He didn't mean to hit me, it was all my fault.

[Chrys Atreides]

Present.

"Hey Tink? Have we got anymore of the two-ten coil? This one's too brittle to put back in on Twelve."

"There should be a box somewhere on the back shelves. I think its green."

"Tink, they're all green. Have we not invented labels?"

"Listen blondie, if ya wanna label them sometime, knock yourself out..."

Chrys grinned amiably and tossed a rag at his head as he popped out of Rogue Six to make a face at her. It was good, she mused as she strode through the hangar, to be able to have this kind of friendship with someone again. The light-hearted, easy banter where she didn't have to worry with every word if there was going to be a hand or a belt flying in afterwards.

She flinched out of pure reflex as the hanger door slid open suddenly, admitting one of the other fleet mechanics carrying a datapad. A faint smile curled her lips as she waved and pointed down the row to where Tink was hanging half in and half out of the cockpit.

"Bloody hell..these shelves are a mess...how does he ever find anything around here?" Chrys muttered under her breath, bright blue eyes glancing over her shoulder every few moments. As if she expected Rhys to be coming up behind her again, his leather belt with its ornate silver buckle wrapped around his fist.

Fingers curled around the box of coils once she found it, tightening as she walked them back to where she'd been working on Twelve. By the time she'd gotten there, though, her hands had started shaking. No matter how hard she tried, the wrench and its bright pink grip wouldn't wouldn't turn. Instead, it fell with a loud clang to the decking at her feet. Even taking slow, deep breaths wasn't helping this time. Her throat closed up as she fought the rising tide of panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

Spinning on her heel she spared a tear-filled glance towards Tink before she bolted out of the hangar.

-----

Six weeks prior.

A pair of little feet padded down the dark, silent hallway, a much loved stuffed bantha clutched in slender arms. The obnoxiously bright pink creature had been a gift from her uncle Justin, and ever since he'd given it to her, Emma would not let it out of her sight. Peeking around the slightly open door, the little one breathed a sigh of relief that her mommy was awake and looking at her.

Tiny lips curled in a tentative smile as she waved the bantha's foot and waited like she was supposed to. She could still see mommy moving, trying to get out of bed without waking daddy up. He didn't like waking up before he was supposed. Mommy fell alot when that happened.

It was only a minute until she came out and picked Emma up in her arms, holding her close. The little one wound her arms around her mommy's neck and hung on tight as she felt her shake.

"Sweetling, did you have a bad dream?"

"No...can't sleep. Sumfin feels icky in my head again."

"Do you think it would help if I tucked you back in and sat with you for a little while?"

Emma nodded and rubbed at her eyes with one small fist before resting her head on mommy's shoulder and sighing tiredly. They didn't even make it to the door of the bedroom she shared with Brianne before they heard an angry voice coming from behind them.

Chrys froze in place and bit her bruised lip sharply as Emma whimpered in fear. She blocked out his voice as best she could as she leaned over and put the little one down...too far away from her bedroom door for her liking.

"Do you remember how I told you to hide with Brianne, and put a little comm-link in your secret hiding spot?" At the little one's tear-filled nod, she continued, keeping her exterior calm even though internally she was screaming. There'd been something in his tone that made her blood run cold, and coupled with the ribs he'd broken just last week in his work accident...she didn't think her chances were at all good. "Ok...I need you to do that right now. And use the comm-link like I taught you...call Uncle Justin."

"But I'm not sposed to tell Uncle Justin...less its a 'mergency."

"It's an emergency, baby...please hide. And don't come out until the police come...mommy needs to know you're safe...go, angel..."

She didn't even have time to finish her sentence before she was yanked away and tossed into the doorframe of the bathroom. But Rhys didn't seem to notice that she was still standing, albeit shakily, as he reached for Emma who'd frozen in fear right on the spot. Flinging herself across the hallway she knocked him off balance and before turning to shove Emma into movement.

"EMMA! RUN! NOW!"

There were already tears streaming down her cheeks as he rumbled to his feet, a hand holding his side for a moment. She watched as the door closed and she heard the lock click, sending a prayer out to any deity who would listen to just let help get there in time for the girls. She just needed to stay alive long enough to keep him distracted.

Blue eyes wide, Chrys turned to face Rhys, rubbing frantically at her eyes. Gods how he hated it when she cried. "You're not supposed to touch the girls...you promised me you'd leave them alone...they're our daughters, Rhys...they're just babies..." she whispered, unable to force her voice to raise itself any louder.

She flinched before he even raised his hand and took the opening to race by him, heading down the hall towards the living room. Chrys didn't really make it far, but it was enough to shift his momentum away from the girls' locked door. His large fist collided with her shoulder just enough to send her tumbling to the floor. Trying to scramble away only earned her a sharp kick to her side, hard enough to drive the wind out of her send her sliding into the wall head-first. Dazed and disoriented, she offered no resistance as he picked her up by the neck and slammed her back into the wall.

Blinking, she belatedly realized he hadn't said a word, just as her vision began to darken. After a few minutes, she stopped feeling every hit of his belt-buckle wrapped hand, her entire body going numb as she mercifully passed out. Rhys however, wasn't done, and by the time the police broke down the door to the apartment, there was blood liberally splattered everywhere and Chrys was barely recognizable.

-----

Present.

There were too many people in the hallway as she bolted out, wide eyed and panicked as she couldn't see a way out. She froze, whimpering faintly as she turned back into the hanger and crammed herself into one of the niches below the metal grating stairs that led to the catwalks above. Drawing her knees up to her chest and burying her face against them, she shook as her mind locked itself in a loop of memory.

[Justinian Atreides]

Present Day

Oh, happy day. Flight Officer Atreides was whistlin' a tune, walking purposefully down the corridors that lead him to the hangar bay and out on to its wide-open deck, littered with snubfighters and other small craft, maintenance crew and their equipment and the murmur of noise, accentuated with the cutting sound of some saw or the soft, hissing burn of welding torch or soldering iron. Amongst all of this, he was looking for one person and one person only. Except, with the looking around and all the noise, he could neither see nor hear her telltale song or self-admonishments (or having banter with one of the other workers). But... he did spy Altink.

"Heyyyyyy, Regan..." he smirked at saying the name, clearing his throat as he approached the younger man, putting a hand out to greet him. Tink finished his business with the other mechanic and walked to meet Justin halfway. "...Tink! How's it going, man?"

'Alright, not too bad, not too bad at all, Atreides.' The young man, Regan Altink (or Tink, as he preferred), who was only year or two removed from his teenage years, made the attempt to rub his hands clean of the grease with a well-worn rag, though the attempt was mostly futile and he knew that well enough, but not enough to stop unconscious habit. After a few moments of this, he finally recieved the pilot's hand and gave it a good, strong shake. 'Good to see ya, as always. What can I do for ya?'

Justinian smiled as the boy released his hand and they both stood there, in one relaxed pose or another.

"You seen my sister?" He cast his gaze off around the room in a show, speaking as he did. "She's supposed to be around here somewhere, but I couldn't spot her."

'Well...' He began, glancing over his shoulder towards the shelves and the little alcove that they were in. '...last I saw her she was heading to the shelves but... well, come to think of it, I haven't heard her humming or singing that damned song she got stuck in her head (no thanks to you) and I suppose I should be happy about that, but...'

It occured to the mechanic just what he had seen out the corner of his eye while he was occupied with Fenrin, another mechanic.

'...shit.' The young mechanic shook his head. 'I almost didn't see it, but she's off and gone running somewhere, Justin. She's spooked again and bolted and... I can't say where she might be hiding. She went off down that corridor, I think' Regan thumbed back at a corridor that lead out of the hangar bay, just to the left of the supply alcove before shaking his head and sighing. 'I'm sorry, man. Wish I knew what was going on...'

Justinian smiled and it was an effort to, over the lines of worry that etched into his forehead. "... but that's her business. If she ever tells ya, it'll be when she's ready to. Thanks for the help."

Atreides patted the young mechanic on the shoulder and set out into a near-run, yelling his thanks again, back at Tink as he urgently went off in search of his sibling.


----------------


Six Weeks Prior...

It was the middle of the night, or about as best as could be determined, out in the depths of space. The squadron had just gotten back from their job at Alzoc III the day before and everyone except those assigned to the present patrol shift were asleep, getting as many z's in as they could before their own shifts or to try and beat as many effects of a hangover as they could. Justinian was out like a light and unlike a fair few of his squadron-mates, having a restful, booze-free slumber.

Until, that is, his comm. pager beeper softly, buzzing hard against the palm of his hand, which was curled (unknowingly to him) against his mouth. It was by the second or third buzz and the escalating sound of the single-sound chime that he had stopped the alerts and propped himself up and was looking with bleary eyes at the tag on the little display. Lowering the bright letters and numbers from his face in the dark, he rubbed at his eyes and tried again, falling squarely out of his bunk, with his legs tangled in the sheets once he was able to focus on what the pager said, who and/or where the call was coming from.

She knew not to call unless it was an emergency and no matter how much they missed each other, she kept her promise not to abuse the comm. frequency. He'd gotten a special dispensation for her. It had been hard to get, but she was allowed the information. That had cost him a hefty favour, but he would do anything for her.

Disentangling himself from the sheets, he fumbled around most blindly in the almost complete darkness of the bunkroom to find his loafers and into his jacket pocket where his own small, personal comm was usually stowed. Grabbing it, he wasted no time in getting himself out into the hall and was walking speedily towards the hangar bay (which wasn't far off) as he brought the call line up in the queue and tapped to answer, only to be greeted with the face of a sweet looking little girl - his niece, Emma.

"Emma, honey... does mommy know you're..."

And then he heard the crying, the terror in it and saw the redness of her little cheeks and the tears that just wouldn't stop. It was an image that could have stopped his heart, as it was that wrenching.

"Sweetie? Emma, honey? Listen to me. Talk to me, baby, tell Uncle Justin what's wrong."

'Mommyyyyyyyy!' The soft, mournful wail came with screeching clarity out of the comm. speaker. 'Da... Da...'

The girl could hardly get anything out amidst the complete upset. Her wet eyes did finally focus on the comm., though. A surge of distaste, hatred, and ultimately, rage welled up inside the Lorrdian pilot and it took everything to swallow it down so he could reassure the girl as best he could without being near and do what needed to be done next.

"Emma? Listen to me." His voice was a little stern and the girl's sobs cut off, her eyes focused unwaveringly on the comm. "Good, honey. Now, I want you to stay right where you are, don't move, don't make a sound. Please honey, do that for me?"

The little girl nodded, but said nothing, one fist now furled into her mouth.

"Okay, now. I need to hang up. Gotta call people that can help mommy, okay? Gotta call the police and some friends, okay?" The girl looked like she was going to burst out in a piercing wail at the mention of his disconnecting the call. "Oh, sweet girl, be brave. Be brave for me. Everything's going to be alright."

He paused, smiling with a wavering smile at the girl who sniffled long and hard and nodded. 'Okay, Uncle Justin.'

"Okay." He affirmed. "You hang in there. Help's on the way."

He hated to leave the girl alone again, but if he was to do anything, to get done what needed doing, some sacrifices had to be made. Looking up from the comm, which held no communication as he keyed the next call from memory, he noted how coldly quiet the hangar bay was. The device shook lightly, as his hand was shaking and he looked down at the screen again as he keyed the call. It connected without haste to an operator who was awfully chipper looking for three a.m.. Justin wasted no time in blurting out what needed to be said.

"Hopper, get me the authorities in Qatamer, Lorrd, now. That asshole is going to kill my sister. Rhys is gonna beat Chrys to death!" He could barely hold back the hot tears that were threatening to fall out of his eyes in droves and the near-fury that was straining within him.

'But -' The communications watch officer looked nervous and almost... frightened.

"NOW, Hopper. Frak permissions and protocol, I don't care how you get it done, just do it." He snarled. "I'll take care of the consequences myself, later."


-----------


Present Day

There were so many places a person could hide on this ship and it meant that finding Chrys was a bit of a challenge. He'd started with checking all the places he had found her before and she hadn't been in a single one of them. Heading back down a corridor he'd been down at least twice already before, he came across one of his squad-mates.

"Hey, Stali." He said, flagging the broad-shouldered Felacatian down. The tanned-skinned man's eyes strayed to the blond-haired pilot and Meeristali gave the Lorrdian a hesitant nod. Peradun always looked like he had somewhere more important to be. Justin could see it in his face and the way he conducted his body towards others. 'Hello, Atreides.'

"Have you seen Chrys around here, anywhere?" He asked. The big man shook his head.

'No, I haven't. I am... sorry.' The darker man looked pained for the interaction. 'Would you like for me to help you track her down? I -'

Justinian laughed, clapping the muscular pilot on the shoulder, who tensed at the contact. "No, that's alright, Stali. I'll find her. Thanks, anyway."

[Chrys Atreides]

Six weeks prior.

She'd never been one to believe in any sort of paranormal experience, and in the true fashion of Lorrdian culture, preferred empirical evidence and learned discourse.

But the universe had a way of making even the hardened non-believers take note. Chrys' first experience had been after Emma was born - toys would occasionally slide across the floor and lights would flicker whenever Rhys was in a bad mood. The first time he'd hit her in front of the little one, she'd been pregnant with Brianne and the holoscreen on the wall had cracked and fallen to the floor in pieces.

After she'd passed out, Rhys had slung her across the room to slam into the kitchen doorway, opening a freely bleeding gash across her forehead. Rage gave him even more strength and adrenaline, hatred making his dark eyes narrow. He'd forgotten completely about the little girls in the room down the hall, in light of his favorite punching bag being unconscious and bleeding - the way often told her he preferred her.

It was an odd sensation, the sudden realization that she could see herself lying in a bloody, crumpled heap on the floor, her blood splashed liberally across the pale cream walls she'd painted herself. That she could watch Rhys as he paced, levelling an obscenity-laced tirade at her immobile form.

Or at least, mostly immobile. Chrys watched as her own hand twitched and her eyelids fluttered, a faint moan parting her bruised and bleeding lips. It sparked a sickening gleam in his eye and forced his voice to lower an octave, and she could feel the panic rising with the mixed blood and bile in her throat.

She snapped back to herself as she managed to cough up the mess and take a deep, ragged breath. One that shot agony to every part of her body, the pain nearly enough to send her under again. She could feel his hands tearing at her robe. A moment later she was praying for death.

Chrys fell unconscious one last time as her heart shuddered to a halt, unable to hear the door shatter inwards. Unable to watch Rhys get pulled away from her and get shoved so hard into the wall that his collarbone shattered. Unable to watch as Justin's best friend raced to the tiny pink bedroom in the back to unlock the door and pull the girls to safety, shielding their tear-stained faces from the sight of their broken mother and raging father.

The medics were frantic as they worked, trying to be mindful of everything they could be as they got her onto a slender hover-board and soon raced her to the med-center.

Five weeks prior.


Doctors and nurses alike hovered around her tiny private room, where she'd been ensconced since she'd been taken out of the longest of the bacta tank treatments she'd been given. But there was little more they could do for her medically, only support her and hope she woke up. Once they were allowed in, the girls refused to leave her again, curling up under the blankets and burrowing against her sides.

She'd have laughed, if she could, to see the glare that Emma leveled at anyone who entered the room and had to poke and prod at her mommy. The sight of Justin standing in the doorway broke the damn, however, as Emma's face crumpled and Brianne burst into hiccuping sobs.

Present.

Tucked away under the landing in the shadowy niche, Chrys rocked back and forth, tension written across every line of her slender frame. Her five foot five inch frame trembled as the panic attack didn't ebb, forcing her up and out of her hiding spot. She slid back into the foot-traffic outside of the hangar, keeping her head down and tracing the wall with a hand. She rushed as quickly as she could, past the turn off for the Rogues' quarters, to another, smaller hallway. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she frantically searched her pockets for her keycard and couldn't find it.

Crumpling to the floor in the shadowed hallway, Chrys struggled to breathe through the pure panic and fear overwhelming her senses.

[Justinian Atreides]

Six weeks prior...

The expediency with which Hopper had patched him through to the requested destination had barely given the Lorrdian enough time to calm enough that he could straighten out, collect his thoughts and give his childhood friend and Lieutenant of the Qatamer Police the low-down. Themis Tarolin had been Justinian's close friend for as long as either of them could recall, the closest thing either of them had to a brother until he'd joined the Rebellion and gained a sort of second family through the squadrons and other closer friends. Best friends, it was possible he'd found to have more than one. He really hadn't needed to say much. And through some small stroke of the blessing of the Force or 'luck', Chrys and Rhys had settled not even a stone's throw from the station.

A poor choice for a creature like him, but one that could mean the difference between life and death for Chrys, this time.

"Themis..." The tone of his voice gave away a lot. "...Chrys, T. He'll kill her, man."

'I've been watching them as best we could, without the higher-ups getting on us about 'wasting resources'...' And the truth was, tonight, Themis had that naggling feeling that had him out on his night off, out for a 'walk', having left the kids in bed, the wife with her reading and within proximity of the abode. '...I'm nearly there, J. The medics are ahead of me...'

"T-man, you hold that bastard. You hold him, take care of Emma and Brianne, save my sister. I'll be there, quick as I can get away with."

'Justin...'

"That frakker is going to get what he deserves, Themis."

'You know you...'

"But you know that too, Themis. And we'll do what needs doing, not what 'should' be done."

And there was silence, on both ends. And the line went dead. The sirens wailed, and Themis Tarolin beat the duracrete at better than his best speed the rest of the way to the scene, flooding in upon the breaking down of the door to do his sworn duty.


------------------------------


Five weeks prior...

Themis had refused to leave his side, as much as could be managed. The Atreides family had been like an extension of his own. Justin and Chrys, like brother and sister. He has seen Chrys and the girls when she could get away with it. Ached just the same that she couldn't see what her spouse was, that it was wrong, that she didn't deserve it. That there was no way anyone could earn this. It had taken this much, but he hoped, he and Justin, that this would be the end of it.

'The docs say the kids refuse to leave her.'

Standing just outside the door to her room, Justinian leaned against the wall, as if he had little strength. He knew that bacta did much, but still, he was oddly afraid of what he might see. As if the bacta couldn't remove the wounds. But he knew the truth of it, that the real wounds and scarring would be much, much deeper than that. Of all people, he should know.

"Yeah." He tore his gaze away from the long corridor that lead away from this section of the hospital to look on the face of his friend. Being able to read each other meant you could get quite adept at hiding everything, but in these times, Justinian didn't bother. He hardly tried to hide it anymore, not as much as he could, as so many other people in his life were not of his world and couldn't see what he could. What everyone of his world could. It was what it meant to be Lorrdian. "Could you..."

Themis nodded. "Yeah man. I'm certain if you assure them, they'd be okay with spending a little time with Uncle Themis."

"Great. Good. I'll..."

And he pushed off the wall to step into the doorway, into the room, but was stopped in the doorway at the sight of it all. And was torn from the doorway when the girls fell apart. He wasted no time in going to those two sweet little angels, lifting them both into his arms and consoling them as he knew he could, pacing away, between the bed and the door and out the door after a few minutes, after asking if they could do something for him, stay with their 'uncle', for just a few minutes while he talked to mommy. It was hard and they didn't want to at all, but most of the conversations around Chrys right now were not for such small ears.

"Sweetie? Chrys?" He had ventured, gingerly sitting himself on the edge of the bed and brushing hair from her face, tracing fingers gently down her face, such an intimately caring touch, resting his palm against her cheek. "It's me. It's Justin. The girls are with Themis. Talk to me, Chrys. I need to hear your voice."


--------------------------------


Present Day

It just seemed harder this time. Just so much harder, as if she was getting better at hiding, at not being found, as if she didn't want to be found. Or maybe he had just kept missing her and he had looked virtually everywhere she could have gone and just needed to look again. It was several minutes after encountering Stali that Justinian had decided to retrace his steps. It was just on the way back to the hangar bay, where he'd started, that he heard the unfortunately familiar, quick drawing in and out of breath near the squadron quarters. Somewhere just behind him, in fact, as he backed up and saw her, huddled on the floor, outside her quarters, as if she had either collapsed there, been locked out of her room or, more likely, been too far out of her senses.

Justinian Atreides wasted no time in going to his kin, dropping to his knees and tending to her as he had, so many times in her short time here. He took her into his arms, there on the deck and stroked her, consoled her.

"It's okay. It's alright. I'm here. You're safe, here." His words but a whisper. "You're safe, here. You're loved."

[Chrys Atreides]

Five weeks prior.

It wasn't that she didn't want to wake up. It was that she simply couldn't. As if years of abuse had finally caught up with her and demanded recognition all at once. Refused to let her unconscious mind shove it away and lock it down. Instead, her mind fled to some distant, dark corner in an effort to preserve what was left of itself while her body healed.

Her mind would mend itself in time...likely a long time, but someday, it would happen.

When Emma and Brianne had first burrowed into her sides, Chrys had actually felt the sensations. The familiar warmth of their weight, the tiny voices speaking softly to her and to one another. It brought her ever closer to waking up with every moment. Tears formed in her still-closed eyes as they sat up and burst into hyterics, lifted up by a familiar presence she recognized at the first sound of his voice.

Another familiar voice at the doorway, the warm rumble soothing the girls as Justin had...Themis. As much her brother as he could be, and married to her best friend.

Her fingers moved, slowly flexing atop the soft pink blanket the girls had brought with them. Soon, they were caught up in Justin's hand as he sat, his other warm against her cool cheek. A ragged breath broke the silence after his plea, drawn between pale lips, as she opened her eyes slowly.

Cautiously, as if she expected everything to fade back into her nightmare under the light of the afternoon sun pouring in the window of her room. When it didn't, and resolved instead into her brother's face, his expression fraught with concern. The tears welling in her eyes spilled across her cheeks, voice eventually emerging with the heavy rasp of disuse and prolonged immersion in bacta.

"I'm sorry...I d-didn't mean to m-make such a mess of th-things." Chrys managed, eyes closing again briefly as the memory of pain darkened them.

Present.

Her mind was caught in another of its endless loops, replaying in vivid, horrfying detail, a number of the 'corrections' she'd endured. Corrections...varying in degree and severity according to whatever offense she'd committed.

At first, Chrys recoiled from Justin's touch, until a modicum of awareness filtered back to her. Familiarity and comfort warmed her, eased her shivering as she curled against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. His whispered words eventually reached her, soothed her further, until she eventually relaxed and remembered how to breathe.

"Al-almost had it this time. Almost con-controlled it." Chrys whispered back, one hand lifting to brush absently at her tear-streaked face.