If Times Were Different

[Luka Balmore]

The air was cold, the fans kicked on and his lab coat gently twinged in the gentle breeze of the refrigerated room. The fifteen, now nearly sixteen year old Padawan stood there staring down at a body lying on a table. A single lightsaber wound piercing his chest, his eyes blue just like Luka’s his face seemed to be more at peace than the last time he had seen him. He looked down and found his arm, a few month old scar on his upper arm had started to repair itself nicely. Luka sighed and traced his fingers along the scar, the flesh was cool and lifeless to the touch and it caused him to wince for a moment. He knew the reality of the situation, but the cold feeling of lifeless flesh against his fingertips was a harsh reminder. That scar that was the work of his healing, his careful work to prevent infection and or any real permanent damage. ”Scar or no scar?” He had asked him so confidently. Luka lowered his head and sighed to himself, maybe if they had met sooner, maybe this result would have been different. He shook his head and knew beyond a doubt that as much as the slightly older teen laying dead on the table was to blame, there was another equally to blame if not more so. Luka clenched a fist, not something he was accustomed to doing, anger was never a vice of his, he simply let most things roll off his shoulders and move on with his head held high, but not this, never this. He heard his knuckles crack and his brow narrowed a bit.

“Force…..”

Tears started flowing gently down his cheeks.

“Force have mercy on him please, he never stood a chance….and…and you know that….if you have to punish someone….you know where the blame truly falls.”

He finished his nearly silent prayer and continued standing there for a long moment staring at the lifeless eyes of his half brother whom he had only met six months prior in the most awkward and bizarre of situations. Master Li had remarked about the impact Luka had had on him, there was a faint flicker of hope that was not there before, Adrian….Adrian seemed drawn to Luka and the two had talked since then they were brothers after all and he was indeed a Sith, but Luka had been slowly working on that, slowly planting seeds in his older brother’s mind that he had hoped would take root and drive him away from the life that had been chosen for him. If only he had more time, more time would have worked…another year, maybe even another six months. Luka felt that there was progress being made, or maybe that was jus the deception of a Sith, because then again there was a lifeless body of a totally innocent bystander in the next room, killed by the lifeless hands laying on the table before him. He sighed again and shook his head, Adrian was an enigma, one that would never fully be solved now and it was frustrating. Luka ran a hand through Adrian’s hair and brushed it back from his face. He swallowed hard and wiped the tears from his own face.

“I can’t fix that Lightsaber wound Adrian, Force knows I’d try if I could. Please rest well my brother, I love you….maybe that’s all you ever needed was someone to love you, I wish we’d have met sooner….it’d be different I think….take care please….”

The tears flowed relentlessly and he took the sheet and drew it up over Adrian’s lifeless body. The movement in and of itself was jarring as the body was covered and he let the sheet fall neatly on top of his brother’s corpse. He took the collar of his lab coat and wiped the tears from his face trying to compose himself the best he could before he left the room, it wasn’t professional to show himself in this state to other patients, he had to be stronger than the circumstances dictated he be. He brushed his hair behind his pointed ears and flung his Padawan braid back, he’d need to talk to Karrime, she would help him get through this, death was a natural part of life after all….but not one resulting from a lightsaber blade being shoved into one’s chest. He heard the door open and his senses reached out, his blood ran like ice water through his veins as all grief was replaced by anger. He clenched his teeth and saw HIM standing in the doorway, still a few inches taller, wearing robes that he did not deserve to wear, in fact it should be him lying naked and lifeless on the table covered only by a sheet and not Adrian. The worthless man spoke….

”Luka…I….what are you doing in here?”

The man’s words echoed through his mind and struck a nerve so hard he wondered if he himself had been stabbed for a brief moment.

“Padawan BALMORE if you please PADAWAN Lynd. First names imply familial familiarity or friendship, of which we are neither. What am I doing here?”

Take a breath Luka he’s still a father who lost a son.

“Mourning MY brother.”

Svo’k nodded quietly.

”I….understand. I…didn’t know you two knew each other….I…..wish you had……he was a good son…my first…..”

Luka scrunched his forehead and rolled his eyes as he stared back at the man who dared to call himself a father of any kind. He took a deep breath reminding himself for a moment that he was a Jedi and a pretty good one most of the time so he had been told at least, but these words…these words. I wish you had…had what? Met sooner, yeah so did he, he’d still be alive and Svo’k would not have fully ruined his life. Luka walked deliberately towards the door.

“No you wouldn’t know that would you?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked Svo’k straight into the eyes, the younger Jedi’s pointed ears flared and there was a foreign presence of anger in his aura. He reached out and grabbed Svo’k by the robes and pulled him close.

“You know Padawan Lynd……that should be you over there and I’m sorry Force forgive me for saying it because I know you’re suffering too…but your suffering is deserved. You did this….you brought this on yourself and he was just an innocent bystander in your hedonistic self centered existence. I get that you’re trying to make right and I can respect that, I get that you’re here now….but your past followed you here, where does your path of destruction end? Grieve your son, your Sith son that you made, just stay the hell away from me because your mere presence is making me think very un-Jedi thoughts regarding you.”

Luka pushed Svo’k away with a fair bit of force and walked past him out the door, he sunk both of his hands into the pockets and walked down the hallway and into a refresher. He shut the door behind him and placed both hands on the sink. He stared down into the sink, that was most definitely not his finest moment and he shouldn’t have said any of it, he needed to work on this because that was the singular chink in his Jedi armour, his seething resentment for Svo’k Lynd.

“Great job, you just told a father he caused his son’s death.”

The nearly sixteen year old shook his head and filled the sink with cold water and began splashing it on his face to calm down and to wipe away the tear stains. Calm….peace…..peace….you are a consular, act like it. You are above everything you just said and the way you behaved, you are so much better than that. He nodded, quietly and took a towel and wiped his face dry. He took a deep breath and with the aid of the force he even managed a smile in the mirror.

“Okay onto Derry.”

The young Padawan walked out of the hall and down towards the room that Derry was in. He stopped at the door and looked and saw the older Padawan sitting up in bed, he looked okay. This was good. Slowly Luka walked into the room and smiled at Derry for a moment before grabbing a chair and taking to Derry’s beside. He hadn’t said anything yet, that was so rude, he was friends with Derry and it just wasn’t his day, he was off kilter a bit. He still offered another warm smile to the older Lorridian Padawan.

"You don't look so bad dude. Let me look at your hands."

He lifted Derry's right arm up and gently held it studying the lightning scars, they were truly fascinating in and of themselves and had circumstances been different he would have maybe asked a few more questions about how they felt, maybe probe about nerve endings and see if his sense of touch was in anyway changed along the lines of the scars. This was not a normal case however, this was different he knew where those scars came from, he knew the person who inflicted them and it made his heart ache. He felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach as grief threatened to interfere with his work, he quickly stifled it and continued studying Derry’s hand.

"So do you want me to get rid of these scars for you? I don't know how much damage is below the tissue just yet, it's probably for the best, he could have fried a nerve or two...."

He....Luka swallowed hard at that thought for a long moment, he was not just another Sith he was a half brother and he wondered for a brief moment if Derry had remembered that. If he did, he couldn’t let Derry feel guilt, he couldn’t let his personal feelings overpower his ethics, but there was a question he had to ask, something that was burning deep inside of him.

"Derry....this is...unprofessional, and I apologize in advance... but....it was him or you wasn't it? He didn't give you a choice did he?"

His blue eyes raised from the Lorridian's hand and looked gently into his eyes. Once again, something he probably shouldn’t have said, this was becoming a day for that. Oh well, Derry was good and of all people Derry would understand….

[Derry Angeles]

It was the same day. The redheaded seventeen year old looked at the blond Padawan while they went through the motions of checking his hands for a minute. Was it evening yet? Derry felt hazy. There wasn’t anything critical wrong with him. Only that he felt like his brain must still be addled. It wasn’t pain at this point. Blood loss? Shock? His skull hitting the duracrete… or whatever the coating on the Sith knife that had gotten jammed into his collarbone was… or the burned hands… or… adrenaline… or… that he’d killed a boy today. A Darksided boy, and there hadn't been much else to do. But still, he'd been even younger than Derry.

His master and her master had both been here… not long ago? They must have stepped out. It was fine. Derry didn’t feel abandoned or anything. The Lorridian looked at the part-Sephi. He cleared his mind enough to put thoughts together about his hands. Take care of the nerve damage under the lightning burns? Good idea, yeah? Luka didn’t feel like this was professional for some reason. Luka apologized. Odd, because Luka was nothing but professional. The healer padawan breathed integrity. The slightly older young linguist had respected that about him for… always? Since they were kids. Bakura younglings. Luka was two years younger, but they were the same at first because there were only eleven of them in that class. Luka quietly asked a question the trooper had already asked in the report. Was he okay? Derry started to brush his hand through his mop of hair, and then realized that obviously that was a less good idea at the moment. He swallowed and calmly grasped for whatever it was he was forgetting.

“Luka… wh… oh… Yeah.”

Green eyes stared quietly into blue for the second time today. Words failed him, but the Sentinel took care not to retreat his thoughts away into any language that the Consular wouldn’t understand. Derry regretted that he hadn’t thought about it earlier, but Luka never really talked about it either. Not even about Alex much. Derry dropped his gaze down to stare at the bacta-tended burns and the angsty red patterns over the freckles on his hands, with his friend’s clean hands gently under them while Luka carefully tried to not cause much extra hurt. Had some other healer done anything with his hands already? Maybe. The swelling seemed down; and he didn't see much of the evidence he'd expected from the hot saber hilt. They smarted, but they didn’t feel dead anymore. On a purely instinctive level, Derry prepped himself for the idea that the younger teen might move quickly and make him wince or something; though he wasn’t worried about anything like that being purposeful. Even if it was, it didn’t really matter. They were Jedi. On Coruscant. There was no crisis here, and Derry had the luxury of understanding that he’d be fine. Who else in the galaxy was blessed enough to know they could end up thrown through a tower window or life alteringly fried, stabbed, and half-dead in the street at the crack of dawn—and be cared for and perfectly fine. The same day. Derry swallowed. He looked back up to Luka’s eyes and shifted his shoulders.

“…Luka. Kriff. Did you know him? Even if you didn't... You shouldn’t have to be the one, you know. Don’t worry about the hands; they’re not a problem. With… Adrian… No, there was only the one way to do anything. He was on top of me with the thing going into my neck and I could barely keep pressure on the saber hilt. We hit the pavement. I couldn’t see much. Nothing to do about the angle. I tried talking to him before that.. I don’t know how long. It was something, Luka. But I can’t think of… anything, for telling you how sorry I am that you have to know it.”

[Luka Balmore]

Luka silently thought as Derry spoke, he kriffed this one up too didn't he? He tried not to let any vestiges of negative emotion creep out from deep within his soul. He did not want to put any guilt or feeling of unease on Derry. Derry was so good, he shouldn't have even asked the question but sometimes people behave differently when they are grieving, he had seen it before. For some reason however, he just thought he was above those types of emotions, smarter than them in almost every single way, but apparently not he was just Sephi...well and human too, though he did not much claim that half. Maybe that was his problem to begin with? He was refusing to let go of whatever it was he was holding onto and it caused a small crack in his otherwise strong armour and when hit just the right way it split open. This was.....good that he learned it here he guessed, better here than on some battlefield under immense amounts of pressure...or worse yet when he was older with a Padawan of his own maybe, failing like that in front of your own Padawan...that would be bad.

He took a deep breath and nodded quietly to Derry.

"Yes, I knew him. We met six months ago here on Coruscant, he was masquerading as some gang member kid and I fixed a clear lightsaber wound on his arm. I never did get out of him where it really came from. He came back here and chatted with Master Li, and I where it was revealed who we were to each other. I was trying to turn him....but based on your wounds and the shape your di'kut roommate is in down the hall, I was a bit less than successful. He was probably manipulating me honestly, probably trying to do the same thing to me. Seriously though, Arty is fine, he Guardianed his way through it. He's got a new arm now and he's fascinated by it..."

Luka grinned at the mild and friendly insult to Arty, he respected the older Padawan and recognized that a thick skull was exactly what had likely saved both of them. He felt Derry tense up and he gently and slowly brought his hand back over to him and started to analyze the damage.

"I'm fine, let me fix your hand, it is literally my job. He fried the synovium pretty good as well as your unlar nerve, I cannot imagine that feels all that good or maybe you're lucky and the damage took the pain away? Judging by your wince at running your hand through your hair though, I'd doubt it."

He offered Derry the warm reassuring smile of a confident doctor who could not be distracted from his duties even if his own personal world was potentially falling down around him.

"Adrian was stubborn and it's better that of the two of you....that you're the one breathing. I loved my brother, but he's gone now and clearly if he had his way you would be instead, I've known you since we were kids, I just met him....months ago. My heart does ache for him, but I feel that it would break if you or Arty were in his place having died at his hand. I'm not upset at you, you did the Jedi thing, the only person I'm upset at is Svo'k honestly..."

First thing was first, he inserted blocks around the edges of the healthy nerve to kill the transmission of pain messages to Derry's brain. Something he had done multiple times before, including on the body of the Sith laying in the morgue. He began to slowly work art of the small to repair the synovium first, it was leaking fluid and was accounting for some of the swelling. If left untreated Derry would eventually, sooner rather than later develop permanent pain in his hands making it difficult to flex and or grip anything, even his own lightsaber. Jedi could push through pain sure, but inflamed joints that wouldn't function could not be readily compensated for in a mind over matter situation. Slowly he repaired the membrane and worked on the inflammation which would likely impeded the function of the nerves as the liquid would make it's wait into the canals and confuse and or disrupt normal nerve function. With the synovium repaired, he went to work on the ulnar nerve which was as he described it fried with electricity. This was more tedious and required a battle plan, he stopped for a brief moment to give Derry a chance to respond as he would likely not be able to offer him much attention once he began work on the nerve.

[Derry Angeles]

Green eyes watched the younger teen with an attentive expression. Derry accepted letting Luka tend to his hands, the diplomat’s unspoken tension fading away into trust and relieved gratitude the moment that the capable young healer began working. The dulled nerve pain sensation dropped from midway on the scale down to negligible, like Luka had flipped some perfect switch or managed to stick him with the most instantaneously targeted anesthetic. Derry vaguely remembered the theory behind that, but healing was generally several stages past anything that he could actually touch in the Force. The older teen breathed calmly and let Luka get to it.

Without prying for much more right now, Derry listened to the strands of past history, consequences, and lasting emotions that his friend saw fit to talk about. What had Luka said a minute ago? Listening was literally Derry’s job.

’The only person I'm upset at is Svo'k honestly…’

It came down to that, didn’t it? And it made… enough sense, that Derry bet it would for a while. He laid carefully back against the raised support on the bed when he knew that moving wouldn’t throw off the details of whatever Luka was doing. He let himself look away at the afternoon skyline through the window — not because he didn’t want to look at Luka, or as if he was especially squeamish or anything; but Luka was busy, and Derry felt both sensitive enough and... currently both physically and emotionally invested enough, that he didn't want to over-burden him right now. He also didn’t feel any benefit to just staring and trying to make sense of the odd painless sensations flickering around in his hands between Luka’s, so — looking away out the window was good enough for a few minutes.

“It’s really relieving that Arty’s fine… except about that arm thing I guess… I was scared he wouldn’t be. And.. thank you, Luka. I mean for your help, but also that we’re good. But remember it’s okay if you’re less fine later, alright? This was… something. I wouldn’t mind if you told me about him sometime.”

The blocky long shape of a large civilian bus sped across one of the higher flyways between the capitol centers in the distance. It completely dwarfed the smaller speeders and shuttles around it. Derry smiled regretfully. Somehow they weren't that big when you standing on top of one with a Sith.

“Do you still hear from your mom?”

[Luka Balmore]

Luka smirked a bit at the Arty comment, he even chuckled as he thought about it for moment, his blue eyes lit up to what was their normal level of happiness despite the circumstances.

"I wouldn't worry about the arm with him, he's like a kid who just got the best birthday present ever. He's totally fascinated by it and dare I say, kind of proud of it. That's why I called him a di'kut, but to each their own, I'd rather keep my natural limbs personally."

As his older friend finished the sentiment he offered him a warm smile.

"Absolutely, the help is why I'm here...and the other thing, well you did nothing wrong and we're friends, so of course we're good. I see no sense in blaming a Jedi for killing a Sith, that's kind of our job I think, even mine if it had come to it. I'd like to think if it were Arty and I against Adrian that I would have had the strength to do the same, but I guess thankfully, we'll never know."

Luka let Derry's next couple of questions hang in the air for a brief moment. They were both a bit more complex, he wasn't quite sure one was even a question.He had mentioned not being okay later and Luka had ascertained that the only reason he was okay at the moment was because he was in his natural setting and doing his work, so his mind had not been able to skip back the lifeless body down the hall. It was something that he was keenly aware of as being fact, but his conscious mind was not working at processing that at this moment, it was something he would have to deal with after his shift and maybe take a couple days after today, but he was here now and there was just no sense in leaving early and increasing the work load to the other healers because his Sith half brother was dead. It would maybe be different if Adrian was a Jedi and the two had known each other since they were little, but they hadn't and he wasn't. He was sure Kaytren and Erril would understand, but at the same time he was just not even going to bring it up, he was a Jedi Healer, bad things happened, and sometimes those bad things happened to you or those you care about and it is was your job as a healer to move forward and deal with it when there weren't more pressing matters.

"Interesting that you bring up my Mom, yeah we've reconnected a bit especially since we moved to Coruscant. She met a guy and is married with kids, I've been there a few times and it has been good. She's much better now than way back then, she seems happy."

He smiled again.

"Today was definitely something. Told you about Adrian or Svo'k? I'm sorry, I didn't know quite what you meant there. Keep talking I'll listen but won't respond immediately because nerve work is somewhat delicate and while I actually did it on Adrian six months ago, it wasn't in the hand, you do need to feel things in your hand so I'll be focusing on that but can still listen to you."

Luka gripped the older Padawan's hand and forearm with extreme delicacy and began working on the fibrous nerve endings in Derry's hand. The were a bit worse off than he had imagined, the entirety of the nerve was nearly destroyed, not beyond repair for a healer, but a non-sensitve surgeon would have written it off at this point and taught his patient how to live without that sensation. Something that could be easily done, but was not ideal, especially for a Jedi. He began working at the base of the nerve down near the wrist and slowly began infusing it with light energy and coercing new neurons to grow in place of the dead ones, where he could he saved damaged but living neurons, but as he worked his way up into the palm and near the base of the pinky and ring finger he noticed that where the neurons of the ulnar nerve connected to those of the median nerve there was a significant amount of subdural damage. He stopped for a moment to consider the best course of action, the neurons of the ulnar nerve in the pinky and the ring finger were still fried, if he did not repair those Derry would have no sensation in either of those two fingers which would not be great, the damage there was a bit more fixable too and required less energy, just coercing more neurons to grow and rebuild the nerve. The damage where the two nerves met however was more severe and required some tissue work as well. Realistically he was relatively sure he had time to do both just fine, but he did need a priority. Without much hesitation he realized the priority was definitely the fingers as the new neurons that had just been born so to speak would connect quicker to the new ones in the pinky and ring finger the younger they were. Whereas if he could not do anything about where the two nerves met, worst case scenario Derry would have a small dead spot about the size of a button off of a tunic where he wouldn't feel anything, which in all likelihood would be compensated naturally by what the hand thinks it should be feeling based on the location of the two healthy nerves anyway.

He nodded to himself and began work on both of those fingers using art of the small and other various techniques to ensure that the new neurons were healthy and functional in both fingers. Once complete he did a once over and made sure his work on the ulnar nerve was above satisfactory. He nodded and then focused on where the two nerves met. First he would need healthy tissue to give the new connection a place to live where it would not constantly be sending pain messages to Derry's brain. He took a breath and cocked his head sideways as if he could actually see what he was about to do. Slowly he worked on the tissue accelerating it's natural regeneration and healing rate, as scar tissue grew he slowly destroyed it to make way for healthy tissue, this way there would be no sense of numbness in the area. Then once again, he slowly coerced new neurons to grow and connect with one another bridging the small gap between the two nerves, if successful there shouldn't be a lot of difference in feeling if any. He paused again and looked over his work, in a brief moment he realized something, once the pain blocks were removed, Derry was going to get one hell of a jolt of pain given how many pain messages were backed up at the blocks. He had let Adrian feel that pain and normally, would have done it differently than he had done it with Adrian, but still the patient would feel it. He glanced at his wrist watch, his shift was almost over anyway and Derry had been through enough. Whats more, Luka knew exactly what to expect and could not necessarily convey it to Derry in a way that allowed him to prepare himself...but Luka could be prepared.

He adjusted his grip and placed both his hands around Derry's wrist and sort of tapped into the nerve just below the blocks. This was going to hurt, but if he did it right Derry wouldn't feel a thing. He had to do it all at once, like ripping off a bandage, otherwise it would just be drawn out and Derry might get the pain. In a flash he quickly withdrew his blocks and the pain messages shot down the nerve and were intercepted by Luka, shooting into his hands and straight to his brain in a millisecond. The pain was near instantaneous, it burned as if he had just grabbed a live electrical wired, sweat formed on his brow but he kept his grip loose so as not to startle or otherwise alarm Derry in anyway, once he was sure he had taken all of the pain messages from the new and repaired nerves, he slowly released his grip and set Derry's hand down. His breathing increased and unbeknownst to him he had been down so hard on the inside of his lip that he could taste blood, he probed it with his tongue and brought his hand to lip and quickly healed it. He took a deep breath and calmed his own heart rate and breathing rate down, he wasn't in danger, it just hurt like hell, he just needed to reassure his body of that.

He flexed his hands multiple times and then wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Did it hurt at all? How's the feeling?"

[Derry Angeles]

The huge transport bus moved past the senate rotunda and disappeared behind the massive shape of the old arcology complex. Luka said something, telling him to keep talking and that he would listen. Derry replied with something calm and sensitive about family… something about Luka’s relatives, something about Derry’s… but mostly the older of the two near-human Padawans felt himself drifting quiet to match his careful young doctor’s silence. It had been a day. The slew of average-size speeders continued to stream in and out of their organized chaos flight lanes. His left hand seemed restored to normal, while the Lorridian was aware in an intellectual sense of the lighting shocked tissues regenerating and the other cellular repairs happening in his hand, in the same sense that he was aware of blood coursing through his veins or his own heartbeat. What he didn’t sense was sensation itself. In a strange way… he found himself back to where he’d been laying on duracrete ten hours ago. His eyes dropped from watching the skyline, down to his hand held carefully between his friend’s. The angry surface burns looked completely erased by time and high level care. Derry saw the whiteish lightning lines, carefully faded but still tracing into the faint branch patterns behind his freckles. He remembered reading once about those. There was a barely perceptible shift in the way Luka stood. The young Jedi linguist and negotiator almost wondered about it. He glanced toward his friend’s face, but then the young physician adjusted both of his hands along Derry’s numbed wrist. The seventeen year old found his gaze dropping back down to his fingers in calm curiosity when he noticed with appreciation that he could feel his thumb against his index fingerand that his touch sense processed Luka letting go of his hand as normal.

Derry curled his fingers once and ran the edge of a nail along his palm. It worked just as it should and he was grateful. He looked back at his friend in time to see him drop a finger from touching his face, Luka flexing his own hands as if stretching away a cramped muscle. The younger Jedi was sweating a little now, too. Derry felt grateful for his friend all the more. He knew that Luka hadn’t been affected like that when he’d started; something in the nerve work or all that careful Force channeling must have tired him toward the end.

“No, nothing hurt. The feeling is perfect. It's the same as any other day; I am just more aware of it.”

The young Sentinel stood up, moving gingerly at first, but more easily when his mind and body realized that the last of the injuries they were instinctively guarding were healed enough. Derry pulled on a clean overshirt, then the rest of the spare clothing that someone had left on the chair for him. He was sure that must have been Lylia, but the last hours were too hazy to remember. He picked up his weapon, simultaneously grateful and a little somber at the familiar weight and feel of the hammered metal hilt in his hand. He clipped the lightsaber to his belt. After the senior padawan had looked out at the traffic lanes over the Federal District a last time, he crossed to his friend and clasped Luka's shoulder in a half-hug, then lowered his hands to his sides.

“Thank you, Luka. I appreciate your work, and you, very much. Is there anything that I can do for you? Really.”