Flynn had been sorry to see her go. Cal had become a constant in his life; she was there every morning when he came on duty and, one way or another, found her way into the officer's mess on an evening. She had a bright soul, a steadily burning energy of good-humour and enthusiasm. Flynn had never known anyone like her. Then one morning he had arrived at his office to hand out the day's orders and found a note on his desk; it was Cal's last day, she was going home. He had stood apart from the group in the courtyard, away from their energetic chatter, the handshakes, the slaps on the back. Flynn had forgotten how to be part of it, if he had ever known at all. He'd smiled at her when she'd looked his way over the heads of the crowd, and waved as cheerily as he could as she'd mounted Buddy, regret gnawing at his heart. The dust of the road swallowed her and Flynn had turned back towards the castle, and already it was missing something, was duller than it had been before.

And now...now here she was, sitting on the same old bench he'd been frequenting for years, tightening her grip on his offered hand. Flynn was used to sorrow, he had lived with it, had caused it, had tried to end it; but to see Cal's usually grinning mouth down-turned in genuine grief moved him more than he would have imagined.
"Of course you can stay," he reassured her without hesitation. Denahi stood, his tail wagging uncertainly as he pushed his head into her lap and looked up at her with his miss-matched eyes.
"You can stay for as long as you need or want to." Flynn sighed. He would have spared her this. His earliest memories had been of a Shaman at war, and it had remained that way for most of his life. There was no one, on any world, he would have wished it on.
"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically, "I truly am."

What more was there to say? No one in Cal's position wanted someone telling them they understood what they were going through, even if they did. She would not want to answer his questions, to explain to him who they were at war with or how they chose who got access to the escape 'shuttles' (he still wasn't entirely sure what those were) and who did not.
"You're coming over to my place for dinner," he told her, "no arguments. And when I've got the kids to bed you and I can drink wine. We can talk about it, or we can talk about anything but, whatever you need and until then we can sit on this bench until you're ready to move." Flynn smiled at her, trying to coax one from her in turn.
"Things will turn out better than you think they will when you're wrapped up in it all. We'll find a way to find out what's happened to your family and until then you and Buddy are safe and together here. Regroup, soldier," Flynn nudged her playfully with his shoulder, "chin up. We'll try the hill again in the morning."