Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mara scowled as she was lowered into the bacta tank. True to his word, Skywalker was there. She didn’t know what he thought he would accomplish — surely they wouldn’t come under attack here, and the medics seemed professional and competent enough. Still, that one voice in her mind sighed happily that he was there to make sure she wasn’t forgotten, left too long, or otherwise neglected or abused, no matter how unlikely that seemed. All her life the only person she had to advocate for her was herself, and when she did so it was often met with severe punishment. She’d always thought there were millions on her side, as they were all on the side of the Empire. But now she felt as if someone just might sometimes be on her side. On Mara’s side.

Luke felt her combination of apprehension and resignation as Mara adjusted to breathing in the mask in the bacta tank. She controlled her fear carefully. There was often a light sedative mixed in the oxygen to keep the patient calm in the bacta. Her eyelids drooped. Probably better if she can rest, Luke reflected. Her breath came faster as she….dreamt? Remembered? Visions of pain and suffering, unformed, dark and murky, came to him. He focused on her in alarm.

Though her breathing was rapid and her eyes moved under the lids, she was otherwise still. The droid monitoring her vitals was unconcerned. Luke opened himself to the images, trying to absorb them as best he could, draw them off, and shunt them away from her, if that was even possible. It was yet another thing he wanted to ask Master Yoda, but could not. He sighed in frustration.

Even with his eyes closed, the light from Mara’s memory was blinding. Staring into the bright lighting typical in medical units, pushed and pulled and poked and prodded while too drugged to stop it. Callous medical staff, formless, nameless, performed procedures without enough anesthetic, skimping on bacta and other medications, forcing her to move while she was in pain. Waking her from sleep to perform invasive tests. Careless of all dignity or humanity, even in a young girl. Luke fought to control his shock, disgust, and anger as he continued to accept the images and channel them away.

He moved closer to the tank, pressing his organic hand to it. Immersed in the Force as she was immersed in the fluid, he held the intention of healing her body and spirit. He sank into a meditation, connected to her sense.

Faintly, he heard a voice singing a child’s nursery rhyme just under the images of helpless resignation. Had she used it as a way for her mind to escape while her body was not under her control? Maybe a memory of a compassionate caregiver to cling to? Maybe it was her voice? The song was familiar. Aunt Beru had sung it with him too. He followed along, his lips moving ever so slightly with the words buried deep in his memories. The 2-1B droid might have registered the faintest of hums coming from the visiting human. In their Force senses, the bass and alto voices blended in harmony.

Eventually, the disturbing images subsided, and Mara’s breathing deepened. Luke could hear her heart rate monitor slow. He wondered to what extent she could feel his meditation.

Time stopped. The sound of Mara being raised back out of the tank stirred them both like a blaring wake-up call. She was blinking, recovering her sense of alertness. Luke stepped out to give her privacy to get dressed though he still listened for any sign of distress.

He was there when they returned her to her room.

“Did they sedate me?” she asked. “Did you see what happened? Did something happen?”

“Sometimes they put a light sedative in the oxygen during a dunk,” Luke said. “Nothing happened—completely uneventful.”

She peered around the room. “Hey, did something happen with my sight? Did they get me near the eyes?” Her fingers rose to her eyebrows and felt around, investigating.

“No, why?” Luke asked.

“It’s not blindingly bright in here. Like medically lit. It’s several shades darker. As if the lights were turned down. But they’re never turned down,” she explained suspiciously.

“Oh, that’s true. I see it, too. They must be conserving energy or something. Utilities are expensive on Tatooine. So how do you feel?”

She scowled. “Like I don’t know what happened.” She settled back into the bed and arranged the sheet with short, frustrated movements.

“What happened is you were submersed in a bacta tank. You did seem to be dreaming or remembering for a bit. I could see some of that. What was done to you before was terrible.”

She shook her head wordlessly.

“And then you stopped dreaming and just stayed submerged for a while. I was right there; I’d have seen anything. Nothing happened.”

She nodded slowly, considering.

“So how does the rest of you feel?” He waved to indicate her whole body.

“Better, actually,” she admitted reluctantly. “That must be some new sort of sedative cause I feel like I just had a good night’s sleep. I’ve never felt like this after a dunk.” A thought occurred to her. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you didn’t do anything?”

“I was just standing guard,” he replied innocently. Satisfaction spread through him, considering that something—the bacta, the meditation, maybe even the nursery rhyme—had made a difference.