ARCHIVED TWHLAY I:XXIII
ARCHIVED
The Way He Looks at You Series
Act 1: The Way He Looks at You
Chapter 23: The Way He Saves You
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Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series
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Everything hurts and I’m laying on my back, unable to move more than my right arm. My ears are ringing and I can’t see anything through the clouds of dust. I cough weakly and struggle to clear my lungs, since something heavy is crushing them.
Extending my free hand towards the weight laying on my body, I attempt to Force push the object away. It barely moves and I drop my arm, struggling to understand my surroundings.
My hand lands on a metal cylinder, and my fingers wrap around it on instinct. One of my lightsabers, I was dueling and then, an explosion? I remember hearing them in the distance. Someone must have detonated something nearby.
The memories of earlier events flood back as the dust settles and I can see the space that used to be a room. I whip my head around quickly, trying to see the others. There’s no one, only piles of what used to be the ceiling.
Panic fills my mind as I realize she’s likely trapped as well, or maybe dead. She can’t be dead. I can’t survive if she is dead. I struggle under the weight of the debris, desperate to escape and find her before she suffocates.
Placing my lightsaber on the ruined floor, I Force push again. The enormous chunk of the ceiling shifts a bit and I squirm under it, trying to get leverage for my escape.
“Are you okay?” I shout out into the area. I know I spoke, but I can barely hear my voice. Taking a slow breath, I try again, but I still can’t hear myself. Did I lose my ability to speak? Was a lung punctured and I’m being kept alive by the rubble? Unable to lose blood with all the additional weight?
I try yelling at the top of my lungs and immediately fall into a fit of coughs. Realizing I pushed my voice too hard, I remain trapped longer while I try to steady my breathing.
It’s not my voice that’s the problem. I can’t hear. The ringing in my ears had tried to tell me, but I had ignored it. I reach up to touch my right ear and pull back to see blood on my fingertips; the explosion blew out my eardrums.
I throw my hand back down towards the crushing weight and Force push again and again. The process is painful and slow moving. Terrifying thoughts creep in, getting to her too late, finding her crushed body with no life in it.
She was everything to me; she was going to be a mother to my child. I don’t care what the Jedi said about sensing his child in her. He’s wrong. I could sense it was my baby in there, not his. If she’s dead, so is my legacy. My future, my family, my solace in this cruel galaxy is all gone with her.
I throw my hand down again, fueled by the rage of losing the only good thing to come my way. I grit my teeth and yell through them. The debris suddenly lifts and flies ten feet from me, finally free.
Scrambling to my feet, I grab, connect, and clip my lightsaber to my belt. I run towards where I last saw her; she was in the corner before the explosion. But I slip and fall forward, catching myself before smashing my face into the unforgiving terrain.
Looking down to identify what caused my foot to slide out from under me, I see a lightsaber. The Jedi’s. I glance at the pile of rubble that lies on top of where he must be, grateful that one good thing came from this tragedy.
I stand and begin using the Force to lift pieces of rubble from the corner and toss them behind me. The corner of the room still stands, but the ceiling caved in on it. I don’t dare climb onto the debris for fear of adding more weight to the pile.
I finally make a path and I can see her arm; the sight causes me to work more quickly. Moving forward to dig her out with my own hands. I use all of my strength to free her body. She’s laying on her side, blood running down her face. A deep cut near her temple is the source.
I reach out to touch her, begging the Force to keep her alive. When my fingers brush her skin, I feel her warmth and exhale a sigh of relief. She’s alive.
I finish freeing her and scoop her limp body into my arms. Her head lulls against my chest, and I can feel her blood soaking through the fabric of my uniform. My heart beats hard, and there’s a lump in my throat from the fear of losing her to blood loss.
I have to get her out of here, to the Medical Wing on Coruscant. I want to run towards my ship, but the damage to the building makes it impossible. Carefully picking my path through the area, ensuring that I don’t risk slipping and hurting her further.
Her slow and shallow breathing makes me nervous, its as if her body is giving up. I won’t allow it. She won’t die, not from this.
Guilt eats at me. It’s my fault she’s barely hanging on. If I had only taken her back home when I found her. But I was selfish and allowed my own desires to guide me. I was so eager to have her again that I didn’t consider the possibility of the danger she was in.
It’s my fault, I’m responsible for her suffering. She didn’t deserve this. It should be me that bleeds out instead. I would do anything to take the pain away and suffer in her stead. It was stupid to not prioritize her and her safety. I will never allow it again.
Once I’m out of the destroyed area, I jog the rest of the way towards the ship. I keep her held tight, trying not to jostle her too much as I move. Boarding faster than ever, I hold her unconscious body in my arms and I pilot the ship up into the sky.
I have never flown with such efficiency, but I’ve never had a reason. Transporting prisoners or even myself was hardly worth the extra effort. But holding this woman and watching her slip away terrifies me. I won’t allow any time to catch up and take her.
We land at the loading bay for the Medical Wing and I rush her inside. I am quickly greeted by several of the staff and a cot. I place her down gently as the team asks what happened and what injuries are present.
“Explosion. The ceiling caved in, she was trapped under it. Her head was cut, I don’t know what else.” I word vomit as much information as I can to them.
They take her further into the building and I try to follow, but a stern woman places a hand on my chest, stopping me.
“You can’t go with her.” She evenly says.
“Of course I can! Do you know who I am?” I bark back and try to push past her again.
She sidesteps to block my path, and I consider cutting her down. “I know exactly who you are, which is why you can’t go back there. Do you think physicians will work confidently with an Inquisitor breathing down their neck?”
Taking a breath, and finally look at the woman. “I suppose not. I understand. But you will assign someone whose sole responsibility is to provide updates to me. I will not be leaving.” I huff.
“Wonderful that you are staying.” She says dryly. “I need you to provide information about the patient. Come with me.”
I bite my tongue and follow the woman into a small waiting room. She asks questions and scribbles my answers on a clipboard. Mostly requesting information about the incident and nature of the injuries. I am frustrated from already answering these same questions, but she assures me they want to be thorough. I mention the pregnancy and struggle my way through the follow-up questions.
“Last question. What is the patient’s name?” She glances up at me over her clipboard.
“I don’t, she doesn’t-” I try to explain.
The woman gives me an unimpressed look and I feel my face flush.
“I don’t need the entire name. I can do first, last, nickname, anything you know.” She purses her lips.
“Uh, surname, just-” I take a sharp inhale. “Her surname is Kestis.”
She writes it down and stands to leave. “I’ll ensure someone keeps you updated.”
I wait impatiently, my entire leg bouncing while I sit. An hour goes by and I can’t stay seated any longer. I pace the room, dwelling on every mistake I made that caused the only light in my life to be so severely hurt. She is my light; she has been reminding me of the man I once was. The man who lived by the Light Side, a man I can no longer fully embrace.
Perhaps the Dark Side will always consume me, but she provides a way back. A candle on a dark night, a guiding beam, a light, my Light, my Little Light.
A physician finally enters the room. He looks tired and white as a ghost, his hands shake, clearly nervous to have to deliver news to an Inquisitor. I realize that his fear may tell me everything I already need to know. My heart drops. She’s dead.
“Thirteenth Brother, we have done all we can. I’m not sure when she’ll wake up but-” He starts.
“She’s alive?” I shout in surprise.
“Yes.” The man says slowly. “She’s alive, they all are.”
“Her and the baby?” I interject again.
“Babies.” He says, his eyes wide.
My eyes grow to match his and we stare at each other for a moment.
“Babies. As in more than one?” My mouth feels dry.
“Two.” He responds, trying to gage my reaction.
My mouth hangs open as I process the news. She’s alive and there are two babies. Neither I nor the Jedi were wrong. We each have created life with her.
“They’re all okay? Healthy?” I ask.
“The babies are healthy, the pregnancy is still new and everything inside the womb is as it should be.” The physician explains. “However, Ms. Kestis is in a coma. The fetuses will continue to grow and we will keep her taking the proper nutrients to ensure they stay healthy.”
“When will she wake up?” I demand.
The physician flinches. “I don’t know. The head injuries sustained were sizable. It could be anywhere from a couple days to…” He trails off, implying the unknown.
My stomach drops and I have to clench my jaw to avoid showing too much sadness. Instead, setting my face to its usual glare. “Take me to her.”
The man bows his head and gestures for me to follow. I am led into a sterile room and hesitate in the entryway when I see her laying there. She’s beautiful still, but covered in bruises and minor cuts. A large bandage covers the injury on her temple, a symbol of my failure.
I am left alone in the room and I move to sit by her bedside. Gently grasping her smaller hand in mine, I give it a light squeeze. She doesn’t respond, though I hopefully study her face, waiting to see her eyes open.
Tears prick my eyes as I sit, realizing that I am responsible for another lost life. Even if she isn’t dead, she may never wake up, and the galaxy would be worse for it. I have caused too much loss. Usually the hate prevents me from caring, but I love her.
My mind punishes me with memories of lives destroyed in my hands. Countless people with no discrimination on age, gender, or race. Grief floods veins and my heart aches at the memories. The worst one comes back. I loved once before, but she lost her life because of me. Taken from me to turn me towards the Dark Side.
I try to push the painful thoughts away, but as I stare at another victim, I can only blame myself. I have caused so much damage simply be being a part of the galaxy. If I had never existed, maybe more people would have lived. My life, in exchange for hundreds.
A single tear falls down my cheek and I glance up at the door while holding my breath. I wipe the tear away, surprised by its appearance. Leaping to my feet, I understand I can linger no longer. I can’t risk being seen caring for someone so vulnerable. It only puts a further target on her head, and I won’t take the risk.
I have much work to do; I need to prepare my quarters to house my new family. Modifications are necessary to accommodate the two new residents. As I walk out of the room, I see a neatly folded pile of black clothing and a satchel laid on top. Still mostly covered in dust, but cleaner that before.
I shake off as much of the filth as I can before folding and returning the clothing. In case she wakes up, I want her to have something to wear. Peeking inside the satchel, I see loose and broken tech scattered throughout. I’ll need to get the reader fixed before she wakes, so I take the satchel with me as I exit. Sparing only a small glance in her direction before taking my leave.
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