The greatest enemy is the one you know best.

[John Glayde]

Though his body remained steadfast and firm, internally Glayde felt as if he'd just been slammed into by a tsunami. It wasn't the emotion that Tur'enne displayed, nor the venom in her words that impacted him so. It was the information. Granted, it was scarce on details: someone, somewhere, had done a damn good job of keeping the specifics of what had transpired on Corellia a very classified secret. Some knew - Dalgas, perhaps; that'd certainly explain his mysteriously convenient passing on of that casualty report - but Glayde certainly didn't: it was all way above his paygrade.

From what hadn't been hidden away under security lock and encryption key, he knew that Tur'enne had been the last survivor of her Corellian Squad, and that she'd been adopted by the Company that rescued her. It sounded simple enough, and Glayde had merely assumed that with her Squad gone she'd simply latched onto the Rebel Company, filling the void of the comrades she'd lost. It had been the same with him, back when an Intelligence screw-up had landed his Jump Trooper Squad inside a hotzone. Only three of them had survived that mission, though one was too badly injured to remain in service; they'd been the closest thing he'd had to family, after he'd lost his sister and become estranged from his parents, and loosing them all had left him crushed. When the Storm Commandos had come along and offered him a new life to replace the one that was lost, he'd grabbed it with both arms and clung on for dear life.

He'd assumed that the loss Tur'enne felt was analogous, but now he could clearly see that it was not. He couldn't be sure what the Rebels had saved her from; he'd probably never know. But the trauma; the nightmares; the Rebels had trancended even the bond of brotherhood between comrades in arms. That's what I tore her away from, he realised, still reeling at the pain and anger in her voice directed at the one responsible for her reassignment; after the mission to Baraboo, and reading the reports of her work on Bothawui, he'd have gone to Hapes and back to ensure that Tur'enne and O'Hurn wound up on his team. The heavy weight of guilt twisted his organs and plumetted to the base of his stomach; hard as it had been to watch her cry, understanding his own blame made it that much harder.

Rising from his seat, reluctant and unsure, he stepped warily around his desk to stand face-to-face with the Lieutenant. A trembling hand was clenched into a fist to tame it, before being slowly relaxed and raised - cautiously; he was somewhat wary of the limb being ripped off and used to beat him into unconsciousness - and rested upon Charlotte's shoulder. He met her gaze and held it as best he could; when she glanced away he offered a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder with his hand. His voice turned soft, any pretense of professionalism long since abandoned. "We have something in common, you and I: back on Corellia, someone saved our lives. "For you, it was Colonel Rask; Captain Mardesh; Lieutenant Janek. For me, it was Lieutenant Charlotte Tur'enne."

He let the sentiment hang, looking deep into her eyes, his own burning with determination, softened by sympathy, empathy, and honesty. "Back in that Frohad compound, you got me out of there; got me to safety. Every time we head out on a mission we entrust our lives to each other's care, and while I would lay my life down for any one of you without a moment's hesitation -" His words tumbled to a halt, a wince flashing across his features at the inadequate phrasing of his sentiment. More slowly, he made a second attempt, a momentary glance away to mask his embarassment the only break in the eye contact he fought to maintain. "Of all of the members of my team, Tur'enne, I know that my life is safe in your hands. Of all the people on this base - hell, probably in all the Alliance - I can think of no one I'd rather trust to fight at my side."

Finally, he let their locked eyes break apart, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous and embarassed about the distinctly unorthadox flurry of sentiments he'd just displayed; hardly a text-book display of the kind of leadership approach the Alliance looked for. Overcome with the urge to deflect attention away from himself and his words, he retreated a few paces and perched on the corner of his desk, from somewhere managing to muster a smile. "As for Captain Tallen," the offered, grasping at something else from the swarm of questions she'd released, "We have a, uh, history, as I'm sure you're aware. You've met the woman, and I'm sure you'll agree that if there's one thing this unit needs right now, it's someone who isn't afraid to butt heads with the Captain: keep her in check. She won't listen to me, but boy does she listen to you. Hangs and seethes on every word."

His voice trailed off, and he let some of the token attempt at humour tumble away from his voice. "I need you on this team, Tur'enne," he said, voice thick with naught but honesty.

He paused a beat. "I want you to stay."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

For the first time in a long time, she had been struck downright speechless. Her rant had left her feeling utterly drained, exhausted from letting out some information while withholding some she dared not tread upon. Glayde, it seemed, had caught on to everything she had said and had even gone as far to understand there was more unspoken that, if Charles had her way, would never be spoken.

Every word he had spoken had more impact than any fist ever could have. There was so much to address, so much to respond to. The main was the absolute trust he apparently had in her and more to the point, was the fact that Charles knew it hadn't been misplaced. For every argument she had with the Major, for every disagreement, for every ounce of hatred... he was her CO, he was the man whose orders would determine their victory or failure, more importantly he was the one whose every decision dictated whether she lived or died. Despite her continual butting of heads with those of higher rank, Charlotte had decided early on that while she may not agree with the Major on all occasions, she did respect him. Which was far more than she could say for a lot of other officers. He pushed her buttons, got under her skin, but he did so in the same way the Lt. Colonel had... for her own damn good.

Saving the Major on Corellia hadn't even been a question in her mind. She didn't leave anyone behind, just as she hadn't been. Charles never expected to even remotely have the incident brought back to her attention. It hadn't even been worth mentioning in her opinion and no where in her thoughts did she expect it to have any sort of impact on Glayde.

The last comment about the Captain was just about the only thing that brought her out of her shocked silence, and as quickly as she almost found her wording it was lost again with his last declaration.

Charlotte's eyes slid to the datapad she had set down earlier and slowly she sat forward, reached around Glayde and put her fingertips on top of the datapad before sliding it back towards herself. The moment it left the table she took a deep breath.

"I never want to take an order from her. Ever." Her eyes met his as the datapad was tucked back into her pocket. Charles knew she wasn't in a position to make demands, but it came out anyway.

"Guarantee me that, and I can overlook the fact you seem to think my ability to get the team in and out of a building unnoticed is my strong point." It may have been that she was out of her mind at that point... but she actually managed a wink.

[John Glayde]

"That someone as eye-catching as you can go unnoticed," he countered, a slight lopsided grin flashing back at her in reply, "Only goes to show how good an infiltrator you are."

Dancing straight to the more gravitous issues that the Lieutenant had raised, Glayde dragged along with him as much of that small sliver of positive that they'd managed to stumble upon. "I can't promise that you'll never have to take an order from her, but I give you my word that I will do everything I can to limit your exposure to a bear minimum." He paused briefly, before correcting himself. "Or cat minimum, I guess."

The dark weight that Tur'enne strained beneath was far from gone, but the glimmer of optimism that Glayde had witnessed filled him with hope. He knew that far from repairing anything, he'd merely slapped on a field bandage to slow the bleeding; but with time, and a judicial application of called-in favours, there was a chance he could help her come to terms.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

It wasn't quite what she wanted to hear, but all things considered it realistically was the best he could offer. The fact he was quickly switching gears to carry some of the usual jesting banter that was becoming routine for her and the other members of Dorn allowed her to relax enough to build back up whatever guard it was she had let drop only moments before. It wasn't quite the usual impervious wall (that would take some time and probably several glasses of whiskey before her confidence could solidify that back in place) but it was enough to bring a halt to the downward spiral she'd been in. Now all that was left to do was wander around the destruction and look for larger pieces of her own sense of self to start re-laying the foundation with.

She had managed a small one time laugh in response. It was about as much of an agreement he would get from her at that particular moment as she looked away from him again. Her left hand rose up, elbow propping on the arm of the chair and the back of a few of her fingers was pressed lightly against her lips.

"You're aware I'll remind you of this conversation next time we get in an argument and you start threatening to court-martial me, right?" Her eyes flicked back to him, somewhat hoping he wouldn't bother to answer her. Another small "heh" left as she let her gaze wander away once more.

Her hand dropped away from her mouth as Charles fought back some childish habit she'd broken ages ago when it came to biting fingernails. "You know they sent me the report without so much of an offer of a few days leave? Someone's got a sick sense of humor." Another forced smile and another dry comment. "Worse than yours."

Then again maybe they thought they were doing me a kindness and forgot to read up on the loose cannon they opted to light the fuse of. Heh... loose cannon. Wasn't it that stuck up General that called me that the first time? Pretty sure he was mighty pissed off when he found out what I was being trained for too... aw well, Rask had my back then...

Slowly her eyes trained on the Major once more. Guess he's got it now, though...

"So... you wanna go back to telling me what a frak-up I am and forget this whole thing ever happened? Though before we go there, I just want to say..." Her eyes fell again. "I'm... I'm honored in the trust you place in me, Sir. I'll try and not let you down... you know, too often."

[John Glayde]

Glayde leant forward, offering a reassuring hand to Tur'enne's upper arm. "If you wind up letting me down," he said gently, "Odds are that neither one of us will be around for me to yell at you, so I wouldn't worry about it too much."

He gave her one last, reassuring smile, before ratcheting his professional retraint back up to full again.

"So," he said eventually, turning his eyes groundwards with a frown, reaching behind him for one of the datapads on his desk. "Back to being a frak-up." Thumbing the screen into life, he twisted the device so that Charlotte could read the information emblazoned upon it. "Care to explain to me why your brother is lying in the med bay with a broken nose?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Whatever magic Glayde had done with their talk, it worked. Only moments ago the mentioning of what happened in the gym would bring about a strange combination of guilt and that bubbling up of rage that had managed to work its way out... and then be taken out on her brother. As it was she only felt a slight twinge of remorse for putting Xander in the med bay. Only slightly.

I haven't seen him for 6 years, you figure it out. You want a reasoning other than he's my brother? He did sorta ask for it. It was a late Life Day gift, you know, inside joke. Well you basically answered our question by asking it... frak-up, silly!

"Stupid argument... well, partial argument. At least I didn't hit the Captain, right?" Not that I wouldn't have... even with her freak out into monsterville.

She scanned the datapad shortly and looked back to the Major. "It could have been worse." Her shoulders shrugged slightly as she looked away yet again. "It... might get worse. Somehow you managed to find the one person in the galaxy that apparently has worst self control than I do, you know?"

[John Glayde]

Glayde nodded, appreciative of her honesty. "You let me worry about Captain Tallen," he assured, and meant it. He may not have any idea of how just yet, but he would somehow find a way. He wasn't even sure he could do it alone; but if he had to, if that's what it took to ensure the wellfare of his people, the integrity of his team, and the wellbeing of Charlotte, his - what now, friend? - then somehow he'd find a way.

A frown ghosted briefly across his face; he ran contempative fingers across his jaw, kneeding briefly at his lips. "Protocol requires that I discipline you in some way," he offered, with a bite of reluctance in his words. Her words floated across his mind. You know they sent me the report without so much of an offer of a few days leave? His eyes rose. "Consider yourself suspended from active duty for the next ten days, Lieutenant. No missions; no briefings; no training. And if I so much as catch you anywhere remotely related to your job, I will throw you in the brig. Do I make myself clear?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

She smirked, it was forced somewhat, but it did reflect her next words perfectly. "Well...I'd respond with a 'crystal' there but you realize, in all technicalities, this entire ship and probably the whole sector we're in right now is relating to my job?""

A deep breath left her as her eyes rolled slightly and the smirk faded. "Ten days, huh? I guess I can keep myself occupied that long. Maybe hop planetside for a bit. You know, to keep from draining the ship's supply of alcohol."

Charles slowly got to her feet and let out a deep breath. "So I guess that covers all bases." Another sigh left her. Some part of her wanted to thank him, genuinely honestly wanted to but she'd already cried in front of the Major, he'd seen her at just about damn near close to her worst and some part of whatever sense of self preservation was making a comeback prevented her from saying anything.

It didn't stop her from quickly stepping forward and placing a soft kiss on Glayde's cheek though before she spun around and left his office.

[John Glayde]

Glayde remained, rooted in place as she left, eyes lingering on the doorway even after it had closed. Fingers from one hand rose to his feet, gently touching where her lips had briefly been. A phantom memory from Corellia danced through his mind; a recollection of that kiss he'd stolen, and earned her wrath. A sigh escaped from his lungs, body deflating in sync with the leaking air. Bad I idea, John, his better judgement advised.

"Probably right," Glayde muttered back, and with an effort ripped his boots free of the floor, retreating to behind the desk. He'd said that he'd do something about Captain Tallen - about Mara - and he planned to; but this wasn't the kind of thing he felt he could confront her about. He was- he searched for the made-up terminology that psychologists would use. Too close to the issue. Something like this.

No: to solve this problem, he'd need to call in back up. Air support, in fact.

He jammed a finger into the controls on his terminal, spurring built-in the comlink into life. A few quick manipulations of the controls opened a link to the Communications Officer that handled executive transmissions at this time of night. "Walter, it's Major Glayde," he stated, wincing slightly at the thought of what he was about to do. "I need you to get me a holo-comm link to Meeristali Peradun of Rogue Squadron. Priority One."