A Seam Within the Galaxy • Kylo Ren

Ch.22

Slow, melodic beeps sing through the space around me, waking me gently. Dim lighting peaks through my lashes as I allow it in, gradually letting my eyes adjust to see the glass dome over my head, taking in my surroundings as my body shivers from the chilled air: the infirmary.

The deep breath of air I take in is effortless, my lungs expanding and retracting with ease. My body has miraculously been stitched up from the wounds I had gathered on Rodia, a vast amount of cords and tubes attached to my arms and abdomen. I recall what I had done for Commander Ren, my last few moments before my consciousness had been swept away remaining too hazy to look back on. My eyes open a bit wider.

Was he alright? Did this work? Had what I done proven to be useful, or had I only put the two of us in an even bigger predicament than the one we were already in? Lifting the glass dome from above my head, I heard the beeps stemming from the machine I was connected to begin to speed up in pace, matching alongside of my heart that had gained speed by the mere thought of him. I sit up and feel the tug of tubes against my skin, pulling each individual wire off and unsticking them from my skin. Carefully, I snaked out the tubes that had been filling my body up with a slurry of vitamins and other medications impertinent toward my recovery.

Standing to my feet proves to be more difficult than I had anticipated, the weight of my body a bit much for my ankles to support. I felt as if I were healed, but what lingered was comparative to laying under a bed of bricks for several hours, taking my strength and stamina away from me. The force around me is in its normal state, but I still lack the connection to the Commander, fizzed out and weak. It doesn't fill me up and excite me like it once could, stirring up a malcontent mood inside of me. I needed to see him. I pull the dull and gray medical gown closer to my body as the blast doors open, revealing a 3z3 med droid that walks rigidly into the room.

"Commandant, it would be most beneficial to your state if you would remain—"

"I wish to be discharged, regardless of your input." I interject rather irritatedly, searching around for something to change into. "You sustained several blast wounds to your abdomen, as well as a multitude of lacerations and secondary dermal lesions. You—"

"I don't need your input. Would you like a formal written letter explaining this?" I snapped as I pulled off the med gown, standing naked before the droid. I scowl, slowly removing my gaze as I carefully pulled my head through a fresh and clean, long sleeved shirt. I leaned my backside against the edge of the bed, pulling my legs through a soft pair of pants, throwing a pair of socks over my feet that had begun to grow cold.

"You died, Commandant."

I halted my movements, staring at my scuffed up boots as I had begun to put them on. I flexed my jaw, digging my nails into the sheets of the bed as my eyes searched for something before me I was unsure could be found. "How long was I gone." I impose as more of a comment than a question, finding it tough to believe I had escaped death yet again, feeling undeserving of this life, as so many different things unable to work out for me.

"Our Commander didn't comment how long; he kept you somewhat stable upon your journey back to the Death Star on his own."

I suck my lips in, my tongue rolling over them and fighting off a smile. Had I felt thankful for what he had done, or furious toward the conditions that were still set over each other's acquaintance, both seemed likely. Due to the lack of a connection between us, I assumed there was still work to be done.

"Where is he now?" I requested, trying not to give away how interested I had suddenly become in him, snapping out of my stupor and fastening my boots to my feet. I compelled myself to blink a few times, making absolutely sure this was the present and not some fabricated dream my mind had conjured up due to the strain force healing Commander Ren had taken out of me.