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For everything that Bo-Katan didn’t know, there was far much more that she regretted knowing.
She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, on the floor of the throne room. But she knew her body had become numb from it. She knew the silent tears that had been falling since she sat down hadn’t ceased. She knew the ache in her heart was only worsening with each beat.
She didn’t know if or when Maul would come back. She knew that if he did, and she was still there, he’d try to kill her. She knew she wouldn’t care to fight back. She knew she deserved it. She knew this was her fault.
She knew that her sister’s skin was ice cold. That there was no more breath, no more pulse coming from her. She knew she’d never hear her sister’s laugh again, or see her eyes, or hear her voice. She didn’t know how to make that feel okay.
She knew her sister was dead. She didn’t know how to tell her nephew.
Nothing hurt more than that, she decided. Not what happened to Pre. Not the way members of her old group, people she’d once considered friends, had looked at her after they saw her helping the jetii escape. Not even the planet falling into the hands of that murderer.
No. Nothing hurt, nothing mattered, more than the fact that her sister was dead.
And it was her fault.
Bo opened her eyes and lifted her head from its place on her knees. She blinked tears from her eyes and looked down at her sister. Her perfect, beautiful sister, whom she’d been twisted against for too long, now lying dead and motionless, with no chance of Bo ever making it up to her.
Oh, Satine. Bo took hold of one of her sister’s cold, pale hands, her heart twisting painfully when Satine’s fingers didn’t entwine through Bo’s like they always used to, when they were kids and Bo needed her big sister’s comfort. She brought the hand up and pressed her lips to her sister’s fingers. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, vod. Please forgive me.
She placed Satine’s hand down gently onto her stomach, just below her fatal wound. It made Bo feel sick to even think about what happened to her. About the pain she must’ve been in. Was she afraid? Bo would never know.
Her hand moved up to cup her sister’s cheek, softly brushing hair out of her face as if it would ever make a difference. Satine hated having hair falling into her face. I hope you’re at peace. If anyone in this galaxy deserves peace, it’s you. She leant down to kiss Satine’s forehead. Just like Satine used to to do to her, when she had nightmares. She continued to stroke Satine’s cheek. I love you so much, Sat’ika. I always will. I’m so sorry.
Bo heard footsteps that seemed to be approaching the room. She didn’t care. If it was a friend, they wouldn’t do any harm. And if it was Maul or one of his cronies… what’s the worst they can do? Kill her? Let them try. They’d already taken her sister. She didn’t care about herself.
But then a voice rang out through the halls that made a cold horror shoot through her veins.
“Auntie? Auntie are you in here?”
Korkie. Fuck.
She hadn’t thought about how she was going to tell him yet. He was going to take it hard. So fucking hard.
“Auntie Satine? Bo-Katan?”
He’d trusted her. He’d trusted her to keep Satine safe. And she’d failed. She’d failed him, she’d failed Mandalore, she’d failed Satine.
But she didn’t have time to think about that. She had to make sure Korkie didn’t see Satine like that.
She sprang to her feet, almost stumbled as she ran over to the door of the room. She got to it just as it opened, and Korkie attempted to enter into the room. She grabbed hold of his arms to stop him.
“Korkie, wait.” She hadn’t spoken in all the time she’d been sat by Satine. And her voice betrayed that. It was hoarse, scratchy, thick. Korkie took one look at her and frowned.
“Where is she?” His tone was cold and even. Bo flinched. What the fuck was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to break this news? She didn’t know the first thing about being an Aunt. All she knew how to be was a sister, and she’d failed in that. “Bo-Katan, where is she?”
“I… I’m so sorry Korkie.” Bo’s voice cracked. Not now, di’kut. Pull yourself together. “I’m sorry.”
That seemed to tell him enough. It wasn’t good enough, she thought, she should’ve calmed herself down, should’ve sat him down to gently break the news to him. He didn’t deserve to piece it together like this. She watched as realisation set in on his face, only for his expression to harden as her heart cracked open more.
“Let me through.” He spoke even cooler than before, if that was possible. Bo shook her head. She tried to speak but no words came out. Something was clawing at her throat. She couldn’t breathe. “Let me through Bo-Katan. Let me see her.”
Korkie’s voice was rising, just like the nausea rising from Bo-Katan’s chest. She gasped for air and shook her head again.
“Kork—” she choked out, cutting herself off with another gasp and a heave. Pull. Yourself. Together. He needs you not to be the goddamn mess you are right now.
But she couldn’t. Her head was spinning and her chest burned and she felt like every single one of her limbs were useless rubber. How she stayed on her feet she didn’t know. Korkie was yelling now. He was telling her to move, to get out of the way, to let him through. She couldn’t respond. She could barely think. She—
She was going to be sick.
The realisation hit her just as the rest of the strength left her body. Korkie was able to push past her, and her legs gave way, causing her to collapse to the ground as she heaved and emptied the contents of her stomach - which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot - onto the floor beside her. She heard Korkie scream and flinched. She needed to be there for him. But she couldn’t breathe. Every breath felt more and more desperate and now her throat and eyes stung too.
She brought her mind to the last time she’d seen Satine. It was the briefest of moments they’d shared, right before everything had gone to hell. Bo was nervous. She was nervous about what was going to happen to her now she was so obviously standing against Death Watch. And Satine had looked at her. She’d seen it. She’d taken Bo’s hand and entwined their fingers together. And she spoke what Bo didn’t know at the time would be her last ever words to her.
“He won’t hurt you anymore, Kat’ika. No one will. You’re home.”
Bo let out a sob, and it allowed air back into her lungs with her next inhale. She brought a hand to her chest and gasped, relieved by the feeling. After a few more deep breaths, all that was really left was a shaking that overtook her entire body. But she could breathe. She could think a little straighter. She could hear Korkie clearer.
He was begging Satine to wake up. Bo brought her hand from her chest to her mouth and sobbed again.
He was so young. She remembered being that young. She remembered how much everything hurt back then. She remembered what loss felt like at that age. She remembered how easy it was to—
No. She wouldn’t think about that. Not now. Not when Korkie needed her.
She pushed herself up, using the wall to keep from falling down again. She turned to look at Korkie. Her heart hurt again. He was cradling Satine closely to him. She could only see the back of him, but his voice was enough to tell her he was crying.
“Please, Auntie, please.” He sobbed. “Please wake up. Come on. We need you. I need you. Please.”
Confident enough now that she wouldn’t collapse, Bo-Katan pushed away from the wall and began to approach him. She stopped in her tracks, however, her heart finally shattering completely, as she heard his next plea, so quiet it was barely audible. “Please, buir, wake up.”
He didn’t know. Bo knew that. He’d confided in her when they were on their way to their ill-fated rescue of Satine that although she was only Auntie by title, although she wasn’t technically the one who “raised” him, he saw her as a mother above anyone else. The irony had made Bo chuckle at the time. Now it just hurt.
“Korkie…” Bo’s throat closed up again, but with more tears this time. She spoke as softly as she could, wanting to provide the boy with the comfort she’d failed to give him up until now. She wasn’t prepared for his response.
“Stay back.” The stoniness in his voice was one she hadn’t heard since a run-in with Satine, a few years after she’d betrayed her sister. “Don’t come any closer.”
Bo swallowed.
“Kid, it’s just me,” she whispered, hoping against hope that he’d just not realised who was speaking, that he wasn’t speaking to her. Korkie huffed, and still with his back to Bo-Katan, gently placed Satine back on the ground.
“Yeah. That’s the problem.” She winced. Ouch. “And don’t call me ‘kid’. You don’t even know me.”
“Korkie, I’m so sorry—”
“You’re sorry?” Venom laced Korkie’s voice as he spat out the words, finally standing and whipping around to face her. “Too little too late. If it weren’t for you she’d still be here. You can’t just apologise for that and think that’s going to make it go away.”
“… I know.” Bo tried to keep her voice calm and even, though it shook all the same. “I know I can’t make this okay. I just - I really am so—“
“You didn’t even try to save her!” That felt like a knife in the gut. She did. She tried so hard. It just wasn’t enough. Maybe that was worse. “You were too busy running around with your precious group killing people to realise that this is what they wanted. They always wanted her dead. Do you know how many times they’ve tried to kill her? Why didn’t you stop them before?”
Bo fought back a sob. She couldn’t cry in a confrontation like this. She’d been weak enough, that would just be pitiful. She took a shaky inhale and closed her eyes.
“I didn’t want her to die, Korkie,” she told him, “I really didn’t.”
“And why should I believe that?”
Because she did.
Tears were blurring Bo’s eyes again when she opened them. She bit them back.
“She was my family.” She couldn’t speak in much more than a whisper without risking tears. Korkie was like a lion raging against her, and she was like a pathetic mouse.
“You abandoned her. You abandoned us.” Bo couldn’t deny the truth in Korkie’s words. She looked down at the floor, crossing her arms over her chest.
“And I’ll always regret that Korkie. You have no idea how much I regret that.”
Manda, she was tired.
“Maybe you should’ve done something about it sooner.” No, I definitely should have. “But you didn’t. And now she’s gone. She’s gone because of you. You and your stupid people killed her. Your own sister. How can you live with yourself?”
I can’t.
“I tried.” Her voice cracked. “I tried so hard, I promise. But I —”
“But you failed.” She just nodded in response. “Nothing new there, then.”
Ouch.
She wanted to try to defend herself. To tell him she did everything she could. To tell him that even Kenobi, a Jedi, Satine’s Jedi, couldn’t save her. But she couldn’t. There was no defence, not really. She’d failed. That was final.
“I loved her,” was what she said instead, “I really did. She was my sister, my big sister, and I loved her. Even through all of this.”
“You had a funny way of showing it.” Korkie huffed. “I don’t have to listen to this.”
He headed for the door, pushing past Bo harshly. In a final, desperate attempt to get him to listen, she grabbed hold of his wrist.
“Korkie—”
“Fuck you, Bo-Katan.” He hissed, pulling himself free of her. “I never want to see you again.”
The next thing Bo knew, the door was slamming as he left.
And Bo sobbed.
She collapsed down beside her sister and pulled her up into her arms, clinging to her, sobbing now with total and complete abandon.
“I’m sorry Satine,” she sobbed, “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I hurt Korkie. I’m sorry I failed you. I’m so sorry.”
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
She pulled Satine closer, resting her forehead on her sister’s. “I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do. I wish I had you here to guide me.” She sobbed again. “I love you.”
I love you Sat’ika. I’m sorry.