Jedi don't form attachments. At least, they're not supposed to. But Obi-Wan's newly appointed Padawan, Y/N, seems to have fallen into the strangest sort of love with Captain Rex.
As the apprentice struggles to navigate their inner turmoil with the d...
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Where- Where am I?
I am in a daze, reaching to grasp something that is not quite there--so close yet so immeasurably distant. But what is it? My dignity? The vestiges of my pride? The fear that I'll never make a true difference in the face of this war? No. No, this isn't fear. This is something... quite a shade darker. It is borne of fear.
Hatred. I feel the twisted hands grasp mine in an attempt to drag me further into the nightmare. The barest ghost of my father flits past; the hands grip tighter and I see yellow eyes glinting before mine. They are shrewd, wry, and awaiting my decision. I decide... I decide to wake up. I won't let this happen. Not tonight.
You were torn from your sleep, gasping for breath, clutching at the walls and trying to steady yourself. Pain tore through your lungs as you spluttered up water, and you felt a hand on your ribcage pumping it down to force more water out. It was very, very unpleasant, to say the least--an almost burning feeling. You didn't quite register much beyond that you felt infinitely colder than before. Finally you could breathe normally. You started to get up before a hand on your shoulder sharply pushed you back down. "Woah there, hold on," he said.
You blinked a few times, finally seeming to come to your senses. A clone medic was gazing back at you intently--most likely checking your condition. "You fully awake now?" he said. "Good.. Good," he murmured again, looking away and absentmindedly stroking his chin. "Don't worry about the others, I'll brief you on what happened."
The room you were in was large and dimly lit, and you could see a wide doorway leading out into another vast corridor. Small blue lanterns hung here and there on the icy grey walls, and the occasional Pantorans crossed the hallway. The atmosphere was considerably clearer here; the frosty air felt cool on your burned lungs.
The medic looked back at you. "My name's Kix. You broke through a rotten spot on the ice while we were crossing it. Got quite the bout of hypothermia, you did."
You spoke, and your voice was hoarse with those little icicles digging into your throat. "Ah- um, I'll be fine, right? It's- I can still keep going, this isn't going to leave any lasting injury, right?"
A crease formed beside his mouth in a sort of grimace. "Well, for the most part, no. However I cannot advise that you go on any missions until you rest up for a week. You have fractured legs and a ribcage; your lungs are severely damaged from the water and your body temperature is disastrously low. Ah-" he put a finger up before you could say anything. "And don't tell me that you need to go, you need to save the world, everything depends on you, et cetera et cetera. I, as a medic, outrank you in this case and therefore order you to stay. Put," he finished, almost a little proudly.
You rubbed your head tiredly and your eyes narrowed a little at him. Coherent thoughts came together and fell apart in a rush, but nothing formed worth saying aloud. "Alright," you said gruffly and some surprise passed over Kix's face, as though he hadn't expected you to concede so soon.
