In this place, you would never know you weren't really outside. Trees and shrubs and flowers fill the view in every direction. The microclimate generators keep everything in the dome warm and damp and even filter through a light breeze. Out of sight among the leaves, birds chirp to each other.

“Oh.” Winter comes to a stop among the path, letting go of Tycho's hand to point. “Look.” He follows her gaze to a low branch and spots the songbird perched there, vibrant red and blue among the greenery. It looks at them, tilts its head, and warbles out a little tune that makes Winter smile.

Tycho smiles, too, as he looks at her. Their lives are so simple in this moment. A walk in a garden, a stolen moment of quiet, no Empire, no Republic, no war. It's a slice of the normal life they might have had without any of those things. Or the one they still might have when it's all over.

Winter's gaze shifts to meet his, and takes on a gentle, questioning look. “What are you thinking about, Tycho?”

He takes her hand again. “Just how much I love spending time with you like this.”

Her eyes sparkle as she cups his cheek. “I love you, too.”