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Chapter Text

The scream that ripped through the Exile’s throat was primal and gut-wrenching. She hovered over the body of her partnerfriendlover co-pilot, nails digging into his shoulders. His smile was lopsided - permanently now from the injuries in his face - and his eyes eye was hazy. Distantly, the Exile noticed that the pain in her chest was less intense than it should have been. That his hands were limp at his sides instead of gripping his lightsaber. She looked down. No yellow blade protruded from her chest.

The floor was different, too. The atmosphere was different. The Exile looked up at the mutedly shocked faces of what could only be a Jedi council. Brain too slow to realize that that shouldn't be possible, she pleaded, “Help him.”

And then collapsed.

-

There wasn’t much time for the Council to think. They rushed to help - of course they rushed to help. Who were they to let two people die in front of them? Despite the odd circumstances, despite…

“The dark side is strong within the human,” Ki-Adi-Mundi observed, in his voice a note of warning.

Mace Windu stared at the man floating in the bacta tank. His injuries were severe, with signs of prolonged torture. His injuries should have killed him, but he just… didn’t die. Despite all the times his heart stopped during surgery it would resume beating moments later. It was disconcerting.

“It is distant,” Mace countered, eyes focused on the man with a deep intensity.

“But you cannot deny that it is rooted within him,”

“I cannot,”

“So what are we to do?”

“We let him heal,” Mace’s voice was firm. “We will not condemn a man who cannot defend himself.”

Ki-Adi-Mundi hummed in disappointment. “And the Mirialan?”

At that, Mace hesitated.

The Mirialan woman who appeared before them and collapsed was an enigma to the Council more disturbing than the man.

Her injuries were minor, compared to the man’s: surface-level cuts, burns, and general exhaustion. The worst injury was a stab wound that cut through her back to her chest, only narrowly missing her heart - likely due to the human misjudging the alien anatomy. Still, it was recent enough to be healed. Much like the man, the woman’s body simply refused to succumb to the shock of the wound and subsequent healing.

That wasn’t what disturbed the Council, however. What disturbed the Council was that while they could sense the dark within the man, as hollowed out as it was, they could sense nothing from the woman. Less than nothing, all they could sense was an absence. An abyss that seemed to pull everything within its orbit.

None of them had ever heard of such a thing, including Master Yoda. The archive was being scoured for answers as they spoke.

“We will keep her and the man separate and we will assess the threat before moving forward with any decisions.”

“Such a thing is dangerous,” Ki-Adi-Mundi’s voice was grave. “The consequences–”

“Will be dealt with as they come,” Mace sighed and attempted to breathe away his approaching headache. “All we can do right now is wait.”

Chapter Text

Atton Rand knew pain. It was a constant companion to him - he was good at dealing with it and he was even better at inflicting it. When Darth Sion held him up by his hair and told him that he was going to teach Atton the true meaning of pain, he could only laugh. There was nothing that the Sith could teach him that he didn’t already know intimately.

And he was right, in a way. Sion was, for lack of better words, an amateur in the art of torture. He was a blunt instrument with no subtlety. It was painful, yes, but nowhere near the intensity of when the Jedi opened his mind to the force so long ago. Nothing could be worse than feeling all the pain you’ve inflicted on others directed back on yourself. The infinite feedback loop of guilt and pain and self-loathing and desperation and… Sion could never give him that and he knew it.

Atton spat blood at Sion’s feet and bared his teeth in a smile. “Is that it?” He taunted. “Can’t say I’m too impressed by your technique.” He received a swift and brutal kick to the chest for that one. Before he had the chance to wheeze, he was lifted by the jaw and brought close to Sion’s shattered face.

“We have not begun yet,” the Sith hissed. “I said that I would make you as a mirror and I intend to do so.”

Things got a little hazy after that.

-

Depa Billaba resisted the urge to sigh when she saw the man stir from his medically induced coma. She was prepared for the possibility that he would wake up under her watch, but she still held on to the small hope that it wouldn’t happen. Still, she breathed out her faint despair, stood from her seat, and walked calmly to the window that separated the waiting room from the medical facility. She glanced at the temple guards standing at attention in front of the door and nodded. Without a word, one of them left to inform the healer of this development.

She fought away the natural curiosity that plagued her and tried to keep her presence still and grounded, like a statue overlooking a valley. Steady and cold, but comforting - like her master. She allowed herself to acknowledge her wish that it was her master who had to deal with this instead of her. She held the thought in her brain, turned it over, and released it like one would release a dove. It flew away and she watched it go.

The man wasted no time in regaining consciousness, what started as a slow-twitch of the fingers quickly became him gasping in pain while attempting to lurch off the bed. Depa activated the intercom and said, “I strongly recommend that you stay in bed for now. The healer is on her way.”

The man froze and immediately locked eyes with Depa, knuckles white from the tight grip he had on his sheets. He forced his muscles to relax and put on what he might have assumed to be a charming smile. Depa rose an eyebrow in response.

“Y’know, this isn’t the first time I’ve woken up in a hospital and I gotta say you’re definitely one of the prettiest nurses I’ve woken up to.”

It took everything in Depa’s power to not laugh incredulously. Every day, week, year, decade of diplomatic and mental training led to the moment where she could look the man straight in the eyes and say, “I am flattered, please save your energy for the healer when she arrives,” in the most neutral voice she could manage.

The smile did not so much as twitch, “Yeah that was a dumb line,” he laughed and then winced. He glanced around at the room, the equipment, and the window separating the two of them. She even saw his eyes glance in the direction of the guards, though she knew he shouldn’t be able to see them from his angle. She made note of that. “Where, uh,” the man paused, smile drifting from “charming” to cautiously nervous. Or embarrassed? Depa rather thought he should be. “Where am I?”

She debated how she should answer. In the back of her mind, she felt the other council members who were free start to move in their direction. The healer was only a minute or so away. Figuring it was best to keep information limited until further notice, she simply responded, “You are in a medical facility on Coruscant.”

The moment the name of the planet left her mouth, she knew even that vague piece of information was too much. The man froze and his face paled slightly.

“Coruscant…” He repeated to himself, momentarily too dumbstruck to keep the worry from his face. “Where’s Chira?”

Depa blinked. “Chira?”

The fake charm and confidence leaked from the man’s face in an instant. All that was left was a desperate intensity. He stood from his bed, despite Depa’s alarmed protests. His muscles were shaking from the effort and his was pale and pinched with pain, but he walked to the window and leaned forward in front of Depa, bracing his arms on the transparisteel. The guards moved to attention, but Depa stopped them with a raised hand. The air was tense, all amusement fading until Depa was the Grand Council member she should be.

“Was there a woman where you found me? Mirialan?”

Calmly, Depa nodded.

“Where is she?”

“Safe,” her voice was hard, steel to counter the man’s sudden venom.

He laughed bitterly, “No… No, you’re not.”

It was then that the healer entered the facility and made a sharp angry sound deep in her throat when she saw her patient out of bed. She pushed the guards out of her way as she rushed into the main room and grabbed him firmly, but gently by his bicep. “You are not allowed out of bed.”

The man let himself get pulled away from the window and pushed back into bed. The healer alternated between cursing as she checked his stats and reprimanding him for being so reckless. The intensity was gone from the man’s face as if it was never there, the easy smile from before in its place as he let the healer do her job and answered her questions.

Depa stood there for a moment before she was told to give them some privacy. She nodded primly, walked out into the hallway, and waited for the council members to arrive.

The chill on the back of her neck told her that she was still being watched.