Wheels within Wheels

[Serena Laran]

Jedi Serena Laran moaned as her stretcher was pushed into the Challenger, people talking and conversation buzzing around her. The dead walked with her, surrounding her and taking them as though to her grave.

"Whatever they had her on it was strong. Its still in her system and she's been off the drip for hours." She was in a brightly lit room, utilitarian and white, and hands were cutting away the clothes the Inquisitors had given her. Serena cried at the indignity of it all, but the blurry faces around her didn't seem to care.

"On three for transfer... one... two... three!" The Jedi was moved from the repulsor gurney to a proper bed, a clean sheet pulled over her for modesty as she was examined. "Lets intubate and ready her for a bacta dip, that should clear up her system quicker than letting her detox. There is minimal scarring from scan interrogation, and she's a little dehydrated..." Serena's eyelids were pulled up and her eyes flashed with a light. "Pupils dilated, she's as high as dren right now."

Another voice, a calm male one who identified himself as Henning, spoke near her ear, quietly talking her through the process of getting a tube put down her throat. In her drugged state she could hardly process it as a numbing spray was applied to her mouth and throat and the breathing tube threaded in. As the mask was fitted to her face Serena flailed her arms, trying to take it off.

"Elevated heart rate - we're going to have to sedate her -"

Darkness descended on her, bringing the dead back as they surrounded her with their choking hands.

[Rev Solomon]

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul."

Serena had emerged from her daily bacta bath, and Solomon had resumed his customary position in the chair by her bedside. In his hands was his beaten, leatherbound copy of the Book of Faith, held open to a heavily creased passage that had seen him through many a trial.

"He guides me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me."

After three days of intensive treatment, the marks of Serena's captivity were beginning to fade from her body, but she was still pale, her eyes and her cheeks still sunken, and she still murmured and stirred fitfully in her unending sleep. Even as the outer scars healed, the inner wounds were deep and fresh, and Solomon was acutely aware of the nightmares that beset her every day. The doctors had told him that familiar company couldn't hurt, and while he wasn't sure how familiar he was to her anymore, he stayed faithfully by her side, praying that he might somehow help her overcome the phantoms of the Inquisitorius.

"Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies, you anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows."

She shifted on her mattress, and when he turned to look at her, he felt his heart jolt - her eyes were open, and she was looking straight back at him. It wasn't the first time; in the past days she had opened her eyes for a few moments, stared with at her surroundings with no hint of recognition, and then sunk back into her restless slumber. But this was different - Solomon felt her moving inside, struggling to shove off the chains that bound her within herself.

The preacher set down his book and took her cold hand in his, desperately trying to rub some warmth back into it. "Doctor? Doctor!"

An orderly trotted over to check her vitals, then hurried off to fetch someone. Solomon stayed and tried to maintain eye contact, hoping against hope that she wasn't just looking through him.

"Come back to us, Serena," he murmured. "You're safe now. It's finished."

[Serena Laran]

The dead were with her still.

Sol rubbed her hand, sitting beside her bed. He looked older than she remembered, but his eyes were unchanged as he gazed into hers. Serena broke the eye contact, looking to the side without moving her head. Where was A'na? And Dremmel, and all the others...

Her throat was sore, and she found her lips to be dry as she opened her mouth just enough to whisper. "Sol..."

His hand tightened on hers, a warm comforting presence. A tear welled up and spilled over onto her cheek. "I knew I would join you some day..." Her voice cracked, and then another person was there, putting a cool hand on her forehead and speaking in soft tones.

"How are you feeling, Serena? Would you like some water?" A cup appeared, and the Jedi frowned, her brow creasing just a bit as she tried to process what was going on. Capable hands helped her sit up a bit as the back of the bed raised her into a slightly more upright position, and she sipped at the water, wetting her tongue and soothing her throat.

The room came into focus - a familiar sight. She was in a medical bay of an Alliance ship. The doctor doting on her was unfamiliar, and the man sitting beside her, holding her hand...

She looked back at the dark skinned man, and was still not sure if she was awake or not. "...How ...can you be ...here?" She pushed her free hand past the cup the doctor was still holding out, and reached out towards his face, trembling.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon moved to clasp her oustretched hand in both of his, rubbing her chilled fingers as if to prove that he wasn't a phantom or a dream.

"Sometimes I still wonder that myself," he said, and he smiled deeply. "It is good to see you back, Serena."

[Serena Laran]

"A Dhia dhílis..." she breathed, her brain falling back to the language she had spent nearly twenty years speaking exclusively while in exile. "Cad é mar..."

Tears welled up in her green eyes, and she squeezed his hand as hard as she could, though she was very weak. "I thought ... you were marbh. Dead." Her forehead creased as she tried to think of the correct words. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry Sol..."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon shook his head - what in the worlds did she have to be sorry about?

"Don't be. It wasn't too far from the truth. What's important is that you're here now. This is home, if you choose it to be. We're not alone anymore."

[Morgan Evanar]

He still had too much to learn from her. Serena had been touch and go for days. The mission, technically, had been successful. They'd retrieved Serena. Their escape was successful. They were all back aboard the Challenger in one piece. But Serena had been heavily drugged, and she wasn't mentally present at all. Her vitals dipped and swayed. Sol stayed by her side, but Morgan could not. It was too much. Morgan stayed just outside the room, barring trips to load up on ration bars and water.

Morgan, normally optimistic and friendly, had been disquieted by the sight of his master in a catatonic state. Someone had taken a smash at his foundation for his new life, and right now he swayed. He wasn't sure how long he had been pacing for before he fell asleep against the wall. Voices woke him. For the first time since she'd arrived in the room, he entered.

"Hey." It was all his beaten brain could manage.

[Serena Laran]

The doctor faded into the background and another figure slowly approached. Tall and thin, hair roughed up as though he'd been running his hands through it... Serena didn't release Sol's hand, but her face lit up with a soft smile. "Morgan. An tusa atá ansin?"

She held out her other hand to her padawan, and he hesitantly came forward and took it. Serena frowned a bit, and added, "Rhianna?"

[Morgan Evanar]

"Chuaigh sí abhaile." Morgan replied, and smiled slightly. He still missed Rhianna, but knew that she would return when the time was right. He gave Serena's hand a delicate squeeze.

"I'm glad you're awake." I'm glad you're alive.

[Rev Solomon]

It was strange to hear Serena speak in an unfamiliar language - but then, Solomon knew precious little about her time after the Purge. They'd been apart far longer than they'd been together, and he was amazed that she'd even recognized him.

He'd also been impressed by Morgan's devotion, not to mention his stamina, which put the preacher's old bones to shame. By rights he should have been the one to greet her when she awoke - a faithful friend and companion rather than a relic from her past.

He shared a brief glance with the lanky padawan, then returned to Serena to ask, "How do you feel?"

[Serena Laran]

"Tired," she said softly, her Basic accented differently than Sol would remember due to her long time in exile. She squeezed both their hands, and then released Morgan's. "I am not in pain though, not any more."

Serena sighed gently, her eyes going from one man to the other. "It is good to be... wherever this is." Her eyebrows knit together in a question. "Where are we?"

[Morgan Evanar]

"A secret Alliance flotilla. It's called The Wheel. We're on board the Challenger." Even in the medbay, the walls bore the gentlest of curves that marked their Mon Calamari nature. It was strange to see her like this, slow, not from patience but from complications. Every action and word seemed to be a measured test to see how far she could push herself.

[Barton Henning]

Barton lingered just beyond the threshold ofthe med-bay. Although the medical staff aboard the Challenger had taken charge of Serena's recovery, Henning couldn't help but feel a sense of duty towards the Jedi Master, something bordering on the familial. In her weakened state, he was mindful that yet another presence might be confusing to Serena and he considered leaving, satisfied in the knowledge that Serena's condition was improving – but a glance from Morgan Evanar told the doctor that his arrival had not gone unnoticed. He smiled tightly and nodded to the trio, pacing a few steps into the room.

“It's good to see you again, Master Laran.”

[Serena Laran]

She took in Morgan's explanation silently, her eyes straying constantly to the man sitting beside her holding her hand. Another man walked into her line of sight, and she recognized him from Bespin. Seeing him triggered another memory, one from her time with the Inquisitorate.

"Dr. Henning... is James Prent here? With the Jedi?" She closed her eyes lightly, and shook her head a little. "I am sorry, but the ...people who were holding me... they said she had been captured with me. But I sensed they had been lying... I hoped they were lying."

[Barton Henning]

“She's not here, but I don't think she's with the Empire either. James was the one who got word to us (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=20907) that you'd been captured. Wherever she is – whoever she's with – she's playing her sabacc hand close to her chest. Said she thought she was being followed.”

She'd had a tough life of it and Barton hoped for her sake that it was only paranoia she was feeling, but it was almost certainly too much to hope for.

[Serena Laran]

She shuddered with relief, not quite able to achieve her normal 'Jedi calm.' "Thank the Force. I..." Something else in her memory twinged, and she looked up at Morgan with a pained expression.

"Rhianna ... I fear I have betrayed her people to the Empire." Serena rubbed her temples with her free hand. "They pressed to know where I lived for so long. I cannot remember exactly... but I think... I think I told them."

She plucked at the sheet covering her, as if she would climb out of the bed, her feet moving fitfully. "I should go. They are my responsibility." Serena looked at Sol, meeting his brown eyes, and then sank back against her pillow, tears filling her eyes. "Everything is so confusing."

[Morgan Evanar]

"The good news is that Rhianna moved her clan as soon as I left." Morgan smiled a little. "And she didn't tell me where they were going. You'll make sense of it soon, but only after you get some rest. You'd have a hard time swinging a lightsaber if you were strapped to my back." Morgan said and yawned. Now that he knew Serena would be on her feet eventually, the tired hit him. He wanted a shower, even a sonic one, and his slice of a room that were his quarters.

For now, he would stay until she fell asleep or was instructed to leave. What was another few hours?

[Rev Solomon]

"You should listen to your padawan," Solomon said. "It's time for you to rest. Goodness knows you've earned it."

He saw the tear spilling down her cheek, and he leaned over to brush it aside with his free hand.

"It's over, Serena," he whispered. "The fear and the pain are nothing but memories now. Open your mind to me. Let me take them for a few hours. Sleep, free of dreams and free of doubt."

[Serena Laran]

She nodded hesitantly, blinking away more tears, and did as Sol asked. Serena closed her eyes, laying back against her pillow as her body relaxed. It was difficult to let down her guard, but his presence was unmistakable and it soothed her.

One by one the blocks fell, and she opened her mind up to him... and fell asleep. For the first time in weeks there were no nightmares.

****

The next time she woke she was out of the infirmary, tucked into a bed outfitted with crisp white sheets and a blue coverlet. The room was small and spare, and empty.

Serena lay there for a moment, only her eyes moving, and then she pushed herself up on her elbows, scooting into a semi-upright position. Nothing else in the room changed, and she could feel the hum of a ship's hyperspace engines reverberating gently through the bulkhead behind her. She felt rested, and she moved a bit, testing her muscles. The atrophy of sickness was gone, but she was still weaker than normal.

There was a comm embedded in the nightstand beside her, but the door opened before she could stretch towards it, admitting one person.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon stood framed in the doorway, blocking most of garish light from the white corridors of the Challenger. He had something small and cylindrical in his hand.

He saw Serena prop herself on her elbows, and a sheepish look passed over his face. "Oh... I hope I didn't wake you."

[Serena Laran]

"No, I was awake." Her throat was dry, but her voice seemed normal enough. Serena stared at him, still marveling at seeing him, alive, after so many years. Decades, even. He had changed... matured. The galaxy had weathered him, but she still knew him instantly.

"I can't believe that you are alive." She patted the bed beside her leg, inviting him to come further inside the room.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon stepped inside and let the door slide shut behind him. He eased down into the chair beside Serena's bed.

"You're looking better," he said. "More color to your cheeks. I, uh..."

He turned over the little cylinder in his hand. The top was narrower than the base and had spiraled vents cut into it.

"The air gets stale on these old ships. I've been told this can help. It's Chandrilan lily." He pressed a button on top of the device, and a fan inside began to turn almost silently. The effect on the room was subtle, but pleasant. Within seconds it smelled more like the Chandrila countryside in spring and less like a metal closet in the belly of a Clone Wars battleship.

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan quietly rapped on the metal entryway's corner and counted to five before rounding it.

"I brought breakfast." He smiled. Serena had to started to look more herself. She exuded more calm. Morgan carried a tray with two plates, one much larger than the other. Also present were two large bottles, two cups, a full compliment of utensils, various condiments and sealed containers full of food. It looked like enough food for four people.

[Serena Laran]

"It smells lovely," she murmured, feeling a little shy and slightly disappointed as Solomon chose to sit in one of the chairs in the room, pulling it up next to the bed.

As Morgan entered, she smelled the food he carried, and her stomach responded with a growl. Serena smiled, "I think you got here just in time... I feel like I haven't eaten in days."

As she thought about it, perhaps she hadn't eaten in days, not by mouth anyway. She looked from the young man to the older on beside her and said, "I'm sure you know each other already. Morgan Evanar, my padawan, and Sol Iman... an old friend."

[Rev Solomon]

A part of Solomon was annoyed by the intrusion, but he put that part away someplace quiet for the time being. It had been almost thirty years since he'd last seen Serena; he couldn't rightly stake a better claim to her time than her own padawan. Especially when Morgan had the sense to bring scrambled eggs and bantha bacon.

"Morgan is a credit to his master," Solomon said, laying his hand over Serena's. "I always knew you'd make a good teacher."

He rose from his seat to help Morgan with the food, and then he saw something that made him stop short in longing. "Are those... Corellian hotcakes?"

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan paused from his partitioning of the food. Morgan looked up at Sol. Sol's eyes had a twinkle that wasn't there before, and his gaze was affixed on the hotcakes, of which there was a pair of ten-high stacks of relatively consistent radii. In a galaxy of hotcakes, these were distinctly medium sized. Bigger than Corellian Credit Coins, but smaller than a plate obscuring monster.

"Yeah. I made 'em." Morgan said with a bit of a grin. He'd remembered his Mom's recipe, a practical mix of pre-made and fresh ingredients.

"You want some?" Does the man in the desert want water? Morgan cleared off a lid, and stuck four of the flat cakes onto it.

[Serena Laran]

Serena shook her head at Sol's compliment. "Morgan is extremely gifted. He would make any teacher look good." She smiled at her padawan, and added, "As I am recovering, I think I will be able to do some teaching still, even if I am bedridden per doctor's orders."

She accepted plate of food, but found she was full after just a few bites.

[Serena Laran]

Sol and Morgan's visit was short, so as not to overly tire her, though she wished one of them had stayed with her. However, Serena quickly fell back asleep, waking only when a no nonsense female doctor came in to check her vitals, and for her meals.

Sleep was a refuge that it had not been in the final weeks of her imprisonment. Even the wonder and hope of Sol's return from the dead was not enough to keep her awake for long, and as the ship's chrono turned to night she was again sleeping peacefully in her bed.

[Wyl Staedtler]

Sleep was a bitter, unrelenting cage meant to force a body to submit to it's most vulnerable position and Wyl Staedtler wasn't giving in. That he was tired, the hours of a long day condensing into a thick sludge that seemed to inch through his veins like so much murky water, bore little relevance to the situation. During slumber the mind had an alarming tendency come unmoored and let loose things best left tied below the surface, raising a clattering symphony of discordant impressions and memories and the soft brush of feelings too faint to even put into words. It wasn't happening tonight.

And there was a silly thought: who decided when it was night in space? Certainly not any internal light-dark cycle, because no matter what the chrono said the viewport always looked the same - a vast dark blanket of possibility woven through with glittering gems. What if what was meant to be evening was actually noon? How would they ever really tell? Everything might be completely flipped upside-down and no one would be the wiser because how could you prove it without going planetside to a designated control point?

Wyl yawned quietly and shifted in the seat next to Serena's bed, his chin resting on the edge of the mattress while he watched her chest rise and fall evenly. She drew fifteen breaths every minute; he'd been counting. Now they were up to 930 but still the Knight slept on, as steadily as though she had never existed in any other state.

But she was breathing. That was what he was concerned with.

[Serena Laran]

She wasn't sure what woke her up - not a nightmare but perhaps a remembered echo of one - but she opened her eyes and she was back in her cabin on board the Challenger. It was dark, just a small light on near the door to keep it from complete darkness.

Serena struggled with the blankets a moment, rolling over to a new position, and then she reached out a hand toward a familiar looking lump at the side of the bed. It sat up and took her hand in both off it's own, and she touched the light controls with the Force, raising the brightness in the room just enough that they could see each other better.

"Wyl," she smiled from her pillow, on her side facing him. "I am so glad to see you."

[Wyl Staedtler]

"I didn't mean to wake you," Wyl explained in an earnest whisper. The low amber wash of light and the hushed aura of the medbay seemed to demand a certain stillness, one that didn't come naturally to the boy but which he was trying with a visible upheaval of effort to employ. There was more than just deference to the healing Jedi Knight at play, too, for somewhere in the sterile halls lurked that red-headed doctor who always looked like she was about two eye twitches away from hurling him out the nearest airlock and that was during open hours. Silence - or at least stifled sound - was imperative to survival.

With a creased brow, Wyl freed Serena's hand from his own and bent double in his chair, rummaging around at his feet. When his body unfolded it came with a reusable duraplast bottle of water and with the aid of a sleeve it's sports cap top was wiped clean of invisible germs.

"Here," Wyl said. He held the bottle out in offering. "I had a little bit but I didn't backwash, I swear."

[Serena Laran]

Serena's smile grew wider, and she accepted the gift from the boy, dutifully sipping the water before handing it back. "Thank you, Wyl."

She adjusted her position a bit, getting an arm under her pillow to prop herself up a little bit more, but felt too tired to sit up. "You did not wake me up, so don't worry." She sighed, closing her eyes briefly before a flash of a corpsified A'na Eldhil on her eyelids made her open them.

Serena focused on the boy. "How have you been doing? Still studying hard I hope?"

[Wyl Staedtler]

Wyl frowned but it wasn't out of guilty conscience. There was a stale twist to the tumbling energy in the room and it radiated out of Serena, a faint imprint of disquiet that made his skin feel brushed with a coldness. Again he reached out, covering her delicate hand with his own warm palm.

He nodded dutifully and offered a compromise in answer. "M'learning a lot."

That most of those lessons were gained in unconventional manner didn't need stating; he'd known Serena for years now and there was no need to elaborate.

"How are you?" Wyl whispered, leaning closer to scrutinize her face with worried eyes of a piercing blue like high-noon skies.

[Serena Laran]

Her mouth twisted in a sad smile. "I am much better. You should not worry about me." Serena turned her hand a little, holding Wyl's hand gently. To be honest, she wasn't sure she could have squeezed it if she wanted.

His eyes didn't look convinced, and she rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "Can't sleep?" She scooted over as best she could, freeing up a little space and patting the bed next to her.

[Wyl Staedtler]

He answered with a shake of his head and gladly clambered up, moving carefully rather than vaulting with his usual fearlessness. The mattress dipped under the additional weight and Wyl eased back carefully, trying not to bump against Serena in case he somehow hurt her. Hurt her worse, rather.

"M'not tired." Wyl hitched a shoulder up casually and toed at his boots until they fell to the floor with a duo of dull thunks. "It's not very late, anyway. And I was worried about you so it seemed like a good idea to come and check that they're treating you well."

A brief silence fell between them and Wyl concentrated on matching his breath to Serena's, worried that even his alternating inhales would cause him to press against her side too harshly.

"How much is 'much better'?" he asked quietly, a moment later.

[Serena Laran]

He was a comforting weight next to her, and Serena put her arm around him, her face snuggled into his unruly brown mop of hair. "Much better is more than a little, and less than completely well."

He wiggled a little, but seemed to be trying to stay as still as he could. Serena took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I was very sick. And I am still not well. But I am better. The doctors just want to keep an eye on me, and I need a lot of rest."

[Wyl Staedtler]

He turned that over in his head, a quiet fear rising unbidden in his chest like a swelling pocket of air, a caught breath. There were different manners of wellness and they weren't mutually exclusive - one could be whole and mended down to the very marrow of one's bones, and yet still broken.

Wyl picked at the blanket, removing bits of gathered fuzz, and carefully ferried them off the edge of the bed. "And you're sleeping alright, not just lots? Because sometimes doctors don't really bother to find out, um, those sorts of things. Just so long as you are sleeping they think it's stellar, sometimes, because most of the time they're very good with bodies but not people."

[Serena Laran]

Serena couldn't help but smile into his hair. Such wisdom in one so young, but Wyl had seen more in his short years than most did their whole lives. "Thankfully this is not just a ship of doctors, there are other Jedi here as well. I am sleeping well. No nightmares."

She gave him a gentle squeeze. "More than I can say for you, out of your bed at this hour."

[Wyl Staedtler]

A soft chuff of bashful air escaped the boy's lips, curled into a faint smile.

"I don't have nightmares either," he said. It wasn't a lie, entirely. Unsettling shapes of thoughts that disappeared like mist couldn't be counted as nightmares, really. "M'just nocturnal. It's a gift, if you think about it. Because I can be more industrial. Or..." Wyl frowned. "That's not the right word. But you know what I mean. You get more done if you only sleep a little. Unless you're hurt or ill and need to sleep, that is."

[Serena Laran]

"Mmm," she murmured in agreement, her eyes closing. The child was a comforting presence beside her, warm against her body and something real in her room. Serena yawned.

"I'm sure that is true," she said softly, aware of a slight touch of the Force coming from the boy, soothing her mind and allowing her to slip gently back towards sleep. No doubt a subconscious working of his abilities... or perhaps something Daria had taught him...

Serena's eyes closed and her breathing deepened and slowed as she fell asleep.

[Lowrook]

== Elsewhere on the Challenger ==

Lowrook stalked through the corridors of the Challenger. To say that he stood out was like saying Darth Vader was peeved. Most ships of the line weren't make with Wookies in mind. Still, he didn't have to duck his head to get between bulkheads. While most Jedi were over on the Whaladon, Lowrook was here with the rest of the strike team that had just gotten back from Coruscant. Though the Whaladon was large, it wasn't like the Challenger. The Challenger reminded him of the Old Republic and when he was a jedi before he was frozen in carbonite... before the Empire.

So here he was, curious about the jedi they saved from the Empire... and to see what they would do next.

(just trying to get back into simming and found this open thread - tag anyone)

[Wyl Staedtler]

"Mmm," she murmured in agreement, her eyes closing. The child was a comforting presence beside her, warm against her body and something real in her room. Serena yawned.

"I'm sure that is true," she said softly, aware of a slight touch of the Force coming from the boy, soothing her mind and allowing her to slip gently back towards sleep. No doubt a subconscious working of his abilities... or perhaps something Daria had taught him...

Serena's eyes closed and her breathing deepened and slowed as she fell asleep.


He waited patiently while Serena's breath settled into a rhythm, shifting from the thin cresting whorls of conscious dozing and into a heavier, more veiled cadence that came with real sleep. It didn't take long - he could feel the woman's exhaustion like a congregation of pebbles on the edge of his senses, clattering together and pulled to and fro on a tide. Serena didn't even twitch when he brushed a small palm down one soft cheek, fingers lightly tracing the contours of her face.

After a time it became clear that she was soundly wrapped in a different world. Wyl moved slowly, mindful not to jostle the Jedi as he eased down off the bed and retrieved shoes. He tugged them on, then took the water bottle from beneath the sheets where it had slipped and set it on the table within easy reach, where Serena would see it if she woke.

"Goodnight," Wyl whispered, just in case sound from this side could still pierce through the veil of slumber. With one last glance to make sure that she was still there, the boy stole away to return to his chambers.