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Avar's head spins, heavy, intoxicated by the rarefied air of Coruscant as the Gaze Electric lifts off before her. Marchion's mocking smile still lingers in her vision, blurred by the overwhelming presence of the Nameless.
As she tightly clenches her fists, feeling the wind on her face, she holds her breath. The dissipating adrenaline in her body allows her stiffened muscles to relax and, gradually, her vision begins to clear again as the chaos around her comes to life.
Men, women, Jedi and senators move restlessly on the bustling platform, in a cacophony of noise. The rustle of robes, the heavy sound of footsteps on the durasteel confuse her, but the pain that tears at her side pounds in her ears, drowning out the screams and the noise of the Vectors ready to take off, threatening to throw her off balance.
Elzar's voice still echoes through the platform, like a distant memory reverberating in her mind. She feels the warmth of his wrists in her hands, her fingers still clasped tightly around them in a desperate attempt to keep him safe. To keep him with her.
Blood, warm, down her side. Avar cannot see it, but she feels it slowly dripping on her skin and she is sure it has stained her pristine robes, trickling down her thighs.
It does not surprise her that the wound has reopened; after all, the Axiom’s doctors had prescribed her rest.
Rest, she thinks thoughtfully, sliding a hand over her aching side. She takes a moment to catch her breath, her hand gently brushing over the wounded spot on her side. She knows she won't be able to rest any time soon, not with the revelations brought to light by Marchion Ro.
She feels Elzar's concerned gaze rest on her, his brow furrowed with worry. She does not see him, she cannot, her eyes are shut tight, her face contorted in a grimace, seeking for a rhythm, a constant in the Force to ease her pain. But his sole presence gives her a sense of security, enveloping and unwavering, and tethers her to the present.
Exhale, inhale, she hears a voice whispering in her mind as the thin Coruscant air burns her lungs with each breath.
Exhale, inhale , he orders her gently, and Avar obediently follows it, focusing on the steady rhythm of her breathing.
Exhale, inhale.
It is not her voice that echoes softly between the edges of the Force, giving her fleeting relief, but the familiar restless movement of the tide that now lulls her.
Confusion and fear dissolve, washed away by Elzar's calm tide, and Avar finds herself floating between pain and elation, in a space of deep tranquility.
Elzar's warm hand grasps hers, and Avar feels a sense of peace wash over her as she leans gently against his shoulder. There is comfort in knowing that Elzar is with her, there, in the Force. There is solace in knowing that he is her anchor, a steady point when the Galaxy swirls all around her.
"Come with me," his voice, a soft whisper, reaches her ears as he tenderly tightens his grip on her hand. The calloused tip of his thumb brushes against the back of her hand and Avar smiles faintly, meeting his eyes lit by the soft glow of the setting sun. She nods with effort, allowing herself to be guided through the bustling crowds.
No one really pays attention to them, their hands firmly intertwined, as they make their way through the Temple's secondary gate.
Elzar quickens his pace, a trickle of worry breaking into their bond as a painful groan escapes her lips. Avar's mind is hazy between memories that seem to be fading too fast and a very present pain that throbs at her side with every step, but she still tightens her grip on Elzar’s hand, summoning her last remnants of strength to draw into the Force and reach out the edge of their bond.
I’m alright, El she whispers in a light attempt to soothe his inner turmoil. The once tranquil and rhythmic waves now surge fiercely in the Force, clashing like a discordant note in the soothing Song that resonates throughout the Temple. The rustle of robes, the joyful laughter of younglings darting down the hallways, and the soft giggles of Padawans exchanging shy glances all blend together in the Force into a pulsating Song that follows the rhythm of Avar's footsteps.
I know , Elzar’s voice echoes in her mind after a long pause, but you must treat your wound. Uncertainty and fear still linger with him, but they slowly give way to a calm, trustful tide as Avar leans closer to him, their shoulders brushing against each other, finding solace in the warmth of their connection.
Elzar glances at her, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. A ripple of relief glows in his dark eyes, and a new certainty washes over him as he inputs the code to his quarters door.
As they cross the threshold into his tiny quarters, Forfive’s mechanical voice, as urgent as ever, immediately floods them with a barrage of scheduled appointments and pressing priorities that supposedly demand Master Mann's immediate attention. Avar instinctively presses two fingers to her aching temple, frowning as the droid’s relentless stream of information fills the room.
"Master Mann, we are late for—" ForFive begins, but is abruptly silenced by Elzar's finger pressing firmly down on its intercom. The droid emits -if not exhales- a shaky beep that reverberates through the small space of Elzar’s room.
“FourFive, I need you to go to the med bay," Elzar’s stern voice cut through the droid’s incessant beeping, effectively halting any further attempts to drown them with lists of priorities and appointments. Avar, though weary, can’t help but grin, amused by the sight of Elzar rolling his eyes at the droid’s meticulous, yet annoyingly petulant, hyper-organization.
She always thought it was fair payback for the prank he'd tried to pull on Stellan years before.
“And bring a medkit and some bandages—maybe a bacta patch as well. Say Master Mann requests them.” ForFive let out a beep that, to Avar, sounds suspiciously like an annoying complaint, mumbling something about Master Mann’s habit of always being late. But the droid’s console soon lights up bright green anyway, dutifully recording its master’s request in its memory chip.
Elzar’s hands then move to her cloak, skillfully unfastening the golden clasp that holds it together, letting the fabric slide down and pool at her feet. “And please inform the Council that Master Kriss will not be able to attend the meeting today,” he adds tersely, just before the droid closes the door behind him, not without emitting a long -last- thoughtful beep.
“El…” Avar’s protest slips faintly from her parted lips, but her words are cut short as she watches Elzar’s fingers deftly move down to the studs of her belt. With careful precision, he unbuckles the holster that holds her lightsaber and then removes the blood-stained leather sash. Both items hover weightlessly in the air, guided by a barely perceptible gesture of Elzar’s hand, before settling gracefully on the surface of his bed.
"You’ve endured more than enough," he murmurs softly, the cold tip of his nose brushing against her cheek, his breath a tender caress as he gently slides her tabards from her shoulders, letting them fall to the floor. "You need to rest," he insists, his voice laced with genuine concern.
Avar lingers in the warmth of his hands as they slowly glide down her neck, crawling inside her tunic. She tilts her head slightly, their noses brushing, and for a fleeting moment, she is tempted to catch his lips in a kiss. But even as she relishes the closeness, she can feel the familiar ripple of his teasing running through their bond, and she knows she can’t give in so easily.
"The Council needs to know what happened on Vixoseph, as soon as possible." Avar says, her voice straining as she swallows, the memory of the battle from a few hours earlier blurring with stars, flesh, and bone in her mind. Her consciousness had been lost, swirling tumultuously within the very fabric of the Galaxy, teetering on the edge of the Force—only to be pulled back from the void by Elzar's unwavering will. The same will that had saved them both from the Nameless.
“The doctors at Axiom said you need to rest, Avar. You don’t have the strength to sit through hours of meetings,” Elzar interrupts her thoughts, his voice gentle but firm as he leans in to plant soft kisses at the edge of her parted lips. “It was already a mistake to let you attend this meeting… Burryaga and I will debrief in your place.”
He presses his forehead to hers, his hand resting lightly on the back of her neck. His dark eyes sparkle like a myriad of stars in the galaxy, lit up by the soft artificial light that fills the room. If Avar could unite those tiny, twinkling lights like constellations, she would read an unspoken plea in his gaze: Stay in the present; don’t lose yourself again. Stay with me .
Avar remains silent, her gaze staring at those pinpoint lights as her arms slip around his back. Her hands caresses him, sensing the slight tremor in his breathing, which quivered beneath her palms and betrayed the turmoil he struggled to keep hidden.
Sorrow and fear don’t suit Elzar Mann's heart, where only joy should hatch, Avar knows it.
But her mind drifts back to the conversation they had shared just hours before, in the Axiom’s medbay, nestled together in one of the small beds. Avar had traced the sharp line of his jaw with her fingertip, feeling the roughness of his beard prickling her skin as she spoke.
Elzar had kissed her palms, whispering words of love into them, while Avar listened to the Song hidden within the Force—a Song made of push and pull, of tides roaring with the fiercest of needs, yet balanced by notes of dizzying proudness.
Sorrow and fear shouldn't ache Elzar Mann’s heart, but in him, the strong pull of love, with all its pain and joy, mixes and balances with his firm resolve in the Force, in a tide that makes him float in the light.
Avar remains silent, her gaze staring at those pinpoint lights as her arms slip around his back. Her hands stroke his palm, his pulse quickening, but a firm resolution in his dark eyes.
Avar doesn't know if she would have the same strength. To resist the pull, to be as rational and calm as he was, to control her fear.
"Practice," Elzar reminds her, a soft grin spreading across his face as he senses the slight hint of surrender in her will, as he undoes the first few studs of her tunic.
Avar smiles, sensing a hint of mockery in his voice, reminding her of how she had teased him only a few hours before, cuddled together on the floor of her room.
“Practice…” she echoes him, as she raises her arms to help him slip off her robe. Her hip throbs at the effort, her belt falls to the floor with a thud, next to her tabards, and the trousers of her robe follow shortly after.
The same robe he had so carefully helped her wear a few hours earlier, in the Axiom medical room, now lay piled in a heap at their feet. A slight shiver of cold runs through her before Elzar places his hand at the small of her back, drawing her closer to his chest.
There is no embarrassment; her skin tingles on contact with the rough fabric of his ceremonial robes. Her tired, heavy breathing mixes with Elzar's calm, steady breath. Avar steps forward, pressing herself close enough to feel the rhythmic thud of his heart against her chest.
She smiles as it quickens, a giddy note creeping into their song. For a moment they float together in a peace outside of space and time. There is the tide, warm, lapping against Avar's bare skin, and the melody of the waves, echoing like Eiram's sea in the empty room.
Her lips brush weakly against his jaw, drawing an amused sigh and instilling a lively note in the shared rhythm, reverberating clearly in her words. ‘But what is practice without a teacher?’
Elzar’s lips curve in a taunting smile, parting slightly just before the sound of his door alarm interrupts him.
His bored snort breaks against the reddened skin of her neck, the stirring voice of Stellan’s droid echoes down the corridor and his smile fades into disappointment as he is forced to pull her away and head for the door.
"Master Elzar. I regret to remind you that your meeting with the Council is in less-"
A beep of complaint echoes through his quarter's walls as Elzar unceremoniously slams the door in the metallic droid's face, locking him outside.
When he walks up to her again, Elzar clutches a small metal box, with some tiny blue vials stacked inside - probably bacta.
"Come with me," he invites her, his hand outstretched, waiting for Avar to reach out and take it, as she had countless times before. As she would forever.
Their fingers intertwine, and a sense of relief washes over Avar, her aching muscles soothed as if the tender stroke of Elzar's thumb on her palm were already more than enough medicine. He leads her towards the door near his wardrobe, concealing a small, private bathroom behind it.
A privilege reserved for the highest ranks of the Order, or elderly Masters, but like everything in the Jedi Temple, modest: a wall-mounted sink right by the door, a small bathtub with a few selections of soaps inside an ornate basket resting right on its edge.
The benefits of being an almost-Council member , Avar thinks, with a smile that hovers between sarcastic and satisfied.
Elzar huffs in boredom, skimming the edges of her thoughts as he bends down to place the medkit on the rim of the tub.
When will you and your titles stop mocking me? a note of playful exasperation echoed through his thoughts.
Avar wrinkles her nose, letting an amused wave ripple through their shared connection before replying.
“Not anytime soon, almost-Council member. Or should I call you representative to the Chancellor's Office? Or possibly, Master Mann. Actually, Master Mann sounds better.”
“Master Mann will give you the first lesson, now,” he says, kissing her cheeks and opening the faucet to let the water run in the tub “I'll give you a bath.”
“It doesn't sound like a lesson” Avar raises an eyebrow, puzzled, watching as he searches for some gauze in the cabinet above the washbasin.
Elzar burst out laughing, gently brushing the tip of her nose with a finger, loosening the frown that had soured her expression. “No, it doesn't. But we can't start any lessons with you naked. Not to that kind of lesson at least.”
“Oh, sure Master Elzar,” Avar rolled her eyes, but the sides of her mouth couldn't help but curve into restrained laughter at his obvious provocation. “Maybe we can save that lesson for later.”
With one hand wrapped around her waist, Elzar helps her sit on the cold rim of the bathtub.
Her body was tired and exhausted, and when her thighs touched the cool marble, she relaxed for the first time since the start of that day.
The few hours of sleep they had stolen, embraced in the Axiom’s nurse, had been little less than a palliative for symptoms that could have no cure.
It wasn’t the fight, nor the sharp tail of the Nameless that had pierced her side, that made her limbs tired, that twisted her body and soul. It had been the Force. The pressure of the galaxy, the stars spinning in her chest like supernovas exploding, draining the life out of her, faster than the Nameless ever could.
But now, as Elzar kneels before her, gently massaging the hollow of her knee, she no longer cares how many times she had died that day.
She is alive. And it was the bottomless sea of the Force that had brought her back to Elzar, her home.
Avar bows her head to meet his gaze. Elzar's eyes sparkle with tenderness, gleaming with the reflection of the gems set in her diadem, as he carefully pulls off her blood-stained bandages.
She winces as he dabs her open wound with one of the gauze pads, pressing lightly on her red open flesh to clean the blood from her side.
The stitches Axiom's nurses had applied had been rough, hastily done, just to stop the bleeding as soon as possible. A scar would likely remain, yet another on her body.
“I like them,” Elzar interrupts her thoughts as he unscrews one of the small vials, pouring some blue mixture onto his fingers, “they tell a story.”
They are proof that you are still alive . Elzar does not say it, but the words flood through Avar's mind clearer than his voice would have done.
She lets her fingertips glide gently over his cheek and he leans into her touch, his skin warms against hers.
The Force hums and buzzes between them, a low soothing tone that echoes the soft spin of the water pouring into the tub.
Elzar gives her a weak smile, as he starts to apply the blue compound to her wound.
Her fingers clench tightly at the edge of the tub and Avar forces herself to focus on just the sound of the water running in the tub, ignoring the tingling that radiates from her side, down her thigh, all the way to her curling toes.
Elzar touch is skilled and gentle, his fingers expert, his technique quite effective, but she had never been a good patient. She knew it, they both know that. Elzar covers her hand with his. “Hold on a few more moments, I'm almost done.”
Avar can only nod, her breath catching in her throat as she imagines the sensation spreading all over her body: on her hands, on her stomach... and in her mind the image of Elzar floating into one of those bacta tanks forms in front of her eyes.
A groan of surprise escapes her lips as the tide momentarily surges and the Force swirls around them.
It is not her own memory, or, at least, not her direct one. Avar hadn't had time to visit Elzar, who had been taken to the Starlight medbay after most of the critically injured from Valo had been transferred to the station.
Or at least, that's what she had told herself when she hadn't dared to enter the code to open the medbay door, and had turned back to her office that night. She had reports to fill out, and paperwork to read, before she could-
“It's not so bad when you're in a coma,” Elzar’s voice breaks through, his tone light, unaffected by their shared thought, as he applies an adhesive patch to her skin, being careful that the edges stick perfectly to her body.
“I-” she hesitates, unsure of what to say. Whether it is really the right time to say something after all. Elzar's fingers gently graze her side, drawing the line of her waist as he gets to his feet again.
His lips are warm as they press a kiss on her forehead, grazing the cold metal of her diadem, while his hands grip her face and his thumbs wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“I know,” he whispers, his low, husky voice breaking against her reddened skin, where the golden metal had left a small mark. His breath trembles for a moment, just a moment, before the song harmonizes again, their beats giving rhythm to the Force pulsing around them.
Elzar kisses her cheeks as he helps her lift and turn, to slide into the tub. The warm water steals her breath for a second and the muscles in her neck loosen against the cool edge of the tub.
She closes her eyes as Elzar sits behind her, his hands stroking her hair, slipping through the soft braid to catch a few strands between his fingers.
The scent of bubble bath floods her nostrils as his soapy palms descend to fondle her neck familiarly, pressing his fingers between the contractures of her shoulders.
Avar hums, relieved, the tension of the day melting away beneath his familiar touch as she tilts her head back, to look at his focused expression.
His gaze is relaxed, his lips curled in a smile, the wrinkles on the sides of his eyes less pronounced, despite two deep black furrows above his cheekbones. But his eyes sparkle, streaked by the soft light radiating from one of the bathroom windows. His soul is calm, warm, as familiar as the sound of his heart.
The same heart that had always been her guide, even when her own was too lost, too afraid to listen to the Force.
Elzar leans forward, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers as Avar lets his song vibrate serenely between them.
Heat rises to her cheeks when Elzar's hands slide down her chest, gently brushing her breasts, soaping her, and washing the dirt, the dust, the terror from her skin.
His thumb playfully strokes the areola of her breasts, before his hands trail down to her stomach and Avar lets her hands sneak into his hair, dampening and messing those perfect curls, as she brings his face closer to hers. He lets out a laugh against her lips, rubbing his cheek against hers, his slightly uncombed beard tickling her skin.
If she tries to forget the throbbing wound on her side, bandaged in Bacta, the memory of the icy cold when the Nameless had come close, the cold touch of the Drengir grasping her, Avar would let out a moan of satisfaction, perhaps mixed with a certain urgency and need, as his hands roamed familiarly over her body.
There was a tender intimacy and everydayness in the way he touched her, the past fading under the wandering of his hands as if Elzar had never been ready for anything but this.
Practice, they had said to each other. But perhaps they had never needed practice when that familiarity guided them. Elzar's hands are warm, they are the life coming back to her body through the stars and the Force itself, and anchoring her to reality, to that single moment of calmness.
“We should do this again…” she whispers, her head resting on the edge of the tub, tilted enough so that Elzar's lips can rest on her skin from time to time, kissing the sensitive skin of her cheeks or her neck.
“You almost dying because of your recklessness?” he teases while he helps her to stand and wraps her in a soft towel.
Avar snorts in amusement, rolling her eyes lazily while supporting herself holding onto his shoulders as they approach Elzar's bed. “You taking care of me in this way,” she points out, her tone obvious while she allows herself to sink onto the mattress, “I have longed for a bath for more than a year, to be honest.”
Elzar laughs, crystal clear. And his laughter blends into the song of the Force, with the tingling of the water and the melody of the song, warming Avar's heart. “I think we should move on to the second lesson for now, then.”
Avar's eyebrows arch in surprise, intrigued, but the tip of Elzar's index finger pressed to her nose and the mocking smile on his face halted her enthusiasm. “You resting until I come back,” he says, adjusting the pillow beneath her head. “I will warn the Council of your condition and try to be here as quickly as possible.” Avar's lips press into a pout, a slight pang of disappointment echoing in her stomach.
Perhaps Elzar had also felt it because a few seconds later, his lips brushed hers in a brief kiss.
A promise.
A smile curls on her lips before her eyes flutter closed and she slips into a dreamless sleep.
---
When Avar wakes up, two arms gently wrap around her waist. Elzar's warm, steady breathing tickles her ear, his chest resting against her back moving in rhythm with her heart, his forehead hidden in the hollow of her neck.
Avar sighs, feeling his robes rustle against her towel as Elzar presses himself tighter against her, the tip of his nose brushing against her skin.
“Keep sleeping,” he mumbles, his mouth caked with sleep.
A smile opens on Avar's lips as she lets his legs entwine with hers and between the blankets, stealing her warmth as she drifts back to sleep. This time, lulled by the waves of the ocean.