"I believe we have a long day tomorrow, General."

Phasma's words rang through your head all day. Regretfully, she was right, as she always is.

Ren had a mission the next day, still trying to gain information - and revenge - after the destruction of the Starkiller Base. Phasma went along with him, her troops in tow.

And you? Well, you were stuck behind, pacing the bridge of the Finalizer. While this was a place you were familiar with, it was your first mission to handle since your assumption of the position. To say you were uneasy was a vast understatement.

You were incredibly capable. The Order would have never promoted you otherwise. You really had no worries about the actual mission, besides the usual jitters. As always, lives were on the line. There was ground to be gained and lost. But this was all standard. Things you had grown to expect.

But behind all the bustle of the morning - sending off the troops, everyone getting situated - your mind lagged and everything moved in slow motion. And not in a good way. It was distracting. Things were happening in real time, but you weren't processing them that way.

Before you knew it, boots were on the ground. Radars blipped with red and green dots. Incoming communications signaled locations troops. You stood silently on the bridge, watching over the organized commotion. It all seemed to be under control, Ren and Phasma holding their own.

You held your breath for a moment, trying not to think of Phasma on the battlefield. She was higher ranking, but you knew she'd be out there. That was just her way. You stared out the window, into the black of the open galaxy, held your breath and counted to five. Your exhale was ragged.

She'll be fine. You convinced yourself.

But soon the radar changed. Too many red dots, not enough green ones. Comm channels were overwhelmed. Someone needs help over there. Send a TIE over here.

It was controlled chaos no longer.

Something had to be done.

Slowly, your thoughts caught up with your surroundings. And you remembered you were the one that was supposed to be calling the shots.

"This has Ren written all over it," you mumbled to yourself. You spoke up to the officers, "This is foolish. We've already lost too many men." It was definitely the Knight's plan. Not how you would have preferred it to be done. "Tell them to retreat."

"General?"

"You heard me."

"But, The Commander ..."

"Now!"

You stared at the officer hesitating to initiate the comlink. They hadn't quite learned to take orders from you yet.

The slow motion began again. You felt yourself wanting to reach out to send the message yourself, but your body wasn't responding.

Then a familiar, metallic voice rang over the channel, finally bringing life back up to speed. "We've got what we need. We're pulling back." Phasma.

You sighed in relief, almost too loudly. "Very well." Your teeth drug across your bottom lip, trying not to show any emotion. That's what you were supposed to do, right? Be hardened? Stern?

"Notify me if anything changes."

"Yes, General."

Once you were sure the ships had lifted off, you left.

The blue light of your data pad softly illuminated your quarters. After today's incident - not that it went bad at all - you were determined to be more prepared next time. You easily realized why Hux had always been so pressed for sleep. Not only did you need to be concerned with efficiently commanding, but you had to do so with Ren's interference. You wanted to work with him; you knew how much Ren and Hux hadn't met eye to eye. You wanted this to be different. But it was going to be a long road.

Your eyes were dry from staring at the screen for so long. It must have been hours that you were hunched over your desk in your quarters. You couldn't bring yourself to use your office yet. It didn't seem right.

Sitting up straight, you stretched and yawned, your joints cracking from inactivity. Suddenly, a sound echoed in your stomach; you felt painfully hollow. The clock confirmed it was much too late to get anything from the mess hall, so you climbed in bed.

Just as your eyes closed, the hallway bustled with boots. The mission party had just returned. You'd already decided you would debrief the Commander in the morning. You had enough to discuss with him that doing so half-asleep wasn't an option.

You groaned, placing your pillow over your head. You just wanted an hour of sleep. Maybe two. You wouldn't be picky about it. Just something to take your mind off of this for a moment. A chance to rest.

Your thoughts stopped suddenly. You heard a noise. A knock. Removing the pillow from your head, you sat up quickly, blood rushing from your head. Maybe it was someone else's door down the hall. Or maybe a trooper dropped a blaster. It wouldn't be the first time.

You lay back down.

Knock, knock, knock.

This time it was louder, more prominent, and definitely at your door.

"Son of a...." you whispered to yourself. You slowly approached your door, your socks shuffling across the floor quietly. More loudly you said, "We're debriefing in the morning, Ren. Did you not get my-"

"It's me."

Phasma.

Your hand froze, inches from the door and your heart sank longingly into your gut. The desperation you felt was immense. Had you not had any restraint, you would have slid your door open at hyperspeed. You breathed heavily. You needed to control yourself.

You glanced in your mirror, trying to stall before opening the door. Stars, you couldn't let her see you like this. Disheveled was a good word to describe your current state. Your bun had fallen, but not completely. It hung low by your neck, loose pieces of hair falling into your face. You had undone the buttons of your uniform shirt and were wearing it more as a jacket now, your undershirt grabbing tight to your hot skin. The boots were long gone, kicked under your bed hours ago.

But you needed this, you needed a companion. Maybe more than sleep.

"Y/N?" she called from the hallway.

Your reaction was instant this time, hitting the panel a little too forcefully. There she was, leaning against your doorframe, with her tired eyes and her helmet hair and her plainclothes. But she looked perfect.

Snap out of it.

"Come in."

You sleepily strode over to your bed, allowing Phasma to enter your quarters. You sat on your bed where you were moments ago, patting the empty space next to you motioning for her to have a seat.

"Oh, no. I shouldn't. I won't be long. I just wanted to see how your day went."

Shock. Genuine shock was what you felt. It had been quite a long time since someone in the First Order had truthfully asked about you.

Which is why you lied. "It was fine."

Phasma sighed and tilted her head. Her nose creased as she narrowed her eyes at you. "You're lying."

Of course she could tell. She knew people inside and out. Her job made her this way, training and molding troopers, weeding out the weak links. The littlest emotion or behavior didn't slip past her. It couldn't.

Before you knew it, she was seated next to you. The mattress shifted under her weight, and your knee shifted along with it, bumping into hers. Neither of you moved.

You were close. This was no longer a casual encounter. Now you were truly concerned with your appearance, knowing now she could see every detail of you, every hair out of place, every second you'd spent worrying.

Her eyes bored into yours. But it wasn't intense. Then her eyes shifted. She was examining you visually, as if she was making sure every part of you was accounted for, as if you had been the one off at war, not her.

"You need sleep."

You wanted to be strong, or at least appear to be. "I'll sleep when I'm dead," you half-joked.

"Well, I'd prefer that not happen."

A smile barely tugged at your lips. It was sweet, but you weren't in the mood.

"There's something else," Phasma continued. "Tell me."

Her request, however stern, was oddly comforting.

It was silent for a moment. You could hear her breathing, strong and deep. Your breaths were ragged, painfully shallow. She was the constant, the steadiness you were finally realizing you needed.

"I'm not cut out for this job. I can't be a general."

"Who told you this?"

"I -"

"Was it Ren? I swear to you I will-"

"No," you interrupted, your voice like ice. "No one said anything. Except me."

"Y/N..."

You sighed heavily, trying your best to disguise your hitched breaths. "No. You should have seen me out there. I was a mess. I was so overwhelmed. I - I didn't know what to do. I was worried about you. I was worried about the -"

"You were worried about me?"

Phasma's naïveté was endearing. It was so pure. Sure, she liked you, and could have assumed you returned the sentiment. But to actually hear that her wellbeing was your concern...

Her heart swelled a million times over.

Phasma smiled to herself, just slightly. You truly did a number to her emotions, and she tried not to mind it. It was just so strange to her, to have feelings for someone.

"What can I do?" she asked.

You silently shook your head. You stared down at the floor, keeping your eyes wide so the tears wouldn't fall. There wasn't much she could do. This was your own issue. It would be unfair to Phasma to get her involved.

"I could talk to Ren if you want. Put him in his place if he's your problem. I can get you some help. Some extra training. I'm established. It wouldn't be an issue. Really."

You shook your head again. That wasn't at all what you wanted, or needed.

"Can you just hold my hand?" Your voice was so low, you weren't even sure you'd made a sound.

"What was that?"

You groaned, running your hands across your face. "Stars," you whispered, to no one in particular. Your hands remained on your face, elbows landing on your legs.

You were better than this. At least it's what you told yourself. Within one day, you'd gone from ordering troops, or trying to, to melting into a puddle of emotions. Was it possible to be that duplicitous?

"How can I feel like this?" To Phasma's surprise, the voice was yours, not hers, but it was as if you were reading her mind. "I'm an absolute mess around you."

"Y/N."

Phasma took your hand into hers. Maybe she had heard you. Or maybe she was just being nice.

You kept your head turned away from Phasma. Your face twisted, eyebrows furrowing, trying to fight back the hot sensation beneath your eyes.

"Y/N. Look at me."

Sighing heavily, you bit the inside of your cheek, steeling yourself before you faced her. The blue-gray pools of her eyes engulfed you, deep and caring.

"You are a strong woman. I know that for a fact."

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you knew she could see it when a smile danced across her lips.

"You can do this. We can do this. Together, if you'd like."

"What are you saying?"

Phasma hummed to herself. You'd never truly seen her this flustered before. Her pale skin began to turn rosy, now, along the ridges of her cheeks. Her eyes searched the room for her next words before they finally landed back on yours. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

You inhaled quickly. Your mouth grew dry. The room was silent, except for a ringing in your ears, the white noise suddenly transitioning into the rushing sound of your heartbeat.

The light squeeze of Phasma's hand on yours brought you back into focus.

"Y/N?"

"Yes. Sorry. Yes. Yes, of course!"

Phasma let out a deep sign of relief, her shoulders loosening, and the expression on her face upturning. She may have quite literally been holding her breath.

"Wonderful," she said with a slight smile. The way her lips curled, you could tell she was holding back. "Well, as I said, you need to get some rest. Take care of yourself." Phasma squeezed your hand once more before standing to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow, yes?"

You stood up next to her, trying to meet her, but falling a few inches short. "Of course."

As she turned to walk out, Phasma chuckled. "Ren will have a field day with this."

As she stood outside your door, you pointed as Phasma accusingly, a playful grin giving you away. "I have a meeting with Ren tomorrow morning. After. You can tell him after. I need his full attention."

"Understood."

The two of you smiled at each other sheepishly, eyes meeting, then fluttering away, the motions repeating a few times. This was the inevitable and awkward part you couldn't avoid. The part where you have to say goodbye, but you aren't sure how.

You looked down at your socked feet, giving Phasma an out, a way to just walk away and end the awkwardness. The sound of her boots let you know she took the cue, but suddenly, the steps became louder, faster.

She was coming back.

Just as you were about to look up, Phasma was back at your door, her hand beneath your chin and pulling your face up to meet hers.

Her lips met yours. It was a quick, chaste peck. But you were able to understand more about yourself in that second than you had in the last few days. You felt the want in the way her soft lips pressed against yours. In the way your heart pounded against your ribcage so hard you thought it'd knock you over. There was promise in her kiss.

There would be more.

Pulling away, you chuckled.

"What is it?" Phasma asked. Her cheeks had turned a deep shade of crimson. You could only imagine yours had done the same.

"A captain and a general, huh?" you asked.

Phasma smiled, moving her hand from your chin to push your hair behind your ear. "A captain and a general."