He had never thought it would actually happen, they'd always had some furious fights and separately they would cool down and everything would work out some how. She wasn't supposed to actually leave, it wasn't how this worked. They were supposed to fight and pick and tease each other, she wasn't supposed to pack up and leave them behind.

It was late in the night and here he stood in her empty shuttle, a shuttle now devoid of all color and warmth. Cold and barren, just how she probably thought his heart was. In many ways, on that count she was probably right. He knew he had hurt her, but he had expected her to come back fighting as she had always done, not turn around and walk away.

There last conversation had been about family how when you make a family you are willing to do anything for them, were they not her family, were they not all a family. Evidently they were not, or she would not have been able to walk away. Hell he knew it hadn't been easy for her to walk away, just how it hadn't been easy for him to watch her go.

They all missed her, and they all blamed him, which they had every right in the verse to do. He had pushed her and prodded her until she felt as if she didn't belong here and if she didn't belong here, then maybe none of them did.

Even without all her finery, it still smelled of her incense and the scent alone made a million different memories flash through his mind like a capture, mostly of him barging in on her and making her feel uncomfortable in her own home.

The memory of the tears in her beautiful, haunting dark eyes that last time fueled a rage in him that he hadn't felt the pull of in a mighty long time. With a force he didn't know he had he punched the wall of the shuttle, breaking more than one knuckle on his right hand and leaving a splash of blood behind. That's all his life was about blood, fighting, war, death and destruction. He had nothing to give to her, had nothing to give to no one.

He didn't know what love was. Duty, honor, integrity, courage an