Chapter Text
With another swift kick, the pod door pops off like a bottle cap. Fresh air spills into the pod, cooling the beads of sweat on my face. Clutching my hefty shoulder bag, I crawl out of the escape capsule and onto the stone beneath it. The dull, grey light almost blinds me as I step out into it. A gentle breeze carries the crisp air across the jagged landscape that stretches out before me. I stand on the precipice of a cliff side, patches of forest and deep rivers twisting through the terrain many meters below me. Stomach tensing, I realize both how close the capsule was to the edge, and that the main vessel is nowhere to be seen.
Scanning the mountainside, I notice a piece of metal a ways away from the pod. Its edges are charred and jagged. Heart rate picking up even further, I creep around the side of the pod. Immediately the scent of smoke assaults my nostrils. With a sinking feeling so powerful that I may as well drop to my knees, I spot the crash site. Flames are consuming the front side of the large, commercial ship. Bodies are scattered around it, some providing further fuel for the fire. With my heart in my throat, I take off towards the crash site.
The closer I get, the more nausea builds in my gut. The fat in the air makes my lips sticky, and the smell of charred meat pervades the already powerful smoke. It looks like the vessel didn't take as much damage as it could have from the initial crash; most of the hull is still intact. Rather, it seems like an explosion in the front caused most of the destruction. Left in my stomach remains one glimmer of hope; I still sense life. What I actually see doesn't affirm this feeling. I approach the nearest corpse, throwing myself on the ground next to them. They're as pale as the rock beneath them, and I feel their throat. No pulse. This pattern repeats with every single body. Just as frustration begins to bubble in my chest, I catch sight of him out of the corner of my eye.
Even from a distance, I know it's him. Whether it's the Force or pure instinct, I can't say. He's lying two dozen meters away from the crashed vessel. I clench my jaw. The single Sith warrior on board is the sole survivor, besides myself. The frustration ferments on while I approach him. Flaring my nostrils, every single bit of that irritation turns into unease when I see him move. His movements are slow, sloppy, and aimless. He might not be entirely conscious. I pick up my pace, hand hovering over the lightsaber strapped to my wide belt. As I get close enough to examine his facial features, I fully recognize him. A face only a mother could love and nobody could forget, even if they wanted to. He looks as though only a thin layer of skin was stretched across his skull. Said skin is adorned with such a myriad of scars, it leaves me wondering just how many times his face ate glass. It's just as uncanny and unsettling as it was in the files – only now, it's animated.
With a slight gasp, I grab my lightsaber. He gently kicks as though he's trying to kick off an annoying blanket. One of his lower legs has a gash in it. It doesn't look deep from where I'm standing, but it bleeds nonetheless. I can tell his eyes are moving behind his eyelids. Slowly, he turns his head, but seems no closer to opening said eyes. Breathing through rounded lips, I try to calm myself. Then I notice the now visible blood on the side of his head, and the ice cold sensation in my stomach melts ever so slightly. Pieces of debris are scattered all around us. Any one of them could have hit him. A light feeling develops in my chest, and it feels like a cold river runs through my brain. This is oddly opportune. My mission to capture Samuel Hawke just got a head start.
Taking a deep breath, I focus and let the Force flow through me. My fingers tingle with energy as I squat down next to him. I twirl my hand around his head, as though caressing his hair with a hand's length between us. His eyes stop moving about beneath their lids, and his muscles immediately soften.
"By the book. Master would've been proud of that one," I mumble. My gaze lands on the lightsaber strapped to his side. I quickly unhook it and snatch it, almost expecting him to grab my wrist and prevent it at any second. It's small and looks as though it was carved out of a mountainside. The black stone material rests nicely in my hand, much to my surprise. I unzip my already packed shoulder bag, stuff it in, and zip it back up. Taking another, even deeper breath, I place one arm under his knees and the other under his back and pick him up as though I was handling a fragile bomb. He's very light, matching his short stature. Carrying him will be no trouble at all.
I stand up with him in my arms and take a look around. There seems to be a natural decline in the cliff side just next to the crash site. No matter what, I have to find a safer place to stay; away from the fire and the stench of burnt flesh. Making my way across the site, I take one final look at the devastation. Nausea cropping up in my stomach again, I speed up and cast my gaze down onto my captive. My only hope is that the unconsciousness I bestowed upon him lasts long enough for me to find someplace safe.
*
Either the days on this planet are shorter than I'm used to, or it's a later hour than I first thought. The day's last rays from the pale local sun peek over the tree tops outside of the small cavern. A few such beams still rest on the cave floor, but it won't be long before a campfire becomes pivotal to my continued survival and vision. At least the trees outside make for plenty of firewood. The blankets from the escape pod will do nicely as well; I've already stuffed one of them underneath Hawke's head. Sitting down next to him, I try to calm my nerves and focus. However, I am not even certain if I should be healing him at all. There's no telling how an injured Sith might react to my presence, or the situation we find ourselves in. Worst case scenario, I'm be contributing to my own demise by healing him.
The tension in my stomach extends to my entire body. Pressing my lips together, I hold my hands over the slash in his leg. I make every breath as deep as possible and close my eyes. I move my fingers along the length of the wound, never touching it. Nerves are throbbing, broadcasting pain signals along his spine. I move beyond it. Reach the root of the wound. I reach out through the pain and I mend. It always helped the process along for me to think of it as knitting. His tissue regenerates, reconnects, and grows anew like hesitant vines covering the earth. But the Force does not flow through me as usual. This tension in my body feels nothing like it does on the battlefield; it's not accompanied by its usual adrenaline-fuelled, meditation-like focus.
Sighing sharply, I let the Force continue to run through the wound like water in one of the rivers outside for a couple of seconds. That will do for now. I move my hands to the cut on his temple, maintaining what little focus I've built. This wound is shallower, more ripe for the mending. It knits well, and I let my hands drop. The regeneration will take it from here, in some measure. Brushing back a few loose strands of hair from my forehead, I take out my hair tie and include them in my ponytail. I rub my forehead and chew on my lower lip. Without disinfectant, all I can do is bandage. At least I always carry bandages with me.
Having bandaged his leg, I stand up and march back to what's currently my side of the small cave. It's not much, but shelter is shelter, and the surrounding cliff side is perfectly stable. With no nooks and crannies in its sides, we seem to be the only inhabitants. It's a small miracle in itself that I found it at all. As I motion to grab my shoulder bag off the ground, my blood runs cold. The sounds of fabric shifting against rock echo against the hard surfaces. With bated breath I look back at him, hand hovering over my lightsaber.
He's drawn up his legs and placed his hands over his eyes. Conscious movements. His breathing is hard and heavy, as if struggling with every breath. I let my fingers curl around the cold hilt of my lightsaber. Sweat runs down my back anew. His breath stalls, like mine. He lowers his hands and looks straight at me. My blood pressure spikes. In a flash, he pats his side, where his lightsaber used to be. Finding nothing, he thrusts his hand towards me. I immediately brace. The force grounds me. And yet the push hits me like punch in the gut. Feet no longer touching the ground, I'm propelled into the cave side behind me. The blow to my back shoves the air out of my lungs. As I drop back down, wheezing for air, I hear his shrill voice shriek. Drawing a hard-fought breath, I look up to see him clutching his injured leg. He's down on all fours, struggling to regain his balance. The second he secures his footing on his bad leg, he sets off towards the cave opening.
"Wait!" I yell with what little strength I can manage. Hawke manages to run into the cliff side and almost lose balance again before readjusting his course and dashing out of the cave. I pick myself up off the ground and rush after him. The instant I get outside, I see him stumbling through the undergrowth. With a hand on his head, he has to support himself against a tree trunk before moving ahead. If it wasn't for that leg, he would no doubt be much faster than me.
"Please, wait! I'm not going to hurt you!" He looks back at me, and I instinctively unhook my lightsaber. He tenses up, and raises his hand towards me once more. This time, I'm prepared. I dart to the side, only feeling a slight thrust on my shoulder. In the mean time, he's run ahead a good distance. I sprint after him, only to see him stumble and almost trip. A stifling sting runs through my stomach. He's in no shape to be running or fighting.
His stability improves, but over a distance of some two dozen meters I manage to catch up to him. Regardless, our chase is stopped short by a small chasm. Even from a distance, I could hear the water rippling at the bottom of it. Continuously weighing his weight on each foot, he's no doubt contemplating jumping across. As I approach, he seems to make his decision. He stays put and keeps his gaze fixed on me.
"Listen—" I say, before noticing the sparks between his fingers. My breath stalls. I turn my lightsaber on and throw it up in front of me to parry. With a steely gaze, he jabs his hands towards me. My lightsaber's soft, light blue glow pulsates erratically when struck by the lightning bolt. I can feel its power in my grasp. I have to fight to keep my lightsaber's position stable. My heart is beating a mile a minute. I've seen what Force lightning does its victims. It's incredibly difficult to recover from, if it even leaves people alive at all. As the electric burst ends with a crackle, my arm wavers from the sudden release. Panting, my eyes readjust to the dusk lighting. Hawke is backing away from me, a slight glow still lingering on his hands. Backing up at an angle, he stops just in time to prevent his plummet into the crevice. Lowering the lightsaber to my side, I secure my footing and straighten my back as much as I can.
"Please listen to me! I'm telling you, I don't want to hurt you," I repeat.
"Then why are you chasing me?" he asks, voice hoarse and low. He remains hunched over, muscles tightened and fingers tense, like a cat that's ready to pounce at its foe. The gears in my head turn quickly at his question.
"How much do you remember?" I ask, sounding almost as calm as my teachers urged me to be.
"What?" he says with a wrinkle on the bridge of his nose.
"From the crash. Do you remember any of it?" His eyes narrow and he scans my face as though looking for clues.
"It—Yes, it crashed. The vessel. Got outside, there were people, made my way through, then... what does it matter, Jedi?" he says rapidly, tone hardening by his last sentence.
"You might have a concussion. If your head hurts, that's why. I think you were hit by something when the ship exploded. That probably explains the leg as well," I say. His brows furrow. "I—I healed you. I found you and I healed you. Both of your injuries should recover faster—"
"Why?" he interrupts. His gaze is as piercing as it is accusatory. I swallow hard.
"I'm a healer. You're injured. That's kind of a reasonable equation, right?" I say, a hollow laugh escaping my throat. "And, well, I don't know where we are. I don't know this planet. I figured that neither of us would survive for very long at all without some sort of support. You being injured and both of us being lost and whatnot." I expect the liar's sting to hit my stomach any moment, but it doesn't arrive. Taking a deep breath, I turn off my lightsaber and hook it to my belt with shaking hands. His eyes widen as he takes in my actions.
"Listen, whether we like it or not, we might need each other here. It ups our chances of survival substantially. Especially with those wounds of yours. Even if I don't have any disinfectant, they'll no doubt heal better if I treat them," I say. My heart feels like it's about to burst. He stares at me with enormous eyes, as if I'd just told him that the Force was actually plain old-fashioned magic.
"You want to keep treating me?" he says, as if carefully weighing each word before speaking it. I press my lips together and lower my chin a bit.
"Yes. And I want you to play by my rules. I have your lightsaber, and you know very well that you can't do much in your current state. Our little chase proved as much." I can feel the blood pumping in my finger tips and hear it rush through my ears. "So do as I say, don't try to bloody kill me, and I'll mend your wounds and let you live. Call it a truce, if you will," I say. I wet my lips while he stares at me. A shadow of a smile creeps onto his face.
"You're serious," he states.
"I am. And I'm a man of my word. We'll be worth more to each other if we at least try to work together." I clench my jaw and he takes in my expression. His smile widens and my muscles tense. It's as if it's too wide for his face.
"Not what I expected from a Jedi," he says, and my heart skips a beat.
"No?" I inquire.
"Usually you just try to kill me."
"Likewise," I say with a single raised eyebrow. He laughs as hollowly as I did. I angle my body back towards the woods and nod my head back towards the cave. He furrows his brow, posture relaxing somewhat.
"Will you give me back my lightsaber?" he asks, once again carefully selecting each word. I scoff.
"No. Try anything funny and I actually will kill you." His gaze hardens, smile all but extinguished.
"Understood," he says, a hint of disgust in his tone. At this point, the pale sun has sunk below the trees on the horizon, now only reaching the peak of the mountains in the distance. Despite the mountaintops' rosy tinges, the undergrowth has darkened significantly.
"Get a move on, it's getting dark," I say. Keeping his eyes locked on me, he steps back towards where we came from, muscles still tense. He winces upon putting weight on his bad leg.
"It'll heal," I blurt out, a bit too enthusiastically. I try to tone it down. "It will heal soon. You just need to give it some time right now." He blinks at me, as though acknowledging my words, but says nothing. The instant he manages to pry his gaze off of me, he stops dead in his tracks. I follow his gaze and notice the smoke rising from the crash site on the nearby mountain. The ship itself is not visible from here, but the black smoke tells the tale without it. Tiny needles sting in my gut, as I realize that he likely never saw the aftermath until now.
Looking back down on him, my muscles tense with a small gasp; he's already moved further ahead. I lingered longer than him. Drawing a deep breath to calm my antsy nerves, I march after him. The shadows are getting so long that they take up more space than the last light between them. An icy feeling settles into my stomach. My senses are on high alert, picking up every sound and movement around me, watching for every shift in Hawke's body language. We're in for one long, long night.