She had to stop and catch her breath. She had been running not knowing where she was going or what she was going to do next. Who could she trust to help her? No one in Wild Sands, that was her target for the past three months. They would be furious with her and probably never accept her again.

“Focus Damnit! Focus Lula!” Where was she to go? She pulled out her comm and softly spoke into it.

“I need some help, can you meet me, or send me a waypoint or something. I am in serious trouble.” A deep but warm voice called back to her stating waypoints and telling her to run straight there. No questions asked, yet. She knew that the onslaught of questions would approach her the minute he got her in a room to himself.

Freezing in nothing but her leotard she ran to keep herself warm as well as to get into shelter and away from feeling so exposed. Through the crowd of people at the front door, she ran past them all and found a room and a dark corner. She started to rock as her knuckles whitened from the grip on the briefcase.

How could she have blown her cover like that? Never in all her training, all the situations she has been in? She could have just killed him. It would have been so easy. One bullet to the brain, and then it would be done. She continued to rock in the corner crying over what she had done. All that training, all those months of work, garbage now.

He slowly walked into the room; his voice though rough had warmth in it when he looked at her. She started to talk but mostly just blubbering and partial words came out. He touched her shoulder and her body temperature rose.

“Tell me what happened and give me your gun.”

She slid the gun to him still shaking, looking at him with her wet face. Her eyes red and bloodshot, she begun to describe the night’s events, coming back to her in flashes like a bad nightmare. He gave her his coat for warmth. The smell of warn leather was his signature smell, how she loved that smell. Intoxicating to her senses.

He took the briefcase and explained the situation to the rest of his colleagues. They were to transport her off the planet, but this was not going to be an easy task. They were risking themselves for what? For the valuable inside the briefcase, profit comes first, always.

An intricate plan to look like vacationing lovers, the moved into town to catch the first shuttle off of the planet. Held up at the starport he hid her in the shadows of the pillars until it was ready to leave. Upon their arrival it was a long journey to the safehouse they had secured for her.

She knew that she was going to have to give him control over the situation until she was in the clear. She had to, just like she did when she came to Headquarters. No questions asked. Do as told. Reply as expected. Flashes came to her about what the group may do to her. Sell her, enslave her, torture her for information, and turn her over to the other side? She had no feeling in her feet by now. Exhaustion was taking over her body as she saw the others run into a house similar to her own in Tattooine. She collapsed on the couch and took a drink from her flask. Her painfully dry throat had been parched for hours. She was lead upstairs by a stern Mon Cal with a warm smile. Locked in a room with no windows, no sunlight…it was like the room she found herself in when she woke from the dark 12 years ago.