motives. He had an objective, he completed it and then when he was sure it was done, he turned himself off.

He couldn't turn this off, the destruction of the Republic, the object of the loyalty that had been bred and beaten into him until he knew nothing else. The loss of his brothers, not knowing if they were dead, if they were part of this new regime by choice or by force. Not knowing if they had left him of their own accord or because they’d not been given the choice.

Losing you was something he’d thought he understood. It wasn’t going to be forever, how could it be? WIth him being who and what he was.

But in the end it hurt more than he thought it would. He’d never been very good at understanding emotions and what to do with them. They caught him by surprise and made his head spin and feel fuzzy or spiked his adrenaline until all he could focus on was his fists and his weapon in his hand.

Finding the rebels had been a blessing, or rather, them finding him.

He could focus on something tangible and their intel was at least as good as the Republic's had been. They had spies everywhere, he was certain he would learn about his brothers eventually. If there was anything left of them. But he purposely avoided trying to find news of you. That was too much to hope for.

He preferred to imagine that you were still in your apartment on Coruscant, that you went to work and came home and made yourself dinner. That you watched the holo and went out with your friends and continued your hobbies. That you lived as comfortably as you could. He couldn't bare to think of anything else.

He looked up.

You were still right there, right where he’d first seen you, surrounded by rebels wearing the same informal uniform of comfortable but practical attire, a hodgepodge of beings from around the universe with a wide array of skills and training and one common goal. Not at all the army he was used to.

You couldn't be here. You weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to be home, safe and happy and living.

But you were. You were here.

Sev knew that his mind couldn't make up the sound of your voice when he’d heard you speak to Steela or the familiar scent of you when you stepped closer to him, or the feel of your touch on his face.

He knew because he tried so many times to recreate these things but he could never manage it. Which meant this had to be real.

His instinct was to tell you to leave, to go back and go home. To forget about the rebellion.

But he was weak, he’d been more worn down by loss then he ever had been before and he couldn't bear it again.

Instead, for once in his life, he let himself be weak and he let himself kiss you.

Or maybe you kissed him first, it was hard to tell in the moment, both of you moving so quickly and with the same purpose. His hands were on you, hard enough to bruise and your fingers tangle in his hair. Your body leaned into him, forcing him to step backwards and press into the side of the ship that had just landed in the hanger.

Maybe people were watching or maybe they discreetly turned away and went about their business. He didn’t know and he didn’t care.

The only thing he cared about was the weight of you pressing into him and his hands trying to tug you closer by the hip.

Your mouth was warm and soft and inviting against his own. Something wet touched his cheek and in the back of his mind he understood it was a tear but the meaning didn’t sink in.

You were here and he had you again. Finally, something worth fighting for.