WriteHaven

The nearly seventeen year old padawan stirred, the dreams were so surreal. It was as if little tiny insects were injected into his arm and crawled all throughout his body and into his brain where they started hammering stakes in to cement themselves. He took a deep breath in and instantly sat up as his eyes shot open. The abrupt movement was not advisble, he looked down at this chest and saw the medical leads entering his hospital gown and heard the elevating beeping of the machine. His face was drenched in sweat, in fact the entire bed was. A thought passed through his mind about being a baby again and the potential for wetting the bed, he brushed that aside immediately as it was clear that it was sweat. His eyes darted from side to side and pain returned to the hundreds of cuts that had been appropriately healed, but the nerve endings still sent fire to his brain. Falling through the plate glass window was not advisable, but it was indeed what saved his life, he was just lucky that none of the glass shards found anything more vital. Note to self, next time force crush the damn window.

The fight was over but the moments still lingered in his mind, what had he done right, what had he done wrong? That was a conversation the young Jedi would have with himself over and over again for quite awhile. He began to analyze the fight, what led up to the Sith's lightsaber severing his arm what happened wh...DERRY!

The Padawan immediately ripped the leads from his chest much to the protest of medical droids as he swung his legs over the bed and immediately stood up. Whoa. Dizzy...he used the force to center himself and made his way out of his room and found the room Derry was in. He entered and saw the red haired Padawan whom was his best friend safely asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief and the droids started to usher him out of the room as Derry's wound had been somewhat more serious than any of Arty's, but he wouldn't leave the room without imparting a thought, a thought that he knew Derry would be happy to hear.

("Not bad for a linguist...seriously, you did good dude. Rest well.")

As he was ushered back to bed by the medical droids despite his protest he had another thought. Qiana! KRIFF! She was in labor and he wasn't there. Uggh! He let the droids tuck him in but refused to let them attach the leads as he ripped the sensors from his chest.

"If I was going to die you di'kuts I'd have done it already, I don't need them, they feel weird and I just want to sleep."

The droids scurried off, Arty wasn't exactly sure what the insult meant, but he heard Derry use it a number of times, especially when mocking...him. Was he really a di'kut?! Did it matter? You don't even know what it means.....di'kut. He smirked. Once again he swung his legs over the bed after several minutes, but this time...pants a hospital gown would simply not do and he could noo let Qiana see him like that. Why was it necessary for people to not be wearing anything under a hospital gown anyway? That was kind of stupid the more he thought about it, what if the hospital had to be evacuated and you have a bunch of 90% naked patients running and being pushed out of the hospital? What if the hospital was on Hoth? That wouldn't end well.

PANTS!

He looked around and found a fresh set robes folded neatly on a chair by his bed. He stood he put both legs in and pulled them up under his gown, no use in giving the cameras a free show, force that would be embarassing. He could just picture the clones sitting their laughing and making fun of him as soldiers do in the friendliest brothers in arms manner. Then he'd force push them because Jedi...in an equally friendly manner. He took his gown off exposing his torso and that's when he first really noticed it, his robotic forearm. He held it up and stared at the bare metal exposed fingers, he touched each finger to wear his palm would normally be, the servos and various machinery making quiet noises. He smirked, this was kind of cool actually. In tact this was really cool. Could he make adjustments to it? He totally needed the schematic, he was going to sit and tinker with this arm until he knew it inside and out after...Qiana.

He grabbed his cloak, frogetting the tunic for now and put it on over his torso, the cool thing about Jedi robes is that they sort of functioned like a bathrobe in pinch anway, nice and comfy without getting all the way dressed. The young man made his way to the maternity ward and that's when he saw him in one of those plastic thingys that newborns sometimes go into. What were they for anyway? Another question for Erril, but he was sure it was precationary more than anything given the trauma of the day. He walked over and saw the pinkish...boy....laying there asleep. He saw the name on the chamber read Julian and his heart melted at the sight of this newborn child for whome he felt instant love, there were small stands of purple hair adorning the child's head, he looked so peaceful. Arty's stomach was a whirlwind of butterflies as heplaced both hands against the plastic, longing to hold the child. He stood there for many minutes just staring at him, finally a droid approached him and asked if he was the father.

"NO! I mean...not technically, but...I'd kind of like to be? Yeah. I would like to be."

The droid lectured him about how this area was for medical staff and parents only and moved him towards the door. He then found Qiana's room, she was asleep as well, her day had been equally difficult for different reasons, but he decided he was going to bother her. He walked in and pulled a chair up next to her bed and bent down to kiss her hand, he then wrapped his fingers around hers and smiled at her as she stirred.

"He's beautiful Qi...you did so well."

She smiled wearily at the Jedi whom she had come to rely on over the past many months, the Jedi whom she had come to? She wasn't sure, but Arty was as his eyes met hers. He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Qi...I love you."

That was the moment, he had finally said it and she had heard it, to depth of her being she couldn't understand why. it went against her genetic makeup entirely, but she felt bonded to him and only him. She smiled at him and repeated the words. His heart melted and he inched closer and embraced her for a moment before returning to his seet and lightly stroking her hand.

"It's been a long day....but a good one."

Raw black-purple lightning exploded from Sith to Jedi for the third time. Derry ‘pulled’ on the energy, catching it into the pure white beam of his lightsaber yet again. But Adrian had adapted too this time. The Darkside energy shot out from the young Sith, targeted directly at the beaten-metal hilt in the Padawan’s grasp. The white blade deactivated. Derry’s burned hands almost dropped it. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew the shape his fingers needed to— Darkside energy spat violently out from the Sith— The Lorrdian Jedi Sentinel felt the Scream detonating in his face, deafening every perception. Derry couldn’t tell whether the sound waves were physical or blasting directly in his mind. He felt everything but couldn’t discern anything in that instant— Adrian snarled and lunged across the last gap between them with his arm raised, wicked knife reflecting early Coruscant sunlight on the way toward— Derry’s shock-numbed hand tightened around his lightsaber hilt, changing the angle. Adrian’s weight slammed into him, pushing them both down. Wicked pain stabbed down into his shoulder and he knew the hilt struck bone. The back of the young Jedi’s skull thudded onto the pavement. A pained sound uttered from Derry’s mouth. His burned fingers thumbed clumsily towards the activation plate on his hilt. The white beam sprang to life, but the green-eyed Jedi didn’t see the blade from his angle. He fought through the blurring vision enough, and then there was only the Sith youth’s face inches from his.

Derry watched Adrian’s eyes widen. Somehow the young linguist's thoughts flowed in a stream of Cheunh, though he lacked the breath in his lungs or the presence of mind to try communicating them in words or telepathy. He could only meet Adrian's stare and wait with him.

(I'm sorry. But I'm relieved. I wish this hadn't… I'll tell them goodbye for you. The Force be… Why did you have to do this? Adrian. Peace… I'm here though.)

The Sith’s red eyes faded to mortal colors. The pair of them became a blue-eyed youth pinning a green-eyed one to the ground, laying on pavement in an abandoned cityblock alley. The blue eyes died. The green-eyed adolescent deactivated his lightsaber blade. Derry managed to roll Adrian off of him onto the duracrete, but that was as far as he could manage yet. Curling his left arm up across his chest, he pressed his numbed fingers half-effectively against either side of the black knife blade biting into his collarbone. He stared up at distant speedercraft whizzing overhead in the pale Coruscant sky. Spasms of pain and nausea told him to be still. Derry screwed his eyes closed and breathed, calming himself before he vomited and lost the ability to be still. Concerns about possible poisons ran through his mind, but he doubted that a few extra moments were going to make much of a difference now. He couldn't see what he was dealing with. He was a linguist; not a healer. It would have to wait for the others. Thinking about red eyes fading to blue in front of his face, the young Jedi breathed and reflected.

* * *

Words.... Arty grabbing his hand and bleeding on his face... Derry managed a half-funny quip about that, or so he felt like... Master Aero... his Master's Master. They'd need to tell Svo'k... and Alex and Johnathon.... A few questions from the troopers... but mostly calm... Master Aero... They went to the service outreach... It was the closest... It made sense..

Regarding his burned hands, Derry formed a significantly increased appreciation for bacta.

More voices. Speaking Basic, mostly. But also Lylia. Which healer had tended his shoulder again? Did one come, or was it one of the other physicians? Either was fine, though he expected someone must have. Derry couldn't actually remember; the day itself had become that blurry.

* * *

(Not bad for a linguist...seriously, you did good dude. Rest well.)


* * *

It was evening by the time lucidity and consciousness touched his mind at the same time again. Derry played Arty's comment back in his mind and smiled.

His Master was talking softly with her master. Aero made his way out, letting Derry and Lylia sit together for a while.

The linguist and his Master spoke in Cheunh mostly, as had been their custom for years now. Tonight of all nights, Derry felt struck how grateful he was for the grace and privacy that habit afforded them. He almost have told Lylia as much, but it wasn't a new thought and something subtle in the red of her eyes told him that she already understood. Then after he'd thought about it for a while, he told her anyway.

* * *

Derry knew he was physically fine enough by the time a medic came to clear him, but they went through the motions anyway.

* * *

It was after dinner by the time Derry had washed, dressed, and found his way to Arty's room. Not that Arty was actually inside it anymore.

The Lorrdian Padawan was directed to Qiana's recovery room a short time after that. He felt mildly awkward, but not so much that it stopped him from knocking quietly on the door that was slightly ajar. The freckled seventeen year old stepped into the room once that seemed the appropriate thing to do, and... Derry found himself politely avoiding grinning for the time being.

"Good evening," he said in quiet Basic after a moment, realizing the presence of the sleeping infant. "You must be Qiana. I'm Derry. Congratulations, and I'm glad to meet you... I came to bother Arty, but I can do that any time if you'd rather."

Arty stood up quickly...that was a bad idea! KRIFFING OWWWWWWW! He winced in pain and put his new robotic finger in front of his mouth to shush Derry, whom he was happy to see....but Julian had just gotten off to sleep and he didn't want to wake the dude. He still ached literally all over, the cuts were mostly healed thanks to the healers and the bacta, but there was some faint scarring from the bigger pieces of glass, they probably wouldn't last which was good, but for a young Guardian, sometimes scars were sort of like a badge of honor....but then there was the robotic hand. Oh yeah. That was a badge of honor alright. He brought his hand down and flexed it several times, the tiny servos making a quiet noise, his attention moved to that for a second, the electrical connections to his nervous system and brain were done correctly but it was a new sensation and it was just utterly fascinating how much it actually tingled. They wanted to put on some synthetic flesh, but he stopped them, this was so much cooler. He wondered if he could adjust so that....DERRY.

His eyes wandered back up to his best friend and roommate who had explained that he had come to bother him, Qiana was right over there in bed cuddling the sleeping Julian, both needed their rest and even though she smiled and reacted to Derry, he wasn't sure what Derry thought, he knew that he had told him to talk to Erril about the situation, but that wasn't going to kriffing happen anytime soon. For one how do you explain to your master that there is this girl that is pregnant that you're dating but you didn't have anything to do with her being pregnant. Now she's given birth to a half human and you still have to maintain that you didn't sleep with her. That was just too complicated and a can that he was more than content to kick down the road for a little bit. Burying problems deep down and ignoring them hoping they don't hurt you later was definitely the Jedi way....

He looked at his friend and whispered

"So the little guy is Julian and you're uncle Derry now, at least to him, because we're brothers."

He grinned at Derry and put his robotic arm hand on his shoulder.

"The next time you suggest going for a run..."

He tapped his robotic fingers on Derry's shoulder.

"I'm going to hit you below the belt with my new arm....glad you're okay though."