(no subject)
Title: “Where do the Jedi Go?”.
Rating: erm, PG13 I guess.
Pairing: Carth/Revan (in this case his name is Skye, he doesn’t know who he is yet)
Summary: Begins during their escape from Taris, then continues on Dantooine, after making it to the enclave where they both can’t sleep
I heard Carth’s heavy breathing behind me and Mission rearranging her rifle in her arms. I edged my back against the wall, taking shallow breathes as I shifted shaking eyes around the corner. Sweat dripped down the dirt and grime of my forehead, threatening to blind me. I blinked rapidly, the hilt of the blade in my hand slipping in my sweaty palms. I held it upright, hugging it close to my chest. I viewed the corridor, holding my breath. Empty.
“There’s no one there,” I whispered to the man and the Twi’lek behind me, “But-” I took a shaking breathe, raising a hand to wipe the sweat out of my eyes, “ . . . there’s usually someone on sentry . . . a droid could be coming around the corner . . . “ I let the words trail off into the silent hall. Carth was steadying his breathing, like he always did before a battle. It was comforting to know at least one of us knew what we were doing. Mission was still and quiet, a reflection of her childhood, that I was coming to understand was mostly hiding and thievery. Surviving, if nothing else. She was just a kid. It was unfair. But I know she’d hate me to say so.
The found of footsteps, metallic, regular, three droids, sounded down the hallway. I held my hand up, whispering, “On my mark,” Carth leaned forward, breathing in my ear, “You and Mission take the rear droids . . . I’ll take the front,” He uttered a breathy, “yeah,” and I waiting two more seconds, the droid was closer, closer . . . it’d be about six feet, two strides from me.
I tried not to think. Maybe that was the key.
I jumped from my hiding place, Carth followed, leveling his arms as his blasters, one ratty pistol we picked off a Vulkar thug in the Undercity and his own beat-up blaster with a homemade scope and worn taped handle, shot a steady stream of red light, hitting the far droid square in the chest. Nice shooting, I thought with an inward smile, maybe someday I’ll be that good. My blade came down in the wire area between the head and the neck of the droid, the impact shot pain all the way from my arms to my toes but it definitely did some damage. With a grimace I swung the blade to come around to the other side of the droid’s head, ducking away from the droid’s precise, flawless shot that would have gotten me right between the eyes. Sparks flew, I squeezed my eyes shut, one of my hands dropping from my weapon. I brought the blade up in time to parry an attack, metal on metal, against the strength in one arm. Through gritted teeth I saw Mission in the glow of blaster fire, dancing away from the droid’s fire like she was born to it, the heavy rifle nestled in her thin blue arms, hitting her target with an expert eye. I got my blade in both hands again, arranging it to come down between arm and chest, at just the right moment, sending it sinking into the smoking remains of the droid’s inner parts.
Carth had finished his and in one fluid movement he redirected one blaster to help Mission, and with the other he hit my struggling droid in the head, making it drop to the ground along with Missions.
‘Good job, Carth,” I said, he flashed a smile, “You too Mission,”
After kicking the virtual tin can remains of the droid Mission looked up and down the hallway, light on her feet, ready if there were more. “Droids are easy,” she said, letting her arms drop in the ill-fit armor she was wearing over her small body, “Let’s get to the good stuff,”
“Like Davik,” I continued her thought. Carth had fallen silent again, like he often was, as I tugged at my sword buried in the droid’s body. It felt caught in the wires and bolts of the rusted sentry droid, almost to the hilt.
“Looks like you misjudged your own strength,” Carth said, stepping over to me. I grumbled, nodding grimly, a little embarrassed, bracing a foot on the droid’s body, straining. Out of the corner of my eye he reached a bloody hand to grab the hilt of the sword, just below where my hand was, standing for a moment directly behind me. He pulled with the one arm, retrieving the blade with a grunt.
“These don’t grow on trees,” he said, like a joke, though with Carth you knew he was taking most everything serious. Always the realist.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling for the hundredth time since I woke up on the Endar Spar, like I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I was damned if I had any right leading this hopeless team at all. I wasn’t a solider. I was a smuggler. My life before this had been a blur of freighters and quick getaways. Forgettable nights at starbases in nameless cantinas. We dragged the droid remains into the computer room, taking refuge in the small enclosed space, walls covered in blinking lights, metal hot from its operation systems.
“Mission,” I said to her, making her come closer, “Slice into the security system, I have a feeling the hangars near here,” I looked up, sensing the heavy vibrations that could only be a ship, “We need that door open, check out what security they have too,”
“On it,” she said, slinging the heavy weapon behind her back with the makeshift sling I’d made for her. She dove into the computer, fingers a blur. I licked at my lips, blood on my tongue. Clearing my throat, I took position by the door, Carth at the other corner, keeping an eye out. I glanced over at him, running the back of my hand over my forehead. It was so hot in here. He had several wounds, from small burns on his neck and face, from sparks and deflected blaster shots, to a bleeding gash on his right arm, mixing with the orange fabric of his jacket. He didn’t show pain. He kept his face a mask, brow furrowed, mouth set firmly as his hands held his weapons raised and ready. I listened down the hall, glancing into the stretch of metal sheets that made up the haphazard structure, then deciding it was clear stepped over to the man bleeding in the orange jacket.
“Carth,” I said, making him turn his dark eyes to me, away from his task, “Let me dress that,”
“It can wait,” he said, looking away again, like he felt that his eyes were breaches in the wall he had erected around himself.
“It’ll only take a second,” I said, reaching into the bag strapped around my waist, taking out what first aid we had. He squared his shoulders, clearing his throat, then holstered one of his guns, the pistol, and held his arm out somewhat reluctantly. I carefully examined the wound. He stood completely still, showing no signs of pain. When I pulled back the remains of his jacket sleeve, blood flowed freely down his arm, pooling around his elbow. I gritted my teeth, clearing away the scraps of fabric and bits of metal in the mess that was his upper arm.
“Doesn’t this hurt?” I asked him, watching is slow, control breathing.
“No,” he answered right away. His face softened slightly, an action which meant his jaw loosened, his brow relaxed, making the lines in his tough face disappear, “Yes,” he said, “But it’s only on the surface though. I can ignore it,”
I began to wrap the cloth around his arm, my bloody, sore fingers tightening the material around the wound, tighter and tighter, to stop the bleeding. I watched at he showed no sigh it hurt him, he didn’t make a sound. I pulled, making sure not to cut off his circulation, then tied it. He turned his chin to look at me as I finished the knot, smoothing out the bandage with my hands. His warm arm under my fingers, his faint heartbeat, was somehow comforting considering where we were. It was easy to forget there was something alive around so much technology and death.
“How’s that feel?” I asked him, glancing at his eyes, giving a small smile as I straightened up, whipping my hands together to symbolize a job well done.
“Pretty good,” he replied, flexing his shoulder, “For a smuggler,”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I responded, not sure if he disapproved of me being a smuggler, or if he just disproved of me in general. I felt embarrassed under the decorated war hero’s gaze, and I didn’t exactly know why, but before I could look away Mission called my name. Breaking whatever exchange we’d had, me, the stranger that got a little too involved with the Sith and a battle I was never part of and the solider that had gotten caught up in all this Jedi business and despite all the combat he’d seen was way over his head, I fell away from him, taking steps toward Mission.
“Alright,” she said, leaning an elbow on the counsel, “Do I know splicing or do I know splicing,”
“You got it?”
“I could give you Davik’s grocery list if you wanted it,” she laughed, throwing, one of her head tails over her shoulder as she leaned over the computer and pointed at blue screen image of the compound, in a smaller quadrant, the hanger.
“Way to go, Mission,” I said, smiling at her. She reacted like the young girl she was but wouldn’t admit, if her skin wasn’t blue I’m sure she would’ve blushed, then smiled back as I said, “What would I do without you?”
“Probably be rubbing elbows with Davik right now, but not in a good way,” she said, then looked back at the screen, “Okay, basically I shut off the turrets and the systems aboard the Hawk were tied into the hangar computer, with some screwy security measures too. Making this an easy job for this Twi’lek,” she pushed another button, Carth had joined us by the counsel, our faces covered in the blue light, “So all we gotta do is go in and start’er up. Excpet for this--,” she pointed a blue finger at a smaller screen, “Camera’s picked up our very own wish-he-would-take-a-high-dive-off-a-tall-building Calo, and the one and only mobster Davik himself. On the way out.”
“They’re making a break for it,” I said, “We gotta hurry, before Davik flies the coup,”
We moved in front of the door. Mission swung her rifle back in front of her. Carth wielding his blasters. I needed a plan for attack. Two against three was good odds. And we had surprise on our hands. But I knew I was underestimating Calo. And Davik hadn’t become the lord of all the mob on Taris for his bridge playing skills.
“We attack Calo. Ignore Davik,” I said, Carth caught my eye, doubt weighing his gaze, “Calo’s the bigger threat,” I whispered.
“I don’t think we can leave Davik open,” he said.
“So we throw a grenade at the bastard before he can try something slimy,” Mission said, “How many we got,”
“Not many,” I said, “I’m gonna stay melle. Carth, you and Mission concentrate your fire on Calo. He’s got shields, I know it, but they only get you so far. I’m going to take Davik down as fast as I can-”
“Whoa,” Carth interrupted me, back against the opposite wall, facing me and Mission, “You think playing hero’s the best idea right now. We need that ship. We need off Taris.”
“I know that,” I said, “You guys better plan for grenades, I want everyone to scatter as soon as we enter, fan out, don’t stick to one spot too long . . . come on,” I said, flashing him a wide grin, “Davik a geezer. I can take him,”
“Skye,” he said, leveling me with a more experienced, probably smarter gaze. I felt my resolve loosen, my shoulders were shaking a little. He was the better solider. I was a fake. A coward. An idiot. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t know where I belonged. He kept talking to me though. “I got your back,” he was saying, “Don’t do anything stupid. I know your not stupid,” I looked away from him, his voice full of authority, “Mission,” he continued, “Throw the first grenade, make it a concussion, I’ll take the right, you go left. Fire at the rafters.”
“What?” she asked, large eyes wide, “You are crazy,”
“The Sith are bombing this whole planet. We just need the ship,”
“Fine,” I said, “Fine. But I’m still going melle. At least it’ll throw them off guard. What kinda idiot runs into blaster fire,” I joked.
“Okay . . . what’s the plan?” Mission asked in a panicked voice.
“Stay behind me,” Carth insisted, “I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” she retorted, “I’m not gonna stay behind you! I’m no wimp!
“Mission . . .” I tried.
“Do as I say,” Carth said, his voice louder, his whole body shaking with energy, “Let Skye take frontal attack. You and I take the whole god damn ceiling down. We get the ship. We’re outta here.” He looked at both me and Mission. I glared at him. I was the leader. It was my call. Not his. “Got it?” he demanded. Mission almost stuck her tongue out at him, but rummaged through her bag for the grenade. I nodded, standing at the ready.
“Let’s hope this goes better than the plan,” Mission said, fingers flying over the door controls. The door shot open. I scanned the hanger quickly. Saw them. Took off at a run. They reacted in surprise. Not only were they getting hijacked they were in the middle of a Sith induced earthquake. They had their blasters raised. Calo was throwing a grenade. Well, we’d predicted that much right, I thought though it was little assurance.
“Skye!” Carth yelled at me, ‘Not yet! What are you-“ blaster fire roared in my ears, Calo’s grenade shook the ground under my feet. I went down, rolled, was up in a flash, right toward the wrinkly bastard Davik. Why not yet, I wondered, then suddenly a flash that made everything white knocked me down, the waves swimming through my body, swirling, twisting, making my muscles turn into jelly. I struggled on the ground, screaming at my muscles, get up, get up, but they felt heavy, weak, my head spun, my vision was gone. I was temporarily blind. Of course, Mission’s grenade. She’d thrown it before she could see what an idiot I was being.
I was almost on my knees. Keep going. Get a foot under you. My leg wouldn’t work, my foot kept slipping, my knee kept giving in. I was almost there, ghost, grey images starting to become clear in my watery eyes, my ears assaulted by Mission and Carth’s attack when I felt what I guessed, falling backwards, head smacking the floor, was a boot, hit me square in the jaw.
He laughed, “If it’s not my newest employee,” he sneered, “Not wearing any protection again those dizzy bombs are we?” I glared at the blurry shape standing over me, baring my teeth, “Having a hard time standing, huh?” he asked, his boot hitting me again. I bit my tongue, blood filled my mouth. I kept scrambling, trying to get up. GET UP! I saw the shapes move, it looked like . . .it looked like he was going to-I dodged, my feet came up under me, strength coming out of no where, my blade twirled in my hand, arched, came down on the back of that moron’s neck. Blood splattered. He went down hard, tried getting back up. I almost heard the crashing of the rafters falling behind me. I yanked at the thin white hair over Davik’s head, my eyes watering from the grenade, my vision almost back to normal. I held my blade up to his gasping throat.
“Skye! We got the green light! Let’s go!” I heard. A dark shape. Carth, came skidding up next to me. I saw blue and knew it was Mission. They’d handled everything while I made a fool of myself. Davik struggled under my grip.
“Just one more second,” I hissed, but as I was about to slit his dirty throat Carth grabbed my arm in an iron grip, dragging me to my feet. I struggled in the other man’s painful grip, pulling away but he practically picked me up, across the ground, up the ramp. He threw me against the wall of the ship, taking off to the controls.
I felt my knees give out again. I slumped to the ground, trying to steady myself on the metal hull, my head spinning. I drew one hand up to the pain in my temple, the other curled around my stomach as I started to heave uncontrollably. Nothing came up. I hadn’t eaten in too long. I tried focusing my eyes, dirty, grimy fingers braced against the wall. I fought my way to my feet, almost falling again when the ship lurched off the hanger floor. My shoulder slammed into the wall, I stumbled down the hall. To where they were. Carth saw me.
“Strap yourself in,” he ordered me. Mission was already in the other seat. She brought her eyes to mine, holding tight to her chair, her whole world shaking around us, searching for my eyes. I couldn’t focus them yet though and my stomach was till doing flip flops. She was scared. I clasped in the chair. The world fell away from me. Whether it was the grenade, or the exhaustion of not having slept in days, of being in fight after fight with Sith or mutants or droids, I fell unconscious, clasped in the flight chair, gone to the world that was being bombarded out of orbit, gone from my frantic mind, my wounded body, my new friends, and from Bastilla, the girl Jedi only saying, “If things were different . . .”
I had a strange dream. It was dark and endless. But familiar, I thought as I stared down at the blood stained deck. Why is this familiar? My gloved hands were under me, I raised my head upward, realizing there were no walls around me. No, they were clear, clear into space. A battle raged beyond the confines of my ship. But it wasn’t part of the plan. That bastard betrayed me. Left me to her. I saw the feet, small, careful feet, standing over me. My vision was distorted but that was because I was wearing a mask. Blood filled my mask, making me gag, dripping from my nose, my mouth, choking me. I heard myself laughing. The only reason I wasn’t dead, why I was laying on the floor, looking at those dainty feet, was because of the fool Jedi religion. I was laughing. I craned my neck upward, saw that face, that face I’d never forget because I swore to do everything in my power to kill her. Whether I was dead or alive, in this life or the next, I’d remember that face and she’d never be able to hide from me, no matter how much she believed in her magic, my magic, she would regret this. My breath sputtered in my mask . . . she said my name . . . her lightsaber glowed . . .
“Skye!”
My eyes snapped open. I shot up in bed. Not a bed . . . just a cot. I looked at my hands, they were bare. I took a breathe, felt the cool, thin air of a space ship fill my lungs. No blood, no blood around my nose, dripping down my throat . . . no . . . no . . .I focused my eyes and saw who’d said my name.
Carth.
Carth. The past weeks event came back to me suddenly, while everything else, the dream, faded. I felt my chest heaving. “Oh god,” I shuddered, running a both hands through my damp hair, bringing my knees up.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just a dream,” I said, trying not to let it show I was shaking. We were the Ebon Hawk, in the crew quarters, the only light shining from the computer counsels. Carth was sitting across from me, on a similar cot, a sleeping Mission lying at his side, her head resting on his chest. It took a moment but I brought my tear filled eyes to him. He held a protective but gentle arm around the sleeping Twi’lek, his injured arm limp in his lap, face calm despite the dirt and blood acting as shadows in the gloom of the ship.
“How is she?” I asked.
“Not so good,” he responded, lowering his eyes to her, taking a careful breathe so he didn’t wake her, his hair, dirty and damp falling over his face, “She watched her home get destroyed before her eyes. Gone . . . just like that,” he looked back up at me, brow knitted slightly, “We barely had enough time to pick the others up but we made it out . . . how are you feeling? You took that pretty hard,”
“I dunno what happened,” I whispered, looking again at my hands and getting the weirdest feeling . . . like they didn’t belong to `me, “I’m sorry,” I rubbed at my eyes, brushing tears away, rubbing my tongue around my mouth and tasting blood, “I shoulda listened to you,”
He smiled slightly, looked down at Mission, like he was remembering something. Damned if I could ever guess what was going through his head, “This has been an extremely hard week. I’m willing to cut you some slack . . . even if you are a no good-smuggler,” he smiled at me. I didn’t know if he could see my expression in the dark, but I was glad, relieved, he didn’t hate me for screwing up. I sat up, leaning back against the wall, my head protesting slightly.
“Hold on-where’s Bastilla?” I asked suddenly, “Where-” I looked in the far corner, sitting cross-legged, meditating, was her. I relaxed, breathing out, “Thank god,” I whispered, “That was the whole point of this suicide mission anyway . . . Is she-“ I jerked my thumb over at Bastilla.
“Yeah, she’s alright,” Carth answered, “Just doin her Jedi thing . . . I guess it’s like sleeping . . . I stayed awake, to watch over you guys,” he carefully rearranged his legs, crossing them in front of him. In the dim light I saw him grimace when his arm was jolted from where it rested, “You were out for a long time,”
“Well, I’m about 72 hours late on a good nights sleep,” I let my head fall back on the hull. I tried to take slow breathes, even, in control, my eyes falling shut cautiously as if the dream would start again if I closed them for too long, “But you are too then,”
He didn’t say anything right away, I listened to his breathing, the hum of the hyperdrive, the various beeps of the computer, not able to get the taste of blood out of my mouth, no matter how much I swallowed.
“There were times . . . “ he began in a quiet voice, “During the war . . . that I wouldn’t sleep for days . . . I think the longest was seven days . . . surviving off of stimulants . . . in a waking dream,” I heard him almost sigh, holding it in his chest like it was a luxury, then start talking again in a careful way, “But I know none of this is a dream,”
I thought about his words, “No it’s not,” I responded, “How . . .how did we get involved in this? I’m not a Jedi,”
“And I am?” he almost laughed, “I don’t even know if I believe in all that . . . Force or no Force, things happen . . . and I’m never strong enough to stop them,”
“You saved my ass back there,” I said, “I was out of it . . .” I exhaled, “I was gonna . . . I almost killed him,”
“I’ve never abandoned someone on a mission before. It’s part of my training,”
I looked at him. What he’d said seemed out of place, not just because this was so different than any mission I was sure he’d ever been on but because I thought he was my friend, not just a number. We’d spent almost every waking moment together. Not that there was a lot of time to get to know each other. But while he kept all of his pain, whatever had happened to him, hidden, I felt like I was an open book for everyone to see.
Just then ship’s sensors informed us we were approaching Dantooine.
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We all walked wearily off the ship, all except Bastilla, who all but ran across the courtyard to a Twi’lek coming out the shelter of a surrounding building, holding his hands over his ears against the roar of the Hawk’s engine.
“Zar!” Bastilla called, then stopped, breathless in front of him, fixing her hair.
“You’ve made it safely,” I heard him say, then saw him glance over the girl’s Jedi at me as me and my companions came to a halt behind her, “And you’ve brought visitors,” his eyebrows raised in a surprised expression. I looked over to see Canderous giving the alien an impatient glare, “Who are these people? I’m sure you wouldn’t endanger the enclave young Bastilla by bringing any enemies of the Republic here,”
My mouth dropped open and I glanced from the Twi’lek to Bastilla, waiting to hear her arrogant retort at such a demeaning question. Instead she leveled her small chin and said, “They can be trusted, Master,” then she looked at me in particular and I felt Zar’s eyes on me too, “I must speak to the Council,”
“Of course,” the Jedi said, taking a breathe, looking at me through half lidded eyes, then looked out over the whole group, “You can relax, enjoy any services we have to offer, we’ll be with you shortly,” And he and Bastilla turned and walked away at a brisk pace.
“So that’s what a real Jedi looked like,” Mission said once they were a good distance away.
“I guess,” I said, eyes still wide. I can’t deny I was impressed. More than that, he was unbelievable, everything you’d think a Jedi would be. His posture, his robes . . . he was so calm. T3 made a few loud beeps, his gears whirring as he turned to face me, “You don’t have to convince me,” I agreed with him.
“Alright, we ditched the Princess, can we go now?” Canderous asked in a growl.
I turned to him with a shrug, “As far as I know we’ll be staying here a while, Canderous,”
“Let’s hope they have the continental breakfast,” Carth commented, then put a hand on my shoulder, “Who’s hungry?”
Everyone rose their hand, even Canderous. “Until they wanna talk to me, let’s get some food and some rest,” I said with a sigh. I wondered what they wanted, yeah, but I was also too hungry to think straight. I walked alongside the tired solider, our elbows bumping every now and then, letting the already homesick Twi’lek hold my hand, having made it finally to where the Jedi were.
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I tried to act like I was absorbed with the workbench. I tried to move sore and bloodied hands steadily over repairs, always repairs, but nothing was ever fixed. My eyelids fluttered shut several times the way eyes do when they haven’t known enough sleep, when everything outside your head became large and foreboding and you want only darkness, like a cave. But the trouble was every time I closed my eyes, every time I let go of the threads keeping the basic bodily movements going I felt something creep in, something that scared me. I was afraid to admit it. Afraid to admit I was scared. Lately it was like I was two people, all in the same head, and whoever they were, if they were me or not, they were fighting all the time. And my dreams were their battlefields. My battlefield.
It doesn’t make sense to start perceiving yourself as another person now Skye, I told myself, a tool slipping from my hands with a clatter. I fumbled after it, swearing under my breath. So what was it? What was there, damn it, what was there in my head with me? I felt myself biting my lip, harder and harder, the pain a diversion. I banged at the metal of the beaten vibroblade, bringing the hammer down with more strength than I would have thought I’d had. I felt anger and I liked it. I like the feeling that burned in my chest, burning away everything into ash and cinder, nothing else. Not a trace.
I heard someone behind me, making me turn on a heel, hammer in one hand, focusing my bleary vision, realizing I hadn’t been blinking, on the form of a man, straight, tall, steady. Carth. Those were all things he was. I grimaced as I tried to make my mouth form words, to get my teeth to stop gritting against each other, but couldn’t. I went back to work. He’d say something if he wanted. I let the hilt clatter to the top of the workbench, or what was left of it.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No,” I managed, not separating my jaws. I felt my heart rate increase. I felt it beat against my ribcage, like it would break its way through. I wanted to breathe through my mouth, to get more air but I couldn’t.
“Mind not keeping all us up then?” Carth asserted.
The torch in my hand flared, “I’m almost done,” I muttered, hand starting to shake. I felt the metal hull under my feet vibrate as he took a step toward me, I bit at the inside of my cheek, fingers losing control of the torch, “I need a new one . . . I just . . shit!” the torch fell in a rain of sparks, my arm jerking away in pain, pain through my shoulders, through my whole body. I felt Carth. Felt him. The Force. I hated it. I hated these new senses. Like they wanted to dominated me, all of me, making whatever was me some irrelevant factor, just a vessel. I shut them out, I pushed all the senses away, forced them away with all the violent thoughts I could, to stop filling my head with things it suddenly made me aware of. Like the ship’s inner operations, every screw, bolt, or wire, or the thoughts of my crew mates, their dreams, or of the man standing so close to me I could touch him but he felt so close already in my head. I pushed away the thoughts, feelings, not wanting to see the patterns and shapes that Bastilla swore was the future. My future wasn’t written, I had yelled at her, at the girl Jedi, she thought she knew so much more than me. She didn’t have this in her skull. She couldn’t. Fuck her training.
“Careful there,” Carth said, reaching for the torch as I brought my burned hand to my mouth.
“Shit,” I mumbled, my whole arm shaking. I gripped my elbow with my good hand, trying to make it go away.
Carth turned off the torch with careful and sure movements. I hadn’t looked at him once. But the Force, the all powerful Force, kept a vision of him in my head. I could feel the frown on his face. I could feel the concern, the worry about me, about how I’d affect the mission. I felt how he was actually feeling pain from my pain. I felt his clothes, their folds over his tall worn body, I felt the scars marring his skin, I felt the color of his eyes, I felt the blood rushing through his veins, I felt the cells-I grabbed my head, regardless of the burn on my hand, gasping as the sensations overcame me in a dark tide. I was getting swept farther and farther from myself, I couldn’t recognize anything, I couldn’t keep a grasp on what was real, what my fingers could touch, what my eyes saw. It was all slipping away from me. I was slipping. But suddenly I felt something hold me up. Someone. Carth, he had his hands on my shoulders, keeping me steady.
“Skye,” he said my name over and over. That’s not my name, I felt part of me desperately saying, but didn’t understand. “Come on buddy, stay with me,”
I heard his voice and suddenly my open eyes came to focus on his face, on the dim lines between the edge of his face and the surrounding hull of the Hawk. On the warm colors that I saw, not felt, and the eyes that saw but didn’t consume me. I focused. Focused. Focused on what I could see. His hands were tight on my arms. I took several deep breathes.
“I got it,” I said, my own hands rose to steady myself on his arms.
“You sure?” he asked.
I kept my eyes on his face. On the unshaven cheeks, the deep sad eyes, the damp hair falling over his forehead, the line of his nose that must have been broken several times before, the scar just above his upper lip.
“Am I that obviously upset?” I mumbled, not able to speak above a whisper.
“Upset’s not the right word for that, but, yeah, right then it was fairly obvious,” he said, hands moving up and down my arms, “Anything I can do to help?”
“Besides keep me away from all the damn Jedi, not really,” I sighed, more a moan from my aching head, “Man, it felt like they scrambled my brains,”
“Don’t worry,” he said, keeping his eyes level to mine, “I’ve got ya,”
We stood for a few seconds, his eyes shifted, became distant, like he was thinking of something to say. I managed a small smile, to reassure him, hopefully, that I was okay, that I didn’t need his help to stand. But now that he was here, I found myself wanting his help, it wasn’t as easy as I’d thought to shake his arms off, return to my work, and step away from him.
“So we’re still in this together?” I asked. It was the question I’d wanted to ask since we got to Dantooine, “Even with all this Jedi stuff . . . it’s still us right?”
“Yeah,” he said softly, then pressed his lips together in a kind of sideways smile though his eyes were grave, “I can’t say what your destiny is like these Jedi can but I can stick with you till the end. If you need me . . . however I can help, I’ll do what I can . . . ” his words trailed off, those firm, confident words barely making it past his lips as he spoke in a hushed voice. He didn’t say anything else, just looked at me and didn’t look away. My eyes stung with unshed tears. His face grew defensive against the sadness that wasn’t his and he gently brought his hand to my face, the warm palm of his hand against my cool cheek. He moved his hand to stroke my hair, I felt my eyes flutter shut at his touch. I ignored how rough his hand was. Ignored everything but the fact that he was touching me. He’d held my hand in the escape pod as we escaped the doomed Endar Spar, the whole sky falling away from us into the rosy hue of the planet. He`’d sat huddled next to me in the sewers of the Undercity, both holding dirty rifles in our hands to defend ourselves against the mutants lurking in the shadows. He’d hugged me when I came back from the Sith Base, when he saw me, limping, side by side with the Jedi we’d saved, he hugged me.
So why was this any different than those other times? Was it because we were alone? The whole ship was sleeping around us, the hum of the hyperdrive resonating through the dark corridors-the ship’s heartbeat. The warmth of his body was like tendrils wrapping around me, pulling me closer. I told myself to stop. But I had stepped a step closer, just half a step, so we were standing closer than we ever have on purpose. He cast a forlorn gaze at me, like he hadn’t thought I’d stay, and he couldn’t let himself think of the next contingency.
“We don’t know what we’re doing,” he whispered, mouth only inches from mine. I took a breath, the heat of his body overpowering. I started to say something, should have said something as he breathed over my mouth, hand frozen on my cheek. I didn’t think about how it was happening. How the solider and I had ended up in the work room together. I suddenly only wanted one thing. I brought my own hand behind his head, suddenly leaning forward to catch his lips in mine. His mouth opened, a breathe rushing from him as I pushed my tongue past his teeth, his hand sliding down my back to support me. Frantic, wet, engrossing, deep, my feet stumbled backwards till the back of my legs hit the workbench. His lips parted mine, our harsh breathe mingling in the dark ship air, hands gripping each other’s clothes. There were only echoes in the closed room. Everything cold metal except for us. We kissed in a kind of desperate intimacy, maybe we didn’t even know we were doing it, it all happened too fast and it all felt too good. Cold metal behind me, Carth’s warm body in front of me, pressed against me. A moan resonated from the back of my throat, Carth’s hand pulled at my hair, one of my hands made it under his jacket, over warm skin-
Suddenly we jumped apart like there’d been blaster fire, “Wait,” he gasped, running a hand over his mouth, “Wait a second,” He had his eyes lowered, not looking at me, biting his lower lip, his tall, seemingly unbreakable body suddenly unraveled, revealed as the human body it was. I felt sick. My stomach turned, almost making me gag. I had both hands over my mouth, “Wait a second,” he repeated, his words falling apart as he said them.
My whole body felt charged, shocked like a poorly made hyperdrive unit. I could taste him on my lips and no matter how may times I ran my hand over my mouth it wouldn’t go away. My friend. Carth. I’d kissed Carth. When I looked up he had shocked eyes fixated on me, I started shaking my head, “I dunno if that was mine or your fault,” I said.
“Well it wasn’t mine,” he retorted, on the edge of his toes, arms straight at his sides.
I paused, trying not to look at him, my eyes fleeting from one corner of the workroom to the other, “I’ve never thought of doing that,” I gasped, “We’re comrades. In this stupid war,”
“Right,” he said, “Okay,” he took a step back, turned his chin up like he was listening for something, “And you haven’t been sleeping.” He made excuses, “And maybe I haven’t been taking this whole Jedi thing as well as I thought,” he took a deep breathe, not looking at me, “I better go,” And he left. I didn’t make a movement to stop him. I only sat back on the workbench, the sudden quiet only emphasizing that I was all alone. Again. I felt miserable, it crept over me in a nauseating rush and I started frantically running my sleeve over my mouth. Tears welled in my eyes, I didn’t want to cry, and tried to hold them back as they stung in my eyes. A shaking breath suddenly escaped my lips and only the hum of the Hawk’s engine continued in the background.
Rating: erm, PG13 I guess.
Pairing: Carth/Revan (in this case his name is Skye, he doesn’t know who he is yet)
Summary: Begins during their escape from Taris, then continues on Dantooine, after making it to the enclave where they both can’t sleep
I heard Carth’s heavy breathing behind me and Mission rearranging her rifle in her arms. I edged my back against the wall, taking shallow breathes as I shifted shaking eyes around the corner. Sweat dripped down the dirt and grime of my forehead, threatening to blind me. I blinked rapidly, the hilt of the blade in my hand slipping in my sweaty palms. I held it upright, hugging it close to my chest. I viewed the corridor, holding my breath. Empty.
“There’s no one there,” I whispered to the man and the Twi’lek behind me, “But-” I took a shaking breathe, raising a hand to wipe the sweat out of my eyes, “ . . . there’s usually someone on sentry . . . a droid could be coming around the corner . . . “ I let the words trail off into the silent hall. Carth was steadying his breathing, like he always did before a battle. It was comforting to know at least one of us knew what we were doing. Mission was still and quiet, a reflection of her childhood, that I was coming to understand was mostly hiding and thievery. Surviving, if nothing else. She was just a kid. It was unfair. But I know she’d hate me to say so.
The found of footsteps, metallic, regular, three droids, sounded down the hallway. I held my hand up, whispering, “On my mark,” Carth leaned forward, breathing in my ear, “You and Mission take the rear droids . . . I’ll take the front,” He uttered a breathy, “yeah,” and I waiting two more seconds, the droid was closer, closer . . . it’d be about six feet, two strides from me.
I tried not to think. Maybe that was the key.
I jumped from my hiding place, Carth followed, leveling his arms as his blasters, one ratty pistol we picked off a Vulkar thug in the Undercity and his own beat-up blaster with a homemade scope and worn taped handle, shot a steady stream of red light, hitting the far droid square in the chest. Nice shooting, I thought with an inward smile, maybe someday I’ll be that good. My blade came down in the wire area between the head and the neck of the droid, the impact shot pain all the way from my arms to my toes but it definitely did some damage. With a grimace I swung the blade to come around to the other side of the droid’s head, ducking away from the droid’s precise, flawless shot that would have gotten me right between the eyes. Sparks flew, I squeezed my eyes shut, one of my hands dropping from my weapon. I brought the blade up in time to parry an attack, metal on metal, against the strength in one arm. Through gritted teeth I saw Mission in the glow of blaster fire, dancing away from the droid’s fire like she was born to it, the heavy rifle nestled in her thin blue arms, hitting her target with an expert eye. I got my blade in both hands again, arranging it to come down between arm and chest, at just the right moment, sending it sinking into the smoking remains of the droid’s inner parts.
Carth had finished his and in one fluid movement he redirected one blaster to help Mission, and with the other he hit my struggling droid in the head, making it drop to the ground along with Missions.
‘Good job, Carth,” I said, he flashed a smile, “You too Mission,”
After kicking the virtual tin can remains of the droid Mission looked up and down the hallway, light on her feet, ready if there were more. “Droids are easy,” she said, letting her arms drop in the ill-fit armor she was wearing over her small body, “Let’s get to the good stuff,”
“Like Davik,” I continued her thought. Carth had fallen silent again, like he often was, as I tugged at my sword buried in the droid’s body. It felt caught in the wires and bolts of the rusted sentry droid, almost to the hilt.
“Looks like you misjudged your own strength,” Carth said, stepping over to me. I grumbled, nodding grimly, a little embarrassed, bracing a foot on the droid’s body, straining. Out of the corner of my eye he reached a bloody hand to grab the hilt of the sword, just below where my hand was, standing for a moment directly behind me. He pulled with the one arm, retrieving the blade with a grunt.
“These don’t grow on trees,” he said, like a joke, though with Carth you knew he was taking most everything serious. Always the realist.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling for the hundredth time since I woke up on the Endar Spar, like I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I was damned if I had any right leading this hopeless team at all. I wasn’t a solider. I was a smuggler. My life before this had been a blur of freighters and quick getaways. Forgettable nights at starbases in nameless cantinas. We dragged the droid remains into the computer room, taking refuge in the small enclosed space, walls covered in blinking lights, metal hot from its operation systems.
“Mission,” I said to her, making her come closer, “Slice into the security system, I have a feeling the hangars near here,” I looked up, sensing the heavy vibrations that could only be a ship, “We need that door open, check out what security they have too,”
“On it,” she said, slinging the heavy weapon behind her back with the makeshift sling I’d made for her. She dove into the computer, fingers a blur. I licked at my lips, blood on my tongue. Clearing my throat, I took position by the door, Carth at the other corner, keeping an eye out. I glanced over at him, running the back of my hand over my forehead. It was so hot in here. He had several wounds, from small burns on his neck and face, from sparks and deflected blaster shots, to a bleeding gash on his right arm, mixing with the orange fabric of his jacket. He didn’t show pain. He kept his face a mask, brow furrowed, mouth set firmly as his hands held his weapons raised and ready. I listened down the hall, glancing into the stretch of metal sheets that made up the haphazard structure, then deciding it was clear stepped over to the man bleeding in the orange jacket.
“Carth,” I said, making him turn his dark eyes to me, away from his task, “Let me dress that,”
“It can wait,” he said, looking away again, like he felt that his eyes were breaches in the wall he had erected around himself.
“It’ll only take a second,” I said, reaching into the bag strapped around my waist, taking out what first aid we had. He squared his shoulders, clearing his throat, then holstered one of his guns, the pistol, and held his arm out somewhat reluctantly. I carefully examined the wound. He stood completely still, showing no signs of pain. When I pulled back the remains of his jacket sleeve, blood flowed freely down his arm, pooling around his elbow. I gritted my teeth, clearing away the scraps of fabric and bits of metal in the mess that was his upper arm.
“Doesn’t this hurt?” I asked him, watching is slow, control breathing.
“No,” he answered right away. His face softened slightly, an action which meant his jaw loosened, his brow relaxed, making the lines in his tough face disappear, “Yes,” he said, “But it’s only on the surface though. I can ignore it,”
I began to wrap the cloth around his arm, my bloody, sore fingers tightening the material around the wound, tighter and tighter, to stop the bleeding. I watched at he showed no sigh it hurt him, he didn’t make a sound. I pulled, making sure not to cut off his circulation, then tied it. He turned his chin to look at me as I finished the knot, smoothing out the bandage with my hands. His warm arm under my fingers, his faint heartbeat, was somehow comforting considering where we were. It was easy to forget there was something alive around so much technology and death.
“How’s that feel?” I asked him, glancing at his eyes, giving a small smile as I straightened up, whipping my hands together to symbolize a job well done.
“Pretty good,” he replied, flexing his shoulder, “For a smuggler,”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I responded, not sure if he disapproved of me being a smuggler, or if he just disproved of me in general. I felt embarrassed under the decorated war hero’s gaze, and I didn’t exactly know why, but before I could look away Mission called my name. Breaking whatever exchange we’d had, me, the stranger that got a little too involved with the Sith and a battle I was never part of and the solider that had gotten caught up in all this Jedi business and despite all the combat he’d seen was way over his head, I fell away from him, taking steps toward Mission.
“Alright,” she said, leaning an elbow on the counsel, “Do I know splicing or do I know splicing,”
“You got it?”
“I could give you Davik’s grocery list if you wanted it,” she laughed, throwing, one of her head tails over her shoulder as she leaned over the computer and pointed at blue screen image of the compound, in a smaller quadrant, the hanger.
“Way to go, Mission,” I said, smiling at her. She reacted like the young girl she was but wouldn’t admit, if her skin wasn’t blue I’m sure she would’ve blushed, then smiled back as I said, “What would I do without you?”
“Probably be rubbing elbows with Davik right now, but not in a good way,” she said, then looked back at the screen, “Okay, basically I shut off the turrets and the systems aboard the Hawk were tied into the hangar computer, with some screwy security measures too. Making this an easy job for this Twi’lek,” she pushed another button, Carth had joined us by the counsel, our faces covered in the blue light, “So all we gotta do is go in and start’er up. Excpet for this--,” she pointed a blue finger at a smaller screen, “Camera’s picked up our very own wish-he-would-take-a-high-dive-off-a-tall-building Calo, and the one and only mobster Davik himself. On the way out.”
“They’re making a break for it,” I said, “We gotta hurry, before Davik flies the coup,”
We moved in front of the door. Mission swung her rifle back in front of her. Carth wielding his blasters. I needed a plan for attack. Two against three was good odds. And we had surprise on our hands. But I knew I was underestimating Calo. And Davik hadn’t become the lord of all the mob on Taris for his bridge playing skills.
“We attack Calo. Ignore Davik,” I said, Carth caught my eye, doubt weighing his gaze, “Calo’s the bigger threat,” I whispered.
“I don’t think we can leave Davik open,” he said.
“So we throw a grenade at the bastard before he can try something slimy,” Mission said, “How many we got,”
“Not many,” I said, “I’m gonna stay melle. Carth, you and Mission concentrate your fire on Calo. He’s got shields, I know it, but they only get you so far. I’m going to take Davik down as fast as I can-”
“Whoa,” Carth interrupted me, back against the opposite wall, facing me and Mission, “You think playing hero’s the best idea right now. We need that ship. We need off Taris.”
“I know that,” I said, “You guys better plan for grenades, I want everyone to scatter as soon as we enter, fan out, don’t stick to one spot too long . . . come on,” I said, flashing him a wide grin, “Davik a geezer. I can take him,”
“Skye,” he said, leveling me with a more experienced, probably smarter gaze. I felt my resolve loosen, my shoulders were shaking a little. He was the better solider. I was a fake. A coward. An idiot. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t know where I belonged. He kept talking to me though. “I got your back,” he was saying, “Don’t do anything stupid. I know your not stupid,” I looked away from him, his voice full of authority, “Mission,” he continued, “Throw the first grenade, make it a concussion, I’ll take the right, you go left. Fire at the rafters.”
“What?” she asked, large eyes wide, “You are crazy,”
“The Sith are bombing this whole planet. We just need the ship,”
“Fine,” I said, “Fine. But I’m still going melle. At least it’ll throw them off guard. What kinda idiot runs into blaster fire,” I joked.
“Okay . . . what’s the plan?” Mission asked in a panicked voice.
“Stay behind me,” Carth insisted, “I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” she retorted, “I’m not gonna stay behind you! I’m no wimp!
“Mission . . .” I tried.
“Do as I say,” Carth said, his voice louder, his whole body shaking with energy, “Let Skye take frontal attack. You and I take the whole god damn ceiling down. We get the ship. We’re outta here.” He looked at both me and Mission. I glared at him. I was the leader. It was my call. Not his. “Got it?” he demanded. Mission almost stuck her tongue out at him, but rummaged through her bag for the grenade. I nodded, standing at the ready.
“Let’s hope this goes better than the plan,” Mission said, fingers flying over the door controls. The door shot open. I scanned the hanger quickly. Saw them. Took off at a run. They reacted in surprise. Not only were they getting hijacked they were in the middle of a Sith induced earthquake. They had their blasters raised. Calo was throwing a grenade. Well, we’d predicted that much right, I thought though it was little assurance.
“Skye!” Carth yelled at me, ‘Not yet! What are you-“ blaster fire roared in my ears, Calo’s grenade shook the ground under my feet. I went down, rolled, was up in a flash, right toward the wrinkly bastard Davik. Why not yet, I wondered, then suddenly a flash that made everything white knocked me down, the waves swimming through my body, swirling, twisting, making my muscles turn into jelly. I struggled on the ground, screaming at my muscles, get up, get up, but they felt heavy, weak, my head spun, my vision was gone. I was temporarily blind. Of course, Mission’s grenade. She’d thrown it before she could see what an idiot I was being.
I was almost on my knees. Keep going. Get a foot under you. My leg wouldn’t work, my foot kept slipping, my knee kept giving in. I was almost there, ghost, grey images starting to become clear in my watery eyes, my ears assaulted by Mission and Carth’s attack when I felt what I guessed, falling backwards, head smacking the floor, was a boot, hit me square in the jaw.
He laughed, “If it’s not my newest employee,” he sneered, “Not wearing any protection again those dizzy bombs are we?” I glared at the blurry shape standing over me, baring my teeth, “Having a hard time standing, huh?” he asked, his boot hitting me again. I bit my tongue, blood filled my mouth. I kept scrambling, trying to get up. GET UP! I saw the shapes move, it looked like . . .it looked like he was going to-I dodged, my feet came up under me, strength coming out of no where, my blade twirled in my hand, arched, came down on the back of that moron’s neck. Blood splattered. He went down hard, tried getting back up. I almost heard the crashing of the rafters falling behind me. I yanked at the thin white hair over Davik’s head, my eyes watering from the grenade, my vision almost back to normal. I held my blade up to his gasping throat.
“Skye! We got the green light! Let’s go!” I heard. A dark shape. Carth, came skidding up next to me. I saw blue and knew it was Mission. They’d handled everything while I made a fool of myself. Davik struggled under my grip.
“Just one more second,” I hissed, but as I was about to slit his dirty throat Carth grabbed my arm in an iron grip, dragging me to my feet. I struggled in the other man’s painful grip, pulling away but he practically picked me up, across the ground, up the ramp. He threw me against the wall of the ship, taking off to the controls.
I felt my knees give out again. I slumped to the ground, trying to steady myself on the metal hull, my head spinning. I drew one hand up to the pain in my temple, the other curled around my stomach as I started to heave uncontrollably. Nothing came up. I hadn’t eaten in too long. I tried focusing my eyes, dirty, grimy fingers braced against the wall. I fought my way to my feet, almost falling again when the ship lurched off the hanger floor. My shoulder slammed into the wall, I stumbled down the hall. To where they were. Carth saw me.
“Strap yourself in,” he ordered me. Mission was already in the other seat. She brought her eyes to mine, holding tight to her chair, her whole world shaking around us, searching for my eyes. I couldn’t focus them yet though and my stomach was till doing flip flops. She was scared. I clasped in the chair. The world fell away from me. Whether it was the grenade, or the exhaustion of not having slept in days, of being in fight after fight with Sith or mutants or droids, I fell unconscious, clasped in the flight chair, gone to the world that was being bombarded out of orbit, gone from my frantic mind, my wounded body, my new friends, and from Bastilla, the girl Jedi only saying, “If things were different . . .”
I had a strange dream. It was dark and endless. But familiar, I thought as I stared down at the blood stained deck. Why is this familiar? My gloved hands were under me, I raised my head upward, realizing there were no walls around me. No, they were clear, clear into space. A battle raged beyond the confines of my ship. But it wasn’t part of the plan. That bastard betrayed me. Left me to her. I saw the feet, small, careful feet, standing over me. My vision was distorted but that was because I was wearing a mask. Blood filled my mask, making me gag, dripping from my nose, my mouth, choking me. I heard myself laughing. The only reason I wasn’t dead, why I was laying on the floor, looking at those dainty feet, was because of the fool Jedi religion. I was laughing. I craned my neck upward, saw that face, that face I’d never forget because I swore to do everything in my power to kill her. Whether I was dead or alive, in this life or the next, I’d remember that face and she’d never be able to hide from me, no matter how much she believed in her magic, my magic, she would regret this. My breath sputtered in my mask . . . she said my name . . . her lightsaber glowed . . .
“Skye!”
My eyes snapped open. I shot up in bed. Not a bed . . . just a cot. I looked at my hands, they were bare. I took a breathe, felt the cool, thin air of a space ship fill my lungs. No blood, no blood around my nose, dripping down my throat . . . no . . . no . . .I focused my eyes and saw who’d said my name.
Carth.
Carth. The past weeks event came back to me suddenly, while everything else, the dream, faded. I felt my chest heaving. “Oh god,” I shuddered, running a both hands through my damp hair, bringing my knees up.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just a dream,” I said, trying not to let it show I was shaking. We were the Ebon Hawk, in the crew quarters, the only light shining from the computer counsels. Carth was sitting across from me, on a similar cot, a sleeping Mission lying at his side, her head resting on his chest. It took a moment but I brought my tear filled eyes to him. He held a protective but gentle arm around the sleeping Twi’lek, his injured arm limp in his lap, face calm despite the dirt and blood acting as shadows in the gloom of the ship.
“How is she?” I asked.
“Not so good,” he responded, lowering his eyes to her, taking a careful breathe so he didn’t wake her, his hair, dirty and damp falling over his face, “She watched her home get destroyed before her eyes. Gone . . . just like that,” he looked back up at me, brow knitted slightly, “We barely had enough time to pick the others up but we made it out . . . how are you feeling? You took that pretty hard,”
“I dunno what happened,” I whispered, looking again at my hands and getting the weirdest feeling . . . like they didn’t belong to `me, “I’m sorry,” I rubbed at my eyes, brushing tears away, rubbing my tongue around my mouth and tasting blood, “I shoulda listened to you,”
He smiled slightly, looked down at Mission, like he was remembering something. Damned if I could ever guess what was going through his head, “This has been an extremely hard week. I’m willing to cut you some slack . . . even if you are a no good-smuggler,” he smiled at me. I didn’t know if he could see my expression in the dark, but I was glad, relieved, he didn’t hate me for screwing up. I sat up, leaning back against the wall, my head protesting slightly.
“Hold on-where’s Bastilla?” I asked suddenly, “Where-” I looked in the far corner, sitting cross-legged, meditating, was her. I relaxed, breathing out, “Thank god,” I whispered, “That was the whole point of this suicide mission anyway . . . Is she-“ I jerked my thumb over at Bastilla.
“Yeah, she’s alright,” Carth answered, “Just doin her Jedi thing . . . I guess it’s like sleeping . . . I stayed awake, to watch over you guys,” he carefully rearranged his legs, crossing them in front of him. In the dim light I saw him grimace when his arm was jolted from where it rested, “You were out for a long time,”
“Well, I’m about 72 hours late on a good nights sleep,” I let my head fall back on the hull. I tried to take slow breathes, even, in control, my eyes falling shut cautiously as if the dream would start again if I closed them for too long, “But you are too then,”
He didn’t say anything right away, I listened to his breathing, the hum of the hyperdrive, the various beeps of the computer, not able to get the taste of blood out of my mouth, no matter how much I swallowed.
“There were times . . . “ he began in a quiet voice, “During the war . . . that I wouldn’t sleep for days . . . I think the longest was seven days . . . surviving off of stimulants . . . in a waking dream,” I heard him almost sigh, holding it in his chest like it was a luxury, then start talking again in a careful way, “But I know none of this is a dream,”
I thought about his words, “No it’s not,” I responded, “How . . .how did we get involved in this? I’m not a Jedi,”
“And I am?” he almost laughed, “I don’t even know if I believe in all that . . . Force or no Force, things happen . . . and I’m never strong enough to stop them,”
“You saved my ass back there,” I said, “I was out of it . . .” I exhaled, “I was gonna . . . I almost killed him,”
“I’ve never abandoned someone on a mission before. It’s part of my training,”
I looked at him. What he’d said seemed out of place, not just because this was so different than any mission I was sure he’d ever been on but because I thought he was my friend, not just a number. We’d spent almost every waking moment together. Not that there was a lot of time to get to know each other. But while he kept all of his pain, whatever had happened to him, hidden, I felt like I was an open book for everyone to see.
Just then ship’s sensors informed us we were approaching Dantooine.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
We all walked wearily off the ship, all except Bastilla, who all but ran across the courtyard to a Twi’lek coming out the shelter of a surrounding building, holding his hands over his ears against the roar of the Hawk’s engine.
“Zar!” Bastilla called, then stopped, breathless in front of him, fixing her hair.
“You’ve made it safely,” I heard him say, then saw him glance over the girl’s Jedi at me as me and my companions came to a halt behind her, “And you’ve brought visitors,” his eyebrows raised in a surprised expression. I looked over to see Canderous giving the alien an impatient glare, “Who are these people? I’m sure you wouldn’t endanger the enclave young Bastilla by bringing any enemies of the Republic here,”
My mouth dropped open and I glanced from the Twi’lek to Bastilla, waiting to hear her arrogant retort at such a demeaning question. Instead she leveled her small chin and said, “They can be trusted, Master,” then she looked at me in particular and I felt Zar’s eyes on me too, “I must speak to the Council,”
“Of course,” the Jedi said, taking a breathe, looking at me through half lidded eyes, then looked out over the whole group, “You can relax, enjoy any services we have to offer, we’ll be with you shortly,” And he and Bastilla turned and walked away at a brisk pace.
“So that’s what a real Jedi looked like,” Mission said once they were a good distance away.
“I guess,” I said, eyes still wide. I can’t deny I was impressed. More than that, he was unbelievable, everything you’d think a Jedi would be. His posture, his robes . . . he was so calm. T3 made a few loud beeps, his gears whirring as he turned to face me, “You don’t have to convince me,” I agreed with him.
“Alright, we ditched the Princess, can we go now?” Canderous asked in a growl.
I turned to him with a shrug, “As far as I know we’ll be staying here a while, Canderous,”
“Let’s hope they have the continental breakfast,” Carth commented, then put a hand on my shoulder, “Who’s hungry?”
Everyone rose their hand, even Canderous. “Until they wanna talk to me, let’s get some food and some rest,” I said with a sigh. I wondered what they wanted, yeah, but I was also too hungry to think straight. I walked alongside the tired solider, our elbows bumping every now and then, letting the already homesick Twi’lek hold my hand, having made it finally to where the Jedi were.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I tried to act like I was absorbed with the workbench. I tried to move sore and bloodied hands steadily over repairs, always repairs, but nothing was ever fixed. My eyelids fluttered shut several times the way eyes do when they haven’t known enough sleep, when everything outside your head became large and foreboding and you want only darkness, like a cave. But the trouble was every time I closed my eyes, every time I let go of the threads keeping the basic bodily movements going I felt something creep in, something that scared me. I was afraid to admit it. Afraid to admit I was scared. Lately it was like I was two people, all in the same head, and whoever they were, if they were me or not, they were fighting all the time. And my dreams were their battlefields. My battlefield.
It doesn’t make sense to start perceiving yourself as another person now Skye, I told myself, a tool slipping from my hands with a clatter. I fumbled after it, swearing under my breath. So what was it? What was there, damn it, what was there in my head with me? I felt myself biting my lip, harder and harder, the pain a diversion. I banged at the metal of the beaten vibroblade, bringing the hammer down with more strength than I would have thought I’d had. I felt anger and I liked it. I like the feeling that burned in my chest, burning away everything into ash and cinder, nothing else. Not a trace.
I heard someone behind me, making me turn on a heel, hammer in one hand, focusing my bleary vision, realizing I hadn’t been blinking, on the form of a man, straight, tall, steady. Carth. Those were all things he was. I grimaced as I tried to make my mouth form words, to get my teeth to stop gritting against each other, but couldn’t. I went back to work. He’d say something if he wanted. I let the hilt clatter to the top of the workbench, or what was left of it.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No,” I managed, not separating my jaws. I felt my heart rate increase. I felt it beat against my ribcage, like it would break its way through. I wanted to breathe through my mouth, to get more air but I couldn’t.
“Mind not keeping all us up then?” Carth asserted.
The torch in my hand flared, “I’m almost done,” I muttered, hand starting to shake. I felt the metal hull under my feet vibrate as he took a step toward me, I bit at the inside of my cheek, fingers losing control of the torch, “I need a new one . . . I just . . shit!” the torch fell in a rain of sparks, my arm jerking away in pain, pain through my shoulders, through my whole body. I felt Carth. Felt him. The Force. I hated it. I hated these new senses. Like they wanted to dominated me, all of me, making whatever was me some irrelevant factor, just a vessel. I shut them out, I pushed all the senses away, forced them away with all the violent thoughts I could, to stop filling my head with things it suddenly made me aware of. Like the ship’s inner operations, every screw, bolt, or wire, or the thoughts of my crew mates, their dreams, or of the man standing so close to me I could touch him but he felt so close already in my head. I pushed away the thoughts, feelings, not wanting to see the patterns and shapes that Bastilla swore was the future. My future wasn’t written, I had yelled at her, at the girl Jedi, she thought she knew so much more than me. She didn’t have this in her skull. She couldn’t. Fuck her training.
“Careful there,” Carth said, reaching for the torch as I brought my burned hand to my mouth.
“Shit,” I mumbled, my whole arm shaking. I gripped my elbow with my good hand, trying to make it go away.
Carth turned off the torch with careful and sure movements. I hadn’t looked at him once. But the Force, the all powerful Force, kept a vision of him in my head. I could feel the frown on his face. I could feel the concern, the worry about me, about how I’d affect the mission. I felt how he was actually feeling pain from my pain. I felt his clothes, their folds over his tall worn body, I felt the scars marring his skin, I felt the color of his eyes, I felt the blood rushing through his veins, I felt the cells-I grabbed my head, regardless of the burn on my hand, gasping as the sensations overcame me in a dark tide. I was getting swept farther and farther from myself, I couldn’t recognize anything, I couldn’t keep a grasp on what was real, what my fingers could touch, what my eyes saw. It was all slipping away from me. I was slipping. But suddenly I felt something hold me up. Someone. Carth, he had his hands on my shoulders, keeping me steady.
“Skye,” he said my name over and over. That’s not my name, I felt part of me desperately saying, but didn’t understand. “Come on buddy, stay with me,”
I heard his voice and suddenly my open eyes came to focus on his face, on the dim lines between the edge of his face and the surrounding hull of the Hawk. On the warm colors that I saw, not felt, and the eyes that saw but didn’t consume me. I focused. Focused. Focused on what I could see. His hands were tight on my arms. I took several deep breathes.
“I got it,” I said, my own hands rose to steady myself on his arms.
“You sure?” he asked.
I kept my eyes on his face. On the unshaven cheeks, the deep sad eyes, the damp hair falling over his forehead, the line of his nose that must have been broken several times before, the scar just above his upper lip.
“Am I that obviously upset?” I mumbled, not able to speak above a whisper.
“Upset’s not the right word for that, but, yeah, right then it was fairly obvious,” he said, hands moving up and down my arms, “Anything I can do to help?”
“Besides keep me away from all the damn Jedi, not really,” I sighed, more a moan from my aching head, “Man, it felt like they scrambled my brains,”
“Don’t worry,” he said, keeping his eyes level to mine, “I’ve got ya,”
We stood for a few seconds, his eyes shifted, became distant, like he was thinking of something to say. I managed a small smile, to reassure him, hopefully, that I was okay, that I didn’t need his help to stand. But now that he was here, I found myself wanting his help, it wasn’t as easy as I’d thought to shake his arms off, return to my work, and step away from him.
“So we’re still in this together?” I asked. It was the question I’d wanted to ask since we got to Dantooine, “Even with all this Jedi stuff . . . it’s still us right?”
“Yeah,” he said softly, then pressed his lips together in a kind of sideways smile though his eyes were grave, “I can’t say what your destiny is like these Jedi can but I can stick with you till the end. If you need me . . . however I can help, I’ll do what I can . . . ” his words trailed off, those firm, confident words barely making it past his lips as he spoke in a hushed voice. He didn’t say anything else, just looked at me and didn’t look away. My eyes stung with unshed tears. His face grew defensive against the sadness that wasn’t his and he gently brought his hand to my face, the warm palm of his hand against my cool cheek. He moved his hand to stroke my hair, I felt my eyes flutter shut at his touch. I ignored how rough his hand was. Ignored everything but the fact that he was touching me. He’d held my hand in the escape pod as we escaped the doomed Endar Spar, the whole sky falling away from us into the rosy hue of the planet. He`’d sat huddled next to me in the sewers of the Undercity, both holding dirty rifles in our hands to defend ourselves against the mutants lurking in the shadows. He’d hugged me when I came back from the Sith Base, when he saw me, limping, side by side with the Jedi we’d saved, he hugged me.
So why was this any different than those other times? Was it because we were alone? The whole ship was sleeping around us, the hum of the hyperdrive resonating through the dark corridors-the ship’s heartbeat. The warmth of his body was like tendrils wrapping around me, pulling me closer. I told myself to stop. But I had stepped a step closer, just half a step, so we were standing closer than we ever have on purpose. He cast a forlorn gaze at me, like he hadn’t thought I’d stay, and he couldn’t let himself think of the next contingency.
“We don’t know what we’re doing,” he whispered, mouth only inches from mine. I took a breath, the heat of his body overpowering. I started to say something, should have said something as he breathed over my mouth, hand frozen on my cheek. I didn’t think about how it was happening. How the solider and I had ended up in the work room together. I suddenly only wanted one thing. I brought my own hand behind his head, suddenly leaning forward to catch his lips in mine. His mouth opened, a breathe rushing from him as I pushed my tongue past his teeth, his hand sliding down my back to support me. Frantic, wet, engrossing, deep, my feet stumbled backwards till the back of my legs hit the workbench. His lips parted mine, our harsh breathe mingling in the dark ship air, hands gripping each other’s clothes. There were only echoes in the closed room. Everything cold metal except for us. We kissed in a kind of desperate intimacy, maybe we didn’t even know we were doing it, it all happened too fast and it all felt too good. Cold metal behind me, Carth’s warm body in front of me, pressed against me. A moan resonated from the back of my throat, Carth’s hand pulled at my hair, one of my hands made it under his jacket, over warm skin-
Suddenly we jumped apart like there’d been blaster fire, “Wait,” he gasped, running a hand over his mouth, “Wait a second,” He had his eyes lowered, not looking at me, biting his lower lip, his tall, seemingly unbreakable body suddenly unraveled, revealed as the human body it was. I felt sick. My stomach turned, almost making me gag. I had both hands over my mouth, “Wait a second,” he repeated, his words falling apart as he said them.
My whole body felt charged, shocked like a poorly made hyperdrive unit. I could taste him on my lips and no matter how may times I ran my hand over my mouth it wouldn’t go away. My friend. Carth. I’d kissed Carth. When I looked up he had shocked eyes fixated on me, I started shaking my head, “I dunno if that was mine or your fault,” I said.
“Well it wasn’t mine,” he retorted, on the edge of his toes, arms straight at his sides.
I paused, trying not to look at him, my eyes fleeting from one corner of the workroom to the other, “I’ve never thought of doing that,” I gasped, “We’re comrades. In this stupid war,”
“Right,” he said, “Okay,” he took a step back, turned his chin up like he was listening for something, “And you haven’t been sleeping.” He made excuses, “And maybe I haven’t been taking this whole Jedi thing as well as I thought,” he took a deep breathe, not looking at me, “I better go,” And he left. I didn’t make a movement to stop him. I only sat back on the workbench, the sudden quiet only emphasizing that I was all alone. Again. I felt miserable, it crept over me in a nauseating rush and I started frantically running my sleeve over my mouth. Tears welled in my eyes, I didn’t want to cry, and tried to hold them back as they stung in my eyes. A shaking breath suddenly escaped my lips and only the hum of the Hawk’s engine continued in the background.