Purge (Star Wars)

Part 4: Balance: Aftermath

With the ship safely in hyperspace, Cal helps Ilyana to the engine room and sits her on his bunk. Despite the healing fluid of the stims coursing through her she can still feel an echo of the electricity arcing through her raw nerves, leaving her unable to stop shaking. Cal drapes a blanket around her and sits quietly next to her until the shaking eases enough that she's finally able to speak.

"Cal," she says with some effort, "I need you to promise me something."

"Yeah, what is it?" he asks.

"If that ever happens again, if they capture me again, don't come for me."

"What!?" he asks with surprise.

"Cal, you're a Jedi," she says, her voice exhausted, "one of the last. Your existence is important to the galaxy. I'm not. Please, don't risk yourself for me again."

"How can you ask me that?"

"You and this crew are the first things I've cared about in...well, as long as I can remember. If any of you get hurt or killed because of me...I...just don't. Please?"

Cal rests his forehead in his hand for a moment then slowly brushes his hair back as he thinks. Ilyana knows the request is painful for him. He cares about others, about his friends. It is against his nature to not help. But he has respected and supported her decisions in the past even when he disagreed with them and she is certain he will agree now. And when he does, she will have done everything in her power to keep him and his crew safe.

Finally, he turns back to her and shakes his head, "No."

"What!?" she asks, unable to hide the surprise from voice.

"No," he repeats, "I can't promise that."

"But Cal I..."

"I don't know about the rest of the galaxy but you're important to me. I won't just leave you behind."

"You don't understand," she begins again, "I..." She hesitates, not wanting to tell him what happened in the marketplace. Disappointing him like that would be unbearable, not after he had stood up for her with Cere, not after he had put his trust in her.

"I used the Dark Side," she finally admits, "I was desperate and for a moment... I enjoyed it."

"For a moment?" Cal asks noting the choice of words, "And after that moment?"

"I was disgusted," she says, looking down at her hand. "I know what I was. I know what that makes me. I saw it in the way the Defenders looked at me...they were terrified."

"Do you intend to keep following the Dark Side?" Cal asks.

"No, but I don't know how to get away from it."

"You already have."

"What?"

"You made a mistake. We all make mistakes. It's how we choose to go forward that matters."

She turns to him, unable to hide her confusion.

"Why aren't you angry with me or at least disappointed?"

"Um, because I'm not," he says hesitantly, unsure how to answer that question.

"I don't understand how you're like this?"

"Like what?" Cal asks, truly confused at this point.

Ilyana sighs heavily. "You are so kind and understanding and forgiving..." she says, grasping at the air in frustration as if she could snatch the words out of the air and throw them at him.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It's infuriating!" she exclaims, raising her voice more out of exasperation than of anger.

Cal tries to hold back but he is unable to not laugh at how much it seems to annoy her.

"I did exactly what you told me not to do," she continues, "Just be angry with me."

"No," he repeats, "I'm not angry."

She lets out an exasperated sigh and drops her head into her good hand.

Cal reaches out and takes her hand, interlacing their fingers. At first she turns her head away, annoyed, but for so many years the only physical contact she has had with anyone has been through violence and pain. The small gesture of comfort and safety breaks the tension in her and all she is left with is exhaustion. She lays her head on his shoulder and almost immediately falls to sleep.

Why did they deactivate the floor, the lights? It's so quiet. Ilyana thinks as she slowly wakes, expecting to still be in the detention cell.

She takes a slow, controlled breath to brace herself for what Seventh Sister has planned for her next but when she opens her eyes, the bulkhead across from her is not the design of any Imperial ship she has ever seen. She blinks a few times and the room comes into focus and lets out a sigh of relief at the familiar shapes of the Mantis.

It wasn't a dream. Cal had appeared in the detention cell. They had escaped the cruiser.

She slowly pushes herself up and sets her feet on the floor. Every inch of her body still bears a dull ache from what she endured, all except for her injured arm. That arm is completely numb. She gently cradles it in her other hand and examines it. Someone has wrapped it in bandages from her palm to just above her elbow. One of the crew must have tried treating it as she slept. She thought she had lost it already but it is still there, even if it is barely recognizable. Something about the shape of it is wrong and an odd smell comes from it. It must be infected. She will most likely lose it soon.

She looks up from her arm and around the room and realizes she is on Cal's bunk in the upper level of the engine room rather than her cot below. She must have fallen asleep there.

How long had the Inquisitors kept me awake? How long was I on their ship? She leans back against the wall and rests there a moment, watching the blinking lights of the little displays on the walls and listening to the familiar, comforting hum of the engine. Suddenly she becomes aware of the feeling that she is being watched. She turns quickly to the doorway and catches sight of a very small person as they hide behind the far side of the doorway.

"Hello," she says softly. Slowly a Tholothian girl peeks around the doorway and Ilyana smiles at her the best she can.

"You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm not going to hurt you," Ilyana says then realizes how she must look covered in blood and bruises with her arm mangled and bandaged up, her eyes swollen. "I don't look so good do I?" she asks to which the girl shakes her head.

"Who hurt you?" the girl asks.

"Inquisitors" Ilyana answers.

"The bad people?" asks the girl.

"Yes, the bad people. My name is Ilyana. What's yours?"

The girl steps cautiously around the corner and just barely into the room. "Adia," she answers.

"Hello, Adia. It's good to meet you. Did Cal bring you here?"

"Yes."

"He brought me here too. A while ago."

"He said he would keep us safe. How did the bad people get you?" Adia asks, stepping closer.

"I left. I was trying to help someone."

"Did you?"

"No," Ilyana answers, looking down at her hands, "I don't think I did at all."

The girl walks over and gently takes Ilyana's injured hand. She holds it palm up with one of her hands on either side of Ilyana's wrist then closes her eyes and takes slow, deep breaths. A shiver runs down Ilyana's arm then it begins to tingle. The numbness ebbs away and is replaced by the strangest prickling sensation as though the flesh is stitching itself back together. The feeling slowly dissipates and Adia lets go of her hand. Ilyana removes the bandaging to find that the wound is healed, her finger can move again, and only a thick white scar remains. Ilyana looks up at Adia with surprise.

"Thank you," she says and Adia smiles back at her.