46

The monastery was a wreck.

Corridors that had born witness to the Jedi fight were covered in the stark criss-crossed lightsaber marks that had scorched the stone. Wire and broken lights dangled from the ceiling, shooting feeble sparks down like rain drops. The harsh, bitter scent of coppery blood and ether still lingered.

The cafeteria was worse. Bent and broken tables were scattered around the room – some lodged into the walls like massive projectiles. Jagged pieces of plastic trays and ceramic plates crunched beneath metal boots. From whispered conversations, the buffet line was destroyed, glass smashed to bits and metal troughs bent beyond repair. Not to mention the far window was gone, allowing the hissing rain and whipping wind to curl inside.

Saedii stared at it all in a semi-dreamlike state. Her hand was clutched tightly around the necklace at her throat as she repeated over and over, Not a dream. Not a dream.

Rex and Happy were barking out orders, organizing repairs. Howzer had already begun shuffling injured troopers to a spare bunkroom downstairs, which would serve as their medical bay for the foreseeable future. Apparently, the one upstairs was in no state to serve patients.

From a quick count, there had been thirty injuries ranging from small cuts and bruises to a trooper who'd taken a spare piece of shrapnel to the eye. Only three deaths. Though only felt subjective.

"General, AZI needs more hands," a trooper said at her elbow.

If there was one good thing that had come from the fight, it was that she'd seemed to win back the trust of the Clones. Several had already clapped her on the back in approval. A few had even given her praise.

"Send Tech," Saedii answered automatically. "He has medical training. He can help."

"Yes, Sir." The trooper saluted and ran off to do her bidding.

Groups of Clones had begun to salvage through the wreckage. A few tables had been recovered unharmed, but most bore dents or scorch marks. Some had even been ruined entirely. They were going to have a hell of a job cleaning up.

Her body moved on its own accord, like she'd switched to autopilot. There was a faint ringing in her brain, like she'd emerged too suddenly from hyperspace. It was a nauseating feeling. She felt dizzy.

Someone was standing behind her, following closely. It wasn't Hunter – that much she knew. She'd sent him to take Wrecker to see AZI for a cut to the neck, even as he'd protested. It wasn't Echo either, who was across the room with Rex, or Omega, who was downstairs confined to quarters.

A hand reached out and grasped her arm.

"Come on," Crosshair's voice urged, low where the others couldn't hear.

Saedii didn't have the strength or the will to refuse him as he led her out of the cafeteria. The halls seemed to blur and stretch before her as they walked, and that terrible numbness in her mind spread, making her head swim. Crosshair's hand tightened on her arm as she stumbled, keeping her on her feet.

When he pulled her inside a dark, quiet room, it took her a very long moment to recognize that it was her bunk room. The very same on that Hunter had brought her to only yesterday when she'd broken down.

Was that really only yesterday?

"You're shivering."

Was she? She hadn't even noticed, but now that he pointed it out, she realized he was right. Her whole body was shaking, teeth chattering. A faint chill raced down her skin.

Crosshair sat her on the edge of her bed and went to her trunk. He rummaged inside for a moment before he pulled out a soft, warm looking pullover.

"Let's put this on you," he murmured, kneeling in front of her.

Saedii's dirty hands caught her attention. Wet and muddy and crusted with blood – Kalth's and her own. That thin ringing in her head grew louder.

Something twisted in her gut. She lurched out of bed, aiming for the fresher door only a few feet away.

Hands shaking, she yanked up the lid of the toilet and vomited.

Bile burned the back of her throat and her stomach cramped as it emptied. Sickening dread twisted in her gut, forcing up the breakfast she'd consumed only an hour ago. The force of it was so powerful it brought her onto her knees.

Hands were at her shoulders, drawing her hair back. One ran a soothing arc down her back as another round of nausea gripped her, and she was sick once again. Her own hands that gripped the toilet before her suddenly grew blurry.

"Shh. You're alright." Crosshair's voice was gentle. Soothing. One hand reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. "It's over now."

Her body gave a sharp spasm. Breath caught in her throat.

"It's over, Saedii. Everyone is safe."

He was right. Kalth was upstairs in the same cell she had occupied for two days, being treated for minor wounds. Tech and Padme would heal. The twins were unharmed. Rex had even told her that Cere was stable.

But that knowledge did nothing to stop the chasm that tore at her chest.

She hadn't wanted to fight. Hadn't been ready. After everything that had happened to her at Fortress Inquisitorious, she hadn't even been sure she wanted to pick up her lightsabers ever again.

The choice had been made for her. Yet again.

Numbness crept in at the corners of her mind. Her body felt like it was close to shutting down. Close to succumbing to the promise of nothingness that hovered close by.

It took a moment before she realized she was no longer hovering over the toilet. The metal wall supported her back as Crosshair leaned over the sink, running the water. Then, he was kneeling in front of her, wiping lightly at her face.

"Let's get you cleaned up. Then you can rest," he promised.

The soft feel of the warm towel over her cheeks barely registered as Saedii wrestled with the numbness that threatened to pull her under. She hardly even noticed the sting as he dabbed at the thin slice along her hair line.

The door opened behind her. Someone else stepped inside.

Low voices spoke over her, loud enough that she could hear what they were saying if she wanted to. But she didn't. A firm hand played gently with a strand of hair that had fallen into her face.

Then, someone sat beside her, holding her to a chest that felt like it was too cold to be human. Too hard. Metal, maybe.

A second pair of hands held her face between them. From the unfocused colors of the fresher, Crosshair's face suddenly appeared.

"You need a few stitches," he told her, slowly. Like he wasn't sure she'd understand.

She didn't protest. The hands on her shoulders tightened in a comforting embrace.

The stick and pull of the needle in her skin was faint, like it was happening to someone else. She was vaguely aware of it only when the thread tightened, but even that wasn't enough to cause her pain. She felt nothing but cold and empty.

A small eternity passed before there was a sharp snip and the stitching stopped. The person holding her sat her up, and leaned in close to look her in the eye.

"We're going to take this off, alright?" Echo said. They were both speaking to her very gently, as if the sound of their voice would break her. "Cross needs to see your back. He thinks you might have some glass in there."

If he was expecting a refusal, Saedii was long past that. She simply didn't have the strength for anything.

Cold scissors cut the grimy white shirt from her body. Dimly, she remembered that she still wore her underclothes beneath – a compression bra and a pair of shorts. But even if she hadn't, she doubted she had the energy to care.

The feel of the cold air made her shiver without the protection of her shirt. Echo pulled her in to his chest, brushing her damp muddy hair out of her face. "We're almost done kid. Then you can rest."

Rest sounded nice.

Something prodded at her back. Tiny pinches announced the removal of pieces of glass that had embedded in the skin. They made soft tinkling sounds as they were dropped onto the metal floor beside them.

Saedii stiffened when wet gauze pressed into the wounds. This stung – enough that it registered in the grey fog of Saedii's mind. She sucked in a breath.

Echo's hand smoothed over her head. "One more. Cross needs to look at your thigh, then you'll be done."

Her pants were cut off. Cold washed over her but she warmed as Echo drew her in closer, running a hand down her arm. She let her face fall into his chest, breathing in his clean rain-washed scent.

Crosshair worked quickly. There were a few faint pokes of a needle, some tugging, and then the click of the scissors once it was done.

A warm rag ran over her arms, her legs, her back – wiping at the mud and blood. Her slippers were tossed – black and ruined – into the far corner, and the dried mud cleaned from her feet.

Once she was clean, there was a brief debate levied over her. A discussion.

A moment later, two sets of arms were pulling her towards the shower.

"We're going to wash your hair out for you," Echo explained as he and Cross opened the door. They pulled her head and shoulders inside, laying her on her side so as not to disturb the fresh wounds on her back.

One of them – Saedii's couldn't tell who – held her head off the ground while the other ran warm water along her scalp. Red, purple, and brown water raced along the floor of the shower as gentle fingers ran through her hair. She shivered against the heat of the water, which felt so nice against her chilled skin.

All too soon, the shower shut off. A towel wrapped around her head, wringing out the water. Once her hair had stopped dripping, someone gave a murmured assent and she was lifted off the ground.

The fresher flashed past – bright and silver. She turned her face into the shoulder beneath her as it quickly gave way to the darkened walls of her dorm.

She was placed back on her bed. Damp heavy hair hung down her back, sticking to her bare skin. Something soft and warm was yanked over her head, and she finally stopping shivering.

More hands were on her then, pulling a clean pair of pants over her chilled legs. Combing her hair back from her face. Wrapping a woolen blanket around her shoulders.

"You're alright now," Echo's voice said from somewhere nearby. His hand ran along the top of her head and gently guided it back towards a pillow.

Saedii laid down. Her dorm swam in and out of focus. Her body felt like it was humming with exhaustion, running on sheer willpower alone. Drained.

The door to her dorm opened. Someone else stepped inside, talking quietly to Crosshair and Echo. It was a deep voice.

Then, Hunter leaned down in front of her. Frowning.

"Hey, kid," he said softly, reaching out to touch her cheek. "It's time to sleep, alright? You're wiped. You need rest."

She just stared at him. Didn't he know that was what she wanted, too? That she quite literally had nothing left?

"Cross is going to give you a sedative so you can sleep. Is that okay?"

Sedative.

The word trickled through the fog, stirring something. Fear.

Her vision sharpened, focusing. The dorm swam back into focus, enough that she could finally see Hunter's face lined with worry. See Crosshair and Echo behind him, bearing the same expressions.

"No." Lips like stone, Saedii spoke. A faint sound.

Hunter's brow creased. "I think it's a good idea. You need to calm down. You haven't stopped crying or shaking since the fight ended two hours ago."

Two hours? It felt like seconds had passed.

She reached up then, finding her cheeks damp with fresh tears. No wonder her eyes burned so bad.

"I can't," Saedii admitted to him.

"Why not?"

Her throat worked as she swallowed. "What if I don't wake up?"

What if she was stuck again in the nightmares? What if, like last time, the drug pulled her down into a dream that she could never escape from?

She wouldn't survive that twice.

At her admission, Crosshair shoved forward and vowed, "That's not going to happen. We won't let it."

Hunter's hand stroked along her face. It was a tender touch. One of comfort and gentleness. "Cross is right. I promise that you'll wake up."

Saedii met Echo eyes. He nodded in agreement.

"Please, Saedii." Hunter's voice was rough. "For me. Let us help you get some rest."

Heart pounding in her throat, Saedii gave in.

At her nod, Crosshair stepped forward and brushed her hair back from her neck. There was a slight pinch, and then he let her hair fall back in place.

Immediately, the room went out of focus. The heavy weight of her eyes beckoned, becoming impossible to ignore, and her body slackened, going still. Her eyes shut.

The last thing she felt before sleep claimed her was a gentle hand pulling the blanket over her.