Afterglow | The Clone Wars

Death Trap

Narrator: "Calm before the storm! A rare and welcome respite from endless battle awaits Jedi Knight Dakota Ky and Mace Windu as they travel through deep space aboard the Jedi Cruiser Endurance. Preparing to rendezvous with a Republic frigate, the Jedi remain unaware of a deadly peril lying hidden in their midst."

💫

Collectively, she'd done ten pushups, which was two more than she did last week. Progress.

Laying flat on her stomach, her cheek pressed to the mat. She stared at the grey wall, catching her breath and allowing her muscles to recover from the workout. Her shoulders burned, but not as bad. Beneath her copper skin, muscles worked to remember how to perform that which was once as easy as flowing water.

Time had passed since the initial injuries, with days bleeding into monotonous weeks. Hours spent on physical therapy got her to where she was now. Almost back to one hundred percent, whatever that truly looked like.

Laboriously, she propped herself up onto her elbows and pushed up, tucking her legs beneath her before rising back to her feet. What met her was a window displaying the intricate blue streaks of hyperspace. Stars blurred together into flickering lines, dancing across her countenance as she dabbed a sweat towel to her neck.

The emptiness of the cruiser's training room offered a quiet space for her to become lost in her own thoughts, which, depending on the topic of mental discussion, could either be a good or bad thing.

Nearby was a full length mirror, often used for gym occupants who wanted to check their form or simply admire their physique. Indeed, she wanted to check her body out, but not out of vanity. To simply see.

As she approached it, she unzipped the front of her uniform just enough to see the straps of her black tank top beneath. With that, came the beginning of her skin and body.

It was smaller than what it was weeks ago. Normally, she's firm and strong— a warrior, as she so often likes to forget. Natural muscle from lightsaber combat and training, coupled with hours on her feet on the field. 

Now, with the council's choice to keep her back at the Temple for rest and rehabilitation, she had grown smaller. If such a thing were possible. Muscle mass faded to factory setting. Biceps and triceps, chest and torso caved in on itself, all in a matter of weeks. Hours spent meditating strengthened the mind, not the body.

That's why she was up as early as she was, trying to work back to the skin that she had spent a lifetime living in.

She pulled the zipper down an inch more, her torso now exposed to the air of the training room. Her gaze traveled down to her stomach where her ribs poked through, and her belly button. Food had been anything but appetizing. Lack of movement had started to make her sluggish, and too lazy to eat. Today, she'd change that. Breakfast would soon be available, and wanted to get something, anything.

Down more was the torso wound from the Citadel, the bandage now a simple med patch. No pain patches, no medicine. A protective patch, to keep the material of her Jedi uniform from scratching against the hardening scab. Her breathing didn't irritate it anymore. Movement hardly fazed it. Sitting and standing felt normal again. She was glad for that.

The zipper dropped another inch, closer to—

'Another scar. Significant. Extends from one hip to bone the other.'  The medical droids tone resurfaced. Her fingers tightened on the zipper, the descend halting.