Believer ◊ Star Wars [2]

chapter three; boom? boom

"So he's all good, right? No more clunky bacta suit?"

Kalonia nodded her head, her focus not completely dedicated to Mara's concerned expression as the med wing brimmed with a chaotic energy, carts of supplies being rolled through the single door they happened to stand right next to and the chatter of nurses diagnosing those wounded from the battle. The doctor's gaze briefly averted to the bleeding Hybolon behind the woman, but hastily confirmed, "If he's walking, then he shouldn't need the suit anymore. Any damage done to his spine should be healed. I'm so sorry, but if you could excuse me-"

"Yeah, yeah." Mara moved out of Harter's way and she bolted to her next patient. The blonde backed away as another doctor ushered her to the side and rolled a cot past her, back touching against the wall as she surveyed the crowded room. She sighted Poe at the side an injured pilot, whom he gave a reassuring pat on the shoulder before his eyes searched for Estoni. When he looked her way, she bobbed her head towards the door and stepped past two frenzied mechanics out into the hall.

Dameron joined her in the corridor a moment later, repaired jacket in hand, "How's he doing?"

"Doc says he's all good to go." She relayed as the two headed back towards the room she'd guided Finn too for a fresh change of clothes. The commander had left the pair to check up on his pilots after the mission as per standard procedure while Mara recounted the last days' events to her very confused friend, "Still disoriented. I don't know if he remembers anything we said to him while he was out."

"He knows Rey-"

"Is with Skywalker." It was the first question she answered when Finn kept searching the ship for her, "I tried to give a rundown on what's happened since Starkiller to get him up to speed."

"That's good, that's good." Poe hurriedly repeated, nearly missing the correct door if she hadn't reached out to pull him back. He spun towards her and let out a tense breath of a chuckle at the mistake.

Mara knew how pilots looked after tough runs. She didn't want to dwell on the knot in her own gut or the growing migraine, but one look at him and she knew she wasn't the only one who's head hadn't left the fight. Creased forehead. Two fingers tapping the side of his leg. Leftover adrenaline. Dameron only met her prying eyes once, then darted to look at the locking mechanism that had suddenly become interesting.

"How's the squadron looking?" The honest question grounded him back into a conversation and Mara had been too preoccupied by Finn's sudden awakening to even glance at what remained of their fighter pilots.

Poe let out a strained exhale, "A little less good."

The hanger being short-shipped was an indication of that enough. Now Mara had time to collect herself, remember the flashes of what actually happened while she was in the cockpit, and know that the Resistance's plan of attack had cost them every available bomber. She was still shaken, but her concerns wouldn't die in her throat.