[SW Fanfiction] You do or You Don't [1/2]
Title: You do or You Don't
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Barriss, Ahsoka -no pairings here
Warnings: Mentions of blood and two females showering together, but nothing explicit; mild spoilers for S2 of The Clone Wars.
Disclaimer: Don't own Star Wars; title from the Lindsey Buckingham song of the same name.
Summary: Ahsoka and Barriss get cleaned up together after a battle. For my hc_bingo wildcard space.
"Ahsoka?"
The ship's door slides closed quietly behind Barriss, sealing the quarters that lack of space forces she and Ahsoka to share on the way back to Coruscant from a brutal battle just inside of the Outer Rim.
Ahsoka is sitting in her sleep-cot, head ducked to avoid hitting the ceiling of the low compartment. Her hand is folded across her abdomen, and in the dark chamber -the lights are all out- she can't see the expression on her friend's face. "Did you realize you're covered in blood?"
"Yes, it crossed my mind." An occupational hazard, of course; she was the closest thing to a trained healer that they had on-board the ship, even with Masters Unduli and Skywalker. Spending two hours carefully maneuvering shrapnel around arteries and muscle with her mind was bound to result in some blood spilling onto her, but she was too tired to say so. "It's awfully dark in here. Did I wake you?"
"No. I just wanted it dim." She notices that Ahsoka's arm hasn't left moved from where it was clutched around her torso. "How long ago did you arrive back here?"
"Not long. Anakin took his sweet time briefing the Council; I don't know why I had to be there for all of it. He and Luminara could have done it without me."
"Master Unduli," she absentmindedly corrects out of habit. "What's wrong?"
Ahsoka starts, and even in the darkness, something about her looks decidedly guilty. Barriss doesn't even need the Force to show she that, which is good, because she feels weak and disconnected from it, a result of spending so long immersed entirely in its power. "Nothing."
"Is that a med-kit?" It is, of course; she could recognize it from a great distance after all the time that she has spent around it; identifying it in the cramped space is no difficulty at all. "Why aren't you in the med-bay?"
Ahsoka reluctantly drops her arm from her side, letting the wrapper from a bacta-patch fall listlessly onto the floor. "They're swamped down there, and it isn't that bad."
"It's bad enough so that you hid it from Master Skywalker. I doubt you'd go through all that trouble for a tiny scratch." The accusation in her voice is clear, but she doesn't mind. Ahsoka deserves it. Crouching by her side, Barriss reaches out and presses a switch. Weak, buzzing lights fill the room, and the sound they make as the power courses through the translucent tubes is enough to give her a headache after hearing it for a few seconds; she can understand why Ahsoka wanted it off.
The waterproof bandage was applied well, especially for a job done so hastily in the dark, but it doesn't entirely cover the long, dark gash that crosses over Ahsoka's side, and it certainly doesn't affect the dried blood stained around it. "How did you manage to hide this from the Masters?" she asks. How Ahsoka got it is more important -there's too much blood for it to have been a blaster wound- but every now and then her curiosity takes over.
"It wasn't hard. They were both distracted -you know, with the war that's going on and all- and I didn't think it was bleeding that hard." Ahsoka shrugs, then winces. "It was just shielding after that. And wearing my cloak." Indeed, she can see the discarded brown material tossed over in the corner, and knows that it's probably stained with blood.
"It was a mistake," she adds wryly, gesturing to the injury. She clearly knows Barriss well enough to anticipate what the next question was going to be. "I was running after one of the droids -one of the advanced ones; I don't even know if they have a class yet, but it was retreating, which was definitely new- and I tripped and pierced my side on something. It isn't deep."
No, she can tell that from sight, and also that it doesn't cross any major veins. It is wide, though, and likely extremely painful, even for a Jedi. "You should be fine with a bacta patch for now, as long as you let a healer look at it when we get back to Coruscant. Or at least let me see it tomorrow, when I have the energy to do a more thorough exam." She yawns, punctuating her words, and notices the dried blood on her hands. She'd managed to ignore the feeling as it slowly congealed, even through Ahsoka's observations, but now that she's seen it again she can feel it, sticky against her clammy skin.
That draws her back to Ahsoka. "You look as bad as me, at least." A nod to the injury. "You need to wash that out."
"You need to get washed too. You're worse-off than me." Ahsoka slides off of her bunk and stands; Barriss stretches up with her. "You go first."
"No, you go. You're at least as bad as I am." She, at least, was able to step into one of the decontamination chambers before entering the med-bay and got the dirt and sweat of battle taken off of her. Ahsoka hasn't even had that small luxury yet.
"Barriss..."
"Ahsoka..." she glares back, defiant. Always put others before one's self is an important maxim to follow for a Jedi, and doubly so for a Jedi Healer, or one in training. She'll stick by it to the end.
"This is silly. Let's just do it together." Ahsoka roles her eyes and makes her way towards the small 'fresher adjacent to their quarters. "Come on," she snaps, noticing Barriss' reluctance. "I've chased you down when you had worms in your brain; I've been trapped under a collapsing droid factory with you, and you're too modest to take a quick shower with me to save time rinsing the blood off of you? That doesn't make any sense. You're being too..." she wrinkles her nose, searching for the word. "Prudish, I suppose. Too proper, as always."
"I'm not 'too proper!'" she snaps back. That's one of the few things that Ahsoka can say to really get to her. Proper is proper; she is when it matters, and it almost always does. "You want to do this? Fine." She steps past Ahsoka into the tiny room and presses a button to activate the lights. "Are you with me or not?" Too proper for you now? is what she really wants to say, but she manages to hold her tongue.
Ahsoka grins and steps around her. "I am."
Part two:
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Barriss, Ahsoka -no pairings here
Warnings: Mentions of blood and two females showering together, but nothing explicit; mild spoilers for S2 of The Clone Wars.
Disclaimer: Don't own Star Wars; title from the Lindsey Buckingham song of the same name.
Summary: Ahsoka and Barriss get cleaned up together after a battle. For my hc_bingo wildcard space.
"Ahsoka?"
The ship's door slides closed quietly behind Barriss, sealing the quarters that lack of space forces she and Ahsoka to share on the way back to Coruscant from a brutal battle just inside of the Outer Rim.
Ahsoka is sitting in her sleep-cot, head ducked to avoid hitting the ceiling of the low compartment. Her hand is folded across her abdomen, and in the dark chamber -the lights are all out- she can't see the expression on her friend's face. "Did you realize you're covered in blood?"
"Yes, it crossed my mind." An occupational hazard, of course; she was the closest thing to a trained healer that they had on-board the ship, even with Masters Unduli and Skywalker. Spending two hours carefully maneuvering shrapnel around arteries and muscle with her mind was bound to result in some blood spilling onto her, but she was too tired to say so. "It's awfully dark in here. Did I wake you?"
"No. I just wanted it dim." She notices that Ahsoka's arm hasn't left moved from where it was clutched around her torso. "How long ago did you arrive back here?"
"Not long. Anakin took his sweet time briefing the Council; I don't know why I had to be there for all of it. He and Luminara could have done it without me."
"Master Unduli," she absentmindedly corrects out of habit. "What's wrong?"
Ahsoka starts, and even in the darkness, something about her looks decidedly guilty. Barriss doesn't even need the Force to show she that, which is good, because she feels weak and disconnected from it, a result of spending so long immersed entirely in its power. "Nothing."
"Is that a med-kit?" It is, of course; she could recognize it from a great distance after all the time that she has spent around it; identifying it in the cramped space is no difficulty at all. "Why aren't you in the med-bay?"
Ahsoka reluctantly drops her arm from her side, letting the wrapper from a bacta-patch fall listlessly onto the floor. "They're swamped down there, and it isn't that bad."
"It's bad enough so that you hid it from Master Skywalker. I doubt you'd go through all that trouble for a tiny scratch." The accusation in her voice is clear, but she doesn't mind. Ahsoka deserves it. Crouching by her side, Barriss reaches out and presses a switch. Weak, buzzing lights fill the room, and the sound they make as the power courses through the translucent tubes is enough to give her a headache after hearing it for a few seconds; she can understand why Ahsoka wanted it off.
The waterproof bandage was applied well, especially for a job done so hastily in the dark, but it doesn't entirely cover the long, dark gash that crosses over Ahsoka's side, and it certainly doesn't affect the dried blood stained around it. "How did you manage to hide this from the Masters?" she asks. How Ahsoka got it is more important -there's too much blood for it to have been a blaster wound- but every now and then her curiosity takes over.
"It wasn't hard. They were both distracted -you know, with the war that's going on and all- and I didn't think it was bleeding that hard." Ahsoka shrugs, then winces. "It was just shielding after that. And wearing my cloak." Indeed, she can see the discarded brown material tossed over in the corner, and knows that it's probably stained with blood.
"It was a mistake," she adds wryly, gesturing to the injury. She clearly knows Barriss well enough to anticipate what the next question was going to be. "I was running after one of the droids -one of the advanced ones; I don't even know if they have a class yet, but it was retreating, which was definitely new- and I tripped and pierced my side on something. It isn't deep."
No, she can tell that from sight, and also that it doesn't cross any major veins. It is wide, though, and likely extremely painful, even for a Jedi. "You should be fine with a bacta patch for now, as long as you let a healer look at it when we get back to Coruscant. Or at least let me see it tomorrow, when I have the energy to do a more thorough exam." She yawns, punctuating her words, and notices the dried blood on her hands. She'd managed to ignore the feeling as it slowly congealed, even through Ahsoka's observations, but now that she's seen it again she can feel it, sticky against her clammy skin.
That draws her back to Ahsoka. "You look as bad as me, at least." A nod to the injury. "You need to wash that out."
"You need to get washed too. You're worse-off than me." Ahsoka slides off of her bunk and stands; Barriss stretches up with her. "You go first."
"No, you go. You're at least as bad as I am." She, at least, was able to step into one of the decontamination chambers before entering the med-bay and got the dirt and sweat of battle taken off of her. Ahsoka hasn't even had that small luxury yet.
"Barriss..."
"Ahsoka..." she glares back, defiant. Always put others before one's self is an important maxim to follow for a Jedi, and doubly so for a Jedi Healer, or one in training. She'll stick by it to the end.
"This is silly. Let's just do it together." Ahsoka roles her eyes and makes her way towards the small 'fresher adjacent to their quarters. "Come on," she snaps, noticing Barriss' reluctance. "I've chased you down when you had worms in your brain; I've been trapped under a collapsing droid factory with you, and you're too modest to take a quick shower with me to save time rinsing the blood off of you? That doesn't make any sense. You're being too..." she wrinkles her nose, searching for the word. "Prudish, I suppose. Too proper, as always."
"I'm not 'too proper!'" she snaps back. That's one of the few things that Ahsoka can say to really get to her. Proper is proper; she is when it matters, and it almost always does. "You want to do this? Fine." She steps past Ahsoka into the tiny room and presses a button to activate the lights. "Are you with me or not?" Too proper for you now? is what she really wants to say, but she manages to hold her tongue.
Ahsoka grins and steps around her. "I am."
Part two: