Chapter Text
Osha sat up abruptly, awake and out-of-context. Her mind was back in the jungle on Khofar, back with Mae—loss and pain and confusion—but that wasn’t where she was. Not anymore.
She quickly took stock of her surroundings. She was in a cave, spacious and oddly homey. She’d been lying on a bed, a blanket draped over her. It wasn’t until she saw the spare bandages and bottles of tincture that she thought about the wound in her side.
Osha lifted her shirt to find a bandage wrapped around her torso, but it didn’t hurt. There was no stabbing pain, no torn muscle that protested every time she tried to move. A little lightheaded maybe, but nothing beyond that.
She noticed a bubbling pot of soup, and its aroma made Osha wonder when she last ate. Cautiously, she climbed out of the bed and made her way toward the pot. She grabbed a canteen and, after a wary sniff, gulped down some water.
She could hear animal sounds outside the cave, maybe some type of bird. But she couldn’t hear any people.
Where was she? Had Sol found her lying in the jungle, taken her somewhere? What had happened to Mae? At the thought of her old Master taking care of her, Osha was hit with a gut punch of loneliness and longing. She clung to that, because if she didn’t, she would start thinking about the bodies, about Yord and Jecki and all the others. She wasn’t ready for that yet.
Osha heard the quiet trilling of a small creature, near the mouth of the cave. It skittered away as she approached. She noticed a bag on the ground and dropped down to a crouch, rummaging through it. A dagger—it looked like one of Mae’s, was she here?—and some fresh clothes.
Once she was dressed, Osha stepped cautiously outside, holding the dagger at the ready. This certainly didn’t feel like Khofar. It looked like she was on some sort of island. A misty haze hung over her, and the air tasted salty from the waves breaking on the rocks below.
A ship—not Sol’s—was parked on a small quay jutting out of the water, but the walkway to the shore was half flooded. Maybe the tide had come in.
Osha’s mind was whirring, and she could feel her heart pounding. Not Sol’s ship. Who had brought her here? She gripped the dagger more tightly.
As she carefully picked her way over the rocks down to the shore, Osha saw…him.
Mae’s Master. He hadn’t claimed the title Sith but acknowledged that Jedi would call him that. When he was posing as a hapless smuggler, he’d called himself Qimir. But who was he really?
His back was to her as he strode along the shore. Osha stole silently after him.
The images of the bodies were ringing through her head now. All those Jedi, and he’d killed them as if they were nothing. Who was she with her dagger? Still, she had to try.
He hadn’t noticed her. He was walking with purpose toward some destination, but he didn’t seem rushed. Osha followed him to a lagoon. Hiding behind a large rock, she watched as he set down his things and began to undress. She could hear him softly clearing his throat.
The scar across his back gave her pause. It had a wicked look to it, a cruel curve. Who was this man?
He was the one who’d brought her here. Carried her into the cave, bandaged her wound. He didn’t seem to consider that Osha might have woken up and gone outside, because he looked entirely unconcerned as he stepped into the water.
There were dozens of questions flooding through Osha’s mind now, but she knew it wasn’t the time. While she didn’t know how she was still alive, she’d seen that he didn’t give second chances. He was ruthless, lawless, lethal.
He was distracted, bathing in the lagoon, and there was the hilt of his lightsaber sitting on top of some folded clothes. Keeping her eyes on him in the water, Osha crept forward. She picked up the saber, feeling its weight in her hands.
“How does it feel?” he called suddenly. His back was still to her, and although his voice wasn’t loud, it carried over the sound of the waves.
Instinctively, Osha snapped up to a fighting stance, holding the saber at the ready. As he turned toward her, she warned, “Don’t move.”
But her warning meant nothing to him. His voice was casual as he remarked, “Feels good, doesn’t it? To hold one in your hand again. I assume you didn’t keep your own saber when you left the Order.”
He started swimming back to the shore. “Your stance is good,” he observed, clearing his throat. “You should keep your other elbow up higher. Allows for a swifter block.”
Everything about him threw her off. It seemed like he threw everyone off.
Come on, Osha—don’t let him see you sweat.
Pointing the saber hilt straight at him, she said, “Stay where you are.”
He raised one hand slightly out of the water, as if to steady her. “If you’re not gonna join me, I’d like to put my clothes back on,” he said. He stifled a cough into his shoulder, then sniffed. His nose wriggled a little.
Osha held her stance, determined not to be rattled. “Sounds like you’d better,” she replied. “You’ll catch your death.”
The corner of his mouth twitched into an amused smile as he rose out of the water. “Just a small fever,” he answered, and Osha noticed the slight congestion in his voice.
Why would he admit any weakness to her? Why was he so nonchalant about being naked? Osha’s first (well, second) instinct was to look away, but she knew she couldn’t afford to let him out of her sight.
“You’re wondering if ihhh…” There was a slight catch in his voice, and he turned his head, muffling a sneeze into his hand. “Hihhhhhh-shnnnffff! You’re wondering if it’s honorable to kill me like this,” he said. “Heat of battle, it’s justified, but a few hours later, it’s vengeance.”
He moved casually, but he kept his eyes on her. “And like this?” he went on, rubbing his nose. “Unarmed. Unclothed. Unwell. Would a Jedi kill me?” He considered this. “Wrong question to ask. Would you kill me?”
Osha tried to keep her breaths even, her hands steady.
“Now you’re wondering how I can read your mind,” he remarked, sniffing lightly as he picked up his shirt. “I can’t, not exactly. Your anger betrays your thoughts.” He sniffed again.
“So you caught a bug?” Osha asked, lifting her eyebrows. It was the first thing she could think of, anything to unbalance him the way he unbalanced her. Anything to avoid thinking about how he could feel her anger.
He smiled at the question, a slow smile. Impressed at her nerve, or an amused predator playing with his food? He started to get dressed, saying, “The bugs were an unexpected surprise. I liked that. But no, I always feel a little shaky after healing.”
“Good,” Osha replied flatly. “The bugs did their job then.” After the devastation he’d left on Khofar, at least he hadn’t come away unscathed. The bodies were creeping into her mind again—she gritted her teeth, trying to steel herself.
“Not healing myself,” he clarified, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.. “Healing you. It uses a bihh-hihhh…” He paused, his muscles clenching as he covered his mouth and sneezed again. “Hhhh-nnnkkkhhhh!” He rubbed his nose. “It uses a bit of life force,” he repeated, clearing his throat. “Always takes me a day or so to bounce back.”
Osha thought of her wound, the one that didn’t hurt. He’d healed her, and at a cost to himself, even if it was a small one. Why would he do that?
“Why bring me here?” she demanded. “Why not kill me? Am I supposed to be your prisoner?”
“‘Prisoner”?” he asked. “You’re the one with the weapon.” He wriggled his nose, sniffing.
Osha needed to ready herself for her next question. “...Did you kill Sol?”
He looked at her, and for a long, silent moment, Osha couldn’t breathe. “No,” he answered.
She took a wary step closer to him. “Did you kill Mae?”
“No,” he repeated. He muffled a cough into his fist. “Interesting you ask about him first, though. He taught you the Jedi arts.” He smiled to himself. “But he’s more to you than tha– that….” He turned his head, burying a “hhhhh-shhhnnkkkhhhh!” in his shoulder.
He said he wasn’t reading her mind, but his words felt like an itch inside Osha’s skull.
Sniffing, he picked up his bag. “A special relationship, isn’t it?” he observed, walking past Osha without regard for the lightsaber she was still pointing at him. “Master and pupil.”
He strolled back along the shore. For a moment, Osha just stared after him, then jogged a little to catch up.
She stayed a few feet behind, needing to keep him in her eye line at all times. What was all this? Why hadn’t he taken his saber back? Did he know he could easily defeat Osha if he wanted to, or did he just think she didn’t have it in her to use it?
“You speak as if you were a Jedi,” she noted.
“I was,” he replied simply. “A long ti--” he pressed his knuckles to his mouth, stifling a cough, “--a long time ago.”
“I’ve never heard of you,” Osha said.
“It was a really long time ago.” His back was to her, but she could hear his smile as he said it.
He sniffed, then stopped walking, drawing in a sharp breath as he bent forward into a hard sneeze. “Huhhhhhhh-kkkknnnfffffhhhh!”
He made no effort to hide feeling sick, but it seemed he was trying to stifle his sneezes as much as he could. Osha couldn’t get a read on that. Was the brutal, deadly Dark Side user embarrassed about his itchy nose?
“Why’d you bring me here?” she asked.
As he started walking again, he ran his fingers through his wet hair, like he was trying to dry it off. Osha couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought she saw him shiver, just a little.
“Why do you think?” he asked.
“Leverage,” Osha said.
He glanced back at her. “Everyone does seem to want you,” he remarked. He sniffed, his nose twitching.
“If you keep me here, Sol comes to you,” Osha warned.
Maybe he didn’t feel threatened by her, but if he was smart, he’d realize that Sol was a different story. Her old Master had nearly killed him on Khofar.
“He’s found me before,” she went on, “and his strength in the Force is very powerful. Do you really think you could beat him in your current state?”
He paused, turning around to look at her. “Don’t worry about me,” he told her, sniffing lightly. “I can look after myself.”
The remark brought Osha up short. “I’m not worried,” she retorted. “But if you have any sense, you should be.”
“You think that’s his strength?” he asked suddenly. “That’s your strength in the Force, Osha. Someone ought to teach you that.”
He looked out at the water, clearing his throat. “I’d start swimming if you want to make it to the ship before sundown,” he advised. “Or you could wait for the tide t-to go-- out…” His expression grew hazy, and he caught another sneeze in his hand. “hehhhh-nnkkkhhhh!!”
Sniffing, he turned to keep walking. “You hungry?” he called over his shoulder.