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Becoming aware of his body felt more like crawling through thick black mud with weights tied to every limb, threatening to pull him back under the inky nothingness of unconsciousness. His bones were heavy and his muscles unresponsive, numb to the throbbing ache he instinctively knew should be present.
Something was tickling against his face, just under his nose. The sound of muted beeps and the subtle hiss of air seemed so close yet so far away. It all seemed familiar yet not, as if he wasn’t supposed to be the one on this side of those noises.
His head lulled to the side without consciously aware of it, struggling to do more than crack his eyelids apart just enough to see between his eyelashes. The action made his eyes itch and ache, and made him consciously aware of how his lungs seem to gurgle and crackle with every short breath he took.
He wasn’t blinded by lights, their harsh glow dimmed to a soft yellow, and he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing beyond that, his vision dark at the edges and fuzzy in the rest, as if he were trying to peer through the weave of fabric despite nothing covering his eyes.
There was a warmth wrapped around his hand. He didn’t notice at first, but the warmth squeezed carefully over fragile bones, and he instinctively wanted to squeeze back, but he couldn’t get his fingers to respond. A line of heat started to smooth over the back of his hand, coaxing the darkness to creep further into his vision.
“It’s alright, Hacksaw,” same the low rumble of a voice that made him think of inhuman golden eyes and grey streaks in hair, but he couldn’t remember a name. But he knew this voice, knew this touch and found his eyes drifting shut again as the thumb continued to stroke over his skin. “You’re alright. Just rest now. I have the watch.”
He let himself drift, the sounds and touch escaping his mental fingertips as he slipped back into sleep, knowing in his heart that the voice would keep him safe.
The next time he opened his eyes, he was a little more aware, but still felt as if he was a foreign spirit trapped inside a body made of stone. Or some great, fluffy moth who’d gotten stuck in the doorway of their little tree home. The lights were brighter and there was a shadow floating above him. It looked almost like a blue Twi’lek, whose skin-not-skin was glittering like sunshine passing through the thousands of little facets of a crystal. Pretty, but with edges sharp enough to cut into the strongest of durasteel.
Her hands were suddenly on his face, peering intently at his eyes. Her lips were moving, he realized belatedly, but his ears felt stuffed full of fluff that made up his body. He was simply too fluffy.
The mouth above him from the crystalline Twi’lek was curling in amusement, but he didn’t want to be bothered by it anymore. So he closed his eyes, imagining pushing himself back into his little tree home where he can be fluffy and safe in the small space, having great faith that the shiny-but-sharp Twi’lek will stab anyone who’d try to harm him.
And then he was hunched over the side of the bed, his lungs seizing as he tried to breathe, choking on thick clumps of phlegm and bile. He was less floaty and more achy, his limbs shaking and flanks trembling and he can’t breathe-
A hand was patting him firmly on the back, helping the lumps out from his throat.
“There we go,” a voice- Thorn, it was Thorn- murmured through the wheeze that rattled across his ribs. The hearty thumps turned to strong circles being rubbed over his shoulders, and he found himself slumping against the steady heat sitting beside him, his breath still short and wheezy and body still trembling from the effort. Even his bones felt congested, and every heartbeat pressed sharply against the back of his eyes.
The scrape of Thorn’s scruff against the top of his head made him sink deeper into his warmth, unable to sit up or move away. He could feel the chuckle vibrate through him, reverberating over every aching rib as his calloused palm soothed across his back.
He didn’t know how long it was before he had semblance of memory once more, his body back to feeling fluffy and soft and the lights of the room dimmed to nearly off. There was a window near his bed, he noticed this time, and the white curtains were pulled back to let in the vibrant shine of Coruscant’s moons pierce through the layers of pollution. He could barely see any of the usual streams of light from the endless traffic, instead he saw glimpses of starships beyond the atmosphere, mimicking the billions of stars that the poor air quality consumed.
There was a body curled up against his side, carefully tucked under an arm littered with IV lines and monitor pads. He couldn’t make out who they were, but he could feel their breaths against the rise and fall of his own chest, abet deeper and against the low rattle that settled deep in his lungs.
It was alright, he decided, eyes drifting shut again as he soaked in the pale glow of the moons. He was a fluffy enough moth to protect this little caterpillar for the night. He can keep them warm and safe. No harm will come to them under his dense down.
And then there was a Jedi at his bedside.
The curtains were closed, the lights were on, he could feel it in his bones that it was daytime, sometime in the morning, although he couldn’t be certain how long it’s been. He felt less fluffy again, more achy, with the rattle in his lungs worrying but he didn’t feel as wheezy as before.
The Jedi seemed familiar, with his bald head and stern expression. A name on the tip of his tongue, but lost somewhere in his throat. His felt like a great crustacean, with thick, study exoskeleton, but underneath was a soft underbelly full of delicious meat.
He should be careful around birds- they’d tip him over and try eating him.
“I can see what they mean now,” the Jedi mused, his tone laced with good humor. Crab-not-crab was holding his hand. He curled his fingers to squeeze back, but his fingers only partially responded. Still, the Jedi returned the gesture, his hands almost as large as his own and just as kind.
“Your vode have been worried about you,” the Jedi continued, keeping his voice soft to not draw the ire of shiny-but-sharp. “They wished to be here, but they were called away. You’re stuck with me for now.”
That’s alright, he reasoned, feeling sleep tugging once more at his weak body. He didn’t mind if crab-not-crab was here, so long as there was someone. And he felt safe- kind and patient, who wouldn’t mind if he couldn’t keep the energy to have his eyes remain open any longer.
“I don’t,” the Jedi’s whisper floated across his thoughts as the reaching fingers of sleep pawed at him once more. “Get some rest, give yourself some time to heal.”
And Hacksaw let himself drift once more, knowing that once he woke, he will still be safe within the walls of the Jedi Temple, with someone at his bedside to keep him company no matter how long his recovery would take.