The Odd Couple (Dasquain)

[Sejah Haversh]

It had been nearly a month since he woke up from his coma, and Sejah was nowhere nearer to recovery than he had been on the first day. Oh, sure he could think clearly again, and read again, but physically he was still clumsy, and couldn't feel or move his legs at all.

Before the coma, Sejah and Dasquain had a rather ambivalent relationship in their living arrangements. They shared a three-person room, one of the largest in the Living Quarters, and things usually went decently well. Dasquain was a bit of a neat freak by Sejah's tastes, and he himself lived vcery much like a bachelor, which caused the occasional argument or discussion on how the apartment should be kept. Sejah's usual neglecting to make his bed, or clean up the bathroom were often the reasons for confrontation, but for the most part, they got along. Just as long as Dasquain didn't make the tea that Sejah said smelled like roasting a week-dead fish basted in sock sweat. Evidently it only offended the mongoose's olefactory senses, as everybode else seemed to like it.

But things had changed. Confined to his walking frame, Sejah had great difficulty doing even the most common of household tasks, and his part of the apartment was rapidly becoming shambles. Dasquain had been good about it so far, knowing that Sejah was temporarily disabled, but tension was beginning to build between them, especually as Sejah began to sink into a grouchy depression, and seemed to have no desire to do anything anymore.

It was on such a day that Sejah was sitting on the couch, drinking a soda and watching television. Two empty soda bottles lay next to his footpaws, and a half-empty bag of potato chips sat on the next cushion over by his side. He hadn't done much of anything that day, and even though there was nothing on worth watching, he also had no plans of getting up anytime soon.

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian went past the TV screen once.

“You should eat something better than potato chips, Sejah.”

There was the crinkle of the bag, and then Dasquian dipped past the screen again.

“They can’t be helping you.”

A third time, this time to scoop up the cans.

“Neither can these. Even if you are off your feet, you should try to keep a healthy lifestyle.”

Finally, he just stopped right in front of the screen.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you something?”

[Sejah Haversh]

If it wasn't the normal nagging, it was the reltentless, unstoppable super-nagging that drove Sejah nuts.

Cramming a pawful of potato chips into his mouth defiantly, Sejah tried to look around Dasquain, but he moved to block the view no matter what angle Sejah tried.

His face miffed, the mongoose grumbled, "You're going to make me reprogram this frame to kick you if you don't get out of the way."

[Dasquian Belargic]

Glancing back and realizing where he was stood, the Knight took a step to the left, clearing the view of whatever was playing on the screen. Trash, probably. That’s all it ever seemed to be.

“You’ll regret all of this once you’re able to walk again, you know? You’ll have to spend weeks just catching up, loosing all of these pity pounds.”

[Sejah Haversh]

Sejah just shook his head and replied, "Hey, at this rate, I'm never going to walk again, so don't give me that lecture. And you didn't grow up hoping you'll have a next meal, okay? Maybe I wouldn't mind finally being able to be a little pudgy, huh? I mean, it's not like I've done anythign here at the order that's required me to be in shape yet anyhow."

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian exhaled sharply and, it seemed, with deliberate force.

“A defeatist attitude like that will do you no good.”

The Knight disappeared away, but his footsteps could still be heard within the room. He hadn’t left. Yet.

[Sejah Haversh]

"I didn't ask for this, you know," he called out so Dasquain could hear him. "And I sure don't see you offering to help any. If it were you in this thing I don't think I'd be nagging you all the time."

[Dasquian Belargic]

Once again, his foot falls came towards Sejah.

“We cannot act as crutches for you, Sejah. You must overcome this hurdle by yourself. By helping you, we would in fact only be slowing your recovery, as you became more and more used to others doing for you what you yourself should be doing.”

[Sejah Haversh]

Sejah commanded his frame to stand up, and he moved toward Dasquain, a sneer on his muzzle. "Oh, and I suppose that means I shouldn't babysit your daughter for you while you're out, because that makes me one of your crutches, dosen't it?"

Before Dasquain could answer, Sejahheld up a paw to wave him off, and headed to the kitchenette to rummage through the cabinets. "Listen, I'm not any happier about this than you are, but I'm sick of you always telling me what I'm doing wrong, or what I should be doing instead. I'm twenty-seven, and lived a completely differet life than you, so maybe I found a way that works for me. You ever think of that?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

He didn’t say anything for a while, but eventually Dasquian nodded very slightly.

“Very well then, Sejah. You won’t hear another word from me about it. I won’t interfere any further,” he said as he paced past one of the rooms table, scooping up a book from it and retreating to a chair in the corner.

[Sejah Haversh]

The guilt was instant, and Sejah set down the orange he had just picked up, but didn't bother to put down the steak knife he intended to peel it with.

His voice was softer, and he fumbled for an apology. "Das, you know I didn't mean it like that. It's just that... I can't do anything that I used to witout this stupid frame, and all my life training with a sword now feels wasted. I'm just pissed off at myself and I took it out on you."

[Dasquian Belargic]

“It’s fine, really, Sejah. I understand.”

Dasquian didn’t look up, but instead kept his eyes fixed firmly on the book. He didn’t want to make a fuss and drama over it all anymore than he already had done.

“I really don’t mind you letting out a bit of stress around me. You’ve been touchy lately and its better for you to get it out in a safe environment than letting your temper get the best of you somewhere that it could cause some harm… the bar and grill or some such.”

[Sejah Haversh]

"Oh, because we all know about my famous temper," Sejah snorted, quite indignant that Dasquain would even try to bring up something like that. If anything, sejah was a peaceful guy, and never really exhibited any kind of temper.

He turned back and started to peel his orange, doing a particularily awful job of it at that. "Das, I'm thinking about inviting a friend over on Friday night. Think you might be able to let me have the aparment to myself then?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Friday night?”

Dasquian looked around for a moment, as though he was going to protest, but held back whatever he was thinking.

“Sure. What time do you want me- us- out by?”

[Sejah Haversh]

"Seven o'clock," Sejah replied, then accidentally nicked his thumb on the sharp knife blade. "I've invited her over for dinner and such, so, I'm also going to need your help cleaning the place up," he said before sucking on his bleeding thump to halt the bloodflow.

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian just nodded, and looked back to see the way Sejah was struggling with what he was doing.

Pushing his book aside, he stood up.

“Here, let me do that or you’re going to end up cutting your whole paw off.”

[Sejah Haversh]

Sejah pulled away, offended. "Excuse me? I can do this myself, I know how to handle a dang knife. I did did the frelling Rho-istaan fencing tournament, you know."

[Dasquian Belargic]

Apparently he had touched yet another raw nerve. It didn’t occur to Dasquian that he should quit while he was ahead, and so he just kept on digging himself a deeper hole.

“I’m not debating your abilities with a sword, Sejah. It simply appears to me that, for someone who isn’t quite stable on their feet, peeling an orange with a butcher’s knife isn’t the best idea.”

[Sejah Haversh]

"My feet don't have anything to do with my paws, Dasquain," Sejah snapped back, cutting off another hunk of peel, not even blinking as the peel dropped to the floor by accident. "And this is a steak knife, not a butcher's knife. Maybe you'd know that if you cooked once in a while."

[Dasquian Belargic]

Back down, he thought.

“If I cooked more often,” he said, as he turned and took a few paces back to the chair.

“I’m afraid we’d all end up with food poisoning.”

He chuckled to himself, albeit weakly. It was true. There was a time when he had been good in the kitchen, but now his focus and talents had been turned elsewhere.

[Sejah Haversh]

Sejah just continued to mangle his orange in frustration, eventually hacking off enough of the peel to make it edible on one side. Taking a bite, he chewed it unceromiously and then looked back to Das.

"We did, onshe," Sejah minded him around a mouthful, remembering a time back when Dasquain first moved in when they both got sick after eating his cooking. Looking at his orange again, Sejah scowled and tossed the rest of it in the trash. It was old, and bitter, having been in the fridge too long. "Dang it!" he muffled a spat of anger, "All that work and it's not even worth it. Can't we have anything work out right in this place?" Opening the fridge, Sejah scowled again as it was nearly empty, save for a few more old oranges in the crisper drawer. "I thought you said you were going to go to the supermarket yesterday," he called back from in the kitchen.

[Dasquian Belargic]

“I didn’t have time,” he called back, sitting down on the arm of the chair.

“The Council was in a meeting all of the morning and I had to deal with the recruitments after that. I’ve barely got a spare minute now, what with trying to juggle Padawan’s too.”

[Sejah Haversh]

"I guess I'll go then," Sejah muttered, closing the refrigerator door. "Have you seen my bus schedule? I haven't seen it in a while. Gar, I hope you didn't throw it out when you threw out my tax files the other day."

[Dasquian Belargic]

“I threw out your tax files? Sorry, I had a lot of paperwork and I just pushed everything from the table aside.”

Things had certainly been hectic. Palm against his eyes, Dasquian rolled his shoulders and sighed beneath his breath. His priorities were all ill-balanced. He’d gotten involved in too many things and left himself with no time to do the simple things in life.

Without thinking, he added, “Could you drop by the electronics store for me while you’re out, then? I need a part for one of the droids… something about the propulsion motors in Astromechs. I’m sure the owner will know what you mean.”

[Sejah Haversh]

Sejah sighed and placed his paws on the counter, hanging his head.

"Yeah, I'll get it," he said, then lpushed off, using one paw to angle his control stick back to move his walking frame. Carrying things was extremely difficlut with the frame, for balance was shifted,a nd the frame wouldn't compentsate for it.

"What part is it that you need? Better yet, write it down. I don't know anything about that mechanical stuff. Anything else we need?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Hmn… what was it,” Dasquian scooped up a pen and a bit of paper.

“T… T… T something,” he scribbled something down, “T120, I think. It’s not that big a part. Cylindrical I think. I’m pretty sure the store owner has a couple behind the counter ready for me to pick up.”

Smiling, he held out the note.

“Thanks for this, by the way. Anything I can do to return the favor?”

[Sejah Haversh]

Sejah took the note and stuffed it in his pocket, then looked across the room to a ratty old jacket that was half-visible in a pile of his stuff by his bed. "You could start by tossing me my jacket," he said.

Even though he knew it looked awful, and that he had enough money to buy a new one, it was a present from his mom, and he had had it since his teens, and loved it.

(Feel free to somehow ruin it, that'll get him steamed.)

[Dasquian Belargic]

He paced over, pen still in hand, and pulled the jacket out from the clothes it was pinned beneath. It was then, without realizing it, that he did something that he would inevitably regret. He held the two things in the same hand as he moved back towards Sejah, and as he went to hold out the jacket saw that somehow the ink from the pen had managed to leak all over the fabric.

“Oh… dear.”

[Sejah Haversh]

Sejah's pink eyes went wide, and his mouth hung agape at the huge ink stain on his favorite jacket. For a short while, all he could do was stand there and stare at it, but slowly his eyes narrowed, and became darker in color as he looked into Dasquain's eyes.

"It's ruined," he said, his voice still suprised, but starting to show signs of anger. "Dang it, Dasquain! My mom gave me that coat, and now you've ruined it!" The brown mongoose's irises now blazed red and he half-snarled his words. "I knew you hated it, but, that was low. Frell! Why don't you just come out and say it? Say how you're sick of how my side of the room is always a mess. Sick of my music, and me watching TV. Sick of having to share a room with me, an uneducated slob! I know you think it! I can see it on your face! But, remember, you chose to be here! I offered to let you in after your fallout with Xazor, and I even tried to protect you from Terran, which wound me up in this piece of crap frame! But I never disrespected you, Dasquain, and I bent over backwards to make sure you felt welcome here, and tried to be your friend."

Snatching the jacket from him, Sejah looked at the stain and snarled, wadding the coat up and hurling it back across the room. "Frell it! I'm going for some air!" he snapped, turning to head to the door. He was angry. Very, very angry, though most of his anger was actually at himself.

(Okay, if you've got something good, zing him. And I mean ZING him. Sejah has a lot of pent-up frustration, and needs to explode.)

[Dasquian Belargic]

In spite of his mistake, and guilt for it, the Knight couldn’t stop his next actions. Perhaps it was actually the guilt making him act as such, erasing a little of his rationality.

“I thought I told you to watch that temper,” Dasquian blurted.

“Anger will solve nothing.”

[Sejah Haversh]

There would be no calming Sejah down, and his eyes boiled red with fury.

"It makes me feel better, so I'd say that's something, skinboy!" He snarled, his fists balled at his sides. As he maneuvered the frame forrwad he shoved Dasquain back a step as he moved into his face.

"Since when do you get off thinking you're so high and mighty, Belargic? We got here at the same time, and you can't say I haven't put just as much work into my trainign as you have into yours. But look at you, you're a knight, and on the Coincil, and I'm a padawan on my third frelling master!" Sejah shoved Dasquain again, backing him toward a wall.

"It's because you're human, or at least close enough to it, I know it is. I've been passed over by most everybody here while you skin monkeys keep flying to the top. Well, I'm sick of it. I'm frelling sick of it! If I weren't in this frame, I would be able to beat you in a fight and you know it! Garfife!" The brown-furred mongoose was purely livid, and blew his top as the frame stumbled as he tried to step back, making him struggle for balance.

"Gar! I hate this piece of crap!" he shouted, absent-mindedly slamming his fist down against his thigh, not remembering that his paw was still wrapped around the blade of a steak knife. He realized it almost immediately as his paw didn't bounce off his thigh, but stuck there instead. His jaw hanging open, Sejah slowly looked down to see the knife embedded to the handle in his leg, and a steady flow of blood rapidly soaking his paw and pantleg. "Oh.....crud...." He barely managed before gritting his teeth together and lettign go of the knife, looking at it jammed in like a tack in the wall. By accident, he hit the backstep lever on his frame, and went over onto his rear, his face suddenly twisting in pain.

"Ouch! Friggin'.... ouch!" He spoke through clenched jaws, his paws trying to apply pressure around the wound to staunch the flow of blood. It wasn't even dawning on him that he could feel his legs, something he hadn't been able to do since waking from his coma. That fact onyl came to hima s hr tried to pull his other leg up to brace himself,a nd it actually worked on its own, though heavily hampered by his frame. "Das, I'm sorry, just.... just call a medic, please!"

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian took a moment to move from the wall, frozen in shock. The sight of the blood pulled him out of his paralysis, however, and he quickly rushed to the room’s communications unit and patched through to the med bay. With the team on their way, he knelt down at Sejah’s side. Anything that he might have protested before was out of his mind, as he lifted the Padawan’s paw and tried desperately to focus.

“Come on, come on…”

Brow furrowing, his teeth were grit as he tried to heal over the wound, even just a little. Unfortunately it was not his strong area – his training with Navaria on the matter had been cut short. Luckily, they weren’t far from the medical team and within a couple of minutes they had arrived.

“Agh… I’m sorry about this Sejah.”

[Sejah Haversh]

The blade had pierced deep, but fortunately missed his major arteries, instead just hacking through muscle and nearly clipping the bone. It hurt like mad, as all the feeling in his legs returned, and they shouted out at him for being too tightly strapped into his frame, and he could tell that they were heavily bruised now. A tear rolled down his left cheek as he tried to keep from crying, the pain was so intense.

When Dasquain knelt beside him, Sejah's left paw gripped the hem of his shirt, not wanting him to leave, and he let his roomate pry his other paw, now bloodsoaked, from the handle of the knife. "I can feel it, Das," he managed through his clenched teeth. "I can feel my legs again. They work."

That was about all he could say before the medics arrived and quickly stripped him of his walking frame before hurriedly placing him on a stretcher and rushing him off to the medical bay, Dasquain following closely behind, his shirt still bearing Sejah's bloody pawprint. It only took a matter of minutes for the doctors to anesthitise his leg, and remove the knife. Bacta salve was applied into the wound, and it was stiched shut with synth skin afterwards to seal it. Sejah was still amazed by the wonders of modern medicine, and let his head lay back against the pillow on the operating table as the painkillers started to get to his brain.

"I'm sorry, Dasquain," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to yell like that,.."

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian watched quietly as the medics worked their magic. Even the greatest Jedi healers didn’t seem to be able to match them in speed and efficiency when they were working on a patient. The Jedi Knight, when given the okay by the staff, sat down by the bed and sighed. Back to square one, he thought, Sejah in the hospital, and it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have argued like that, he thought…

“You can feel your legs now,” he said, his thoughts remaining his own, as he gazed off into the mid-distance.

“That’s excellent.”

[Sejah Haversh]

My, the curtains danced nicely in the breeze from outside. That was the thought running through sejah's head as the drugs hit him. The medics didn't know it, but painkillers in a Nehantite's system acted almost like a halucinogenic, and they had given Sejah more than he had actually needed. His brain unable to focus on a subject for very long, Sejah had to fight to try and keep on topic.

"Das," he managed, sounding a little groggy. "I, I think you're going to have to the store after all. When the walls start moving, I know that's my cue to stay put."

In his heart, he wanted to really apologize for some of the things he had said, but he found it difficult because he had really and truly meant most of them, only had supressed them for quite some time.

[Dasquian Belargic]

At this, he couldn't help but chuckle. He gave the Nehantite a gentle pat on the paw.

"Alright. You get yourself some rest and I'll see you later on, okay?"

He had been about to wait for a reply from Sejah, but he seemed to have gotten lost in the pattern of the rooms wallpaper. Rising up to his feet, he smiled and turned to leave, for the store. It was a good few hours later when he returned to their quarters, with everything picked up. His tight schedule had slipped his mind for the time being, as he filled up a few of the cupboards with what they had needed.

After this, he decided he would go and check on Sejah, and ducked into the med ward, glancing about for his friend.

[Sejah Haversh]

When Dasquain returned, he found sejah sitting up in bed with a remote control in his paw. A large swath of bandages has been wrapped around his right leg, which was also missing its pantleg from his jeans as well. When he heard his door open, Sejah pulled his attention away from the holovision set and smiled weakly.

"Hey there, stranger," he greeted his roomate. The grogginess and other side effects of the pain killers was gone, and it showed that he was still in pain, but he was fighting it back, and doing an admirable job of it. Clicking the holovision off, Sejah set his remote aside and pointed to the remnants of his frame on the floor beside him, and then wiggled all his toes. "They work again. Pretty weak, but they work. Docs said I should wait until you got back before I tried walking again, though. Gave me a cane, too."

He was avoiding therir argument, and had a feeling Dasquain might do the same, even though there were some issues that they would need to confront now that they had been pulled out in the open. Still, it was nice to focus on the positive for the time being.

[Dasquian Belargic]

The old saying that someone had 'been in the wars' really applied to Sejah, but Dasquian felt that his battle was just about over. He'd gone through a lot, but was progressing well, and hopefully from now on things could only get better.

"Want to try it out then?" he asked, nodding towards the cane.

[Sejah Haversh]

Hauling hismelf to a sitting position on the side of the bed with his arms, Sejah tennatively let his legs slip over the side and dangle just above the floor. They ached, and he could feel the heavy bruises his frame had been causing deep in his muscles, but the sheer ability to move on his own again outweighed any pain.

His pink eyes turned back to Dasquain and he nodded, "Yeah, I better." Das passed him the cane, and Sejah gripped it tightly with his right paw while easing himself down to the floor. It was cold, a sensation he hadn't been able to feel through his footpaws in some time. With great care, and a pained clench of his jaw, the brown mongoose pushed off from the bed and leaned forward, bearing his weight on the cane, and on his legs that had atrophied during months of non-use. The pressure on them seemed unbrearable at first, but once sejah came to a full--yet shaky--stand, he breathed easier.

Braving the pain from his knife wound, Sejah lifted one footpaw and moved it forward to take a step, but his legs were so out of practice that he immediately started to fall to one side, and his eyes widened as he knew he was going to fall. "Das?!" he called out, slightly panicking as he continued to overbalance.

[Dasquian Belargic]

With at first panic, Dasquian two-stepped sideways to catch the precarious Padawan. Mirth quickly overtook his shock as he righted Sejah and smiled at him, "Perhaps we should slow down a little?" he asked, giving his friend a light pat on the shoulder. Carefully as could be, the Knight stepped backwards and gave a nod of encouragement as Sejah took another more confident step forward.

"You don't really believe what you said earlier, do you?" he asked after a while, concern returning to his expression, "About your being discriminated against…"

[Sejah Haversh]

Sejah's second step was easier, but he still struggled to keep his balance, his arms flailing a little before coming to a stop. The mongoose leaned against a countertop to keep himself standing, and he looked back to Dasquain.

"I..." he started, then stopped, thinking over what he wanted to say. "Yes, I do," he finally managed to say, then held up a paw to keep Dasquain from interrupting too early. "Dasquain, I've been here for a year and a half, and I've had three different masters. None of them have seemed to find time to help me, but I constantly hear about their helping others. I see humans, or at least humanoids come here, and they are taken in immedately, and a master is assigned them in most cases their first day. It took three months for me to get a master, while many others got theirs far faster at the same time. I've seen most all my friends knighted long ago, and my skills are only at the level of a newcomer."

He was getting angry at himself, and it was evident in his voice. "The only frelling thing I've actually learned here is how to read, and I tought myself that. I can't do telepathy, that's what wound me up in that coma, and when I try telekenesis, things explode. Look at me now, I can't hardly walk. Tell me, what was the benefit of my coming here? Name one person who is actually glad that I'm here, and is willing to help me without asking for something in return."

[Dasquian Belargic]

"I know I'm not always the most reliable of people… my priorities in life have been skewed as of late… but I would help you, Sejah. I hope you don't feel as though I am one of the people who do not see you as an equal. You should not see anyone in that light, but I understand why you do. You have not had the most luck with your tutors, that is certain, and I'm afraid all that can be attributed to is bad judge of character. You were mismatched and taken on by those who did not understand your own methods. Others were lucky enough to be given Masters who understood them."

Dasquian paused, and tried to think of how he could draw the rapidly digressing point back to its original subject.

"No one ever said being a Jedi would be easy. It's the complete opposite. You've experienced this first hand, and yet in spite of this all you are still willing to try. To me, it seems for you to give up now would be an insult to yourself. Don't hold yourself against others. This is your journey, your path. If you falter a step, do not think of how others have made it successfully, but what you can try and do to rectify the problem and how you will do it."

[Sejah Haversh]

Dasquain's words were all good and nice, and made sense, but they did little to help. Sejah had been a student for years, and in that time had also become a teacher. He knew the mind well, and knew how to deal with shortcomings and work around problems with others. That was why he had reached the conclusion that he had.

Sejah looked back to Dasquain's eyes as he responded in a normal tone, "Dasquain, you're my friend, and I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but I know all that already. And I know the meanings beneath it. But you have to believe me that there are days, and there have been many of them lately, where the only reason I stay here is because I don't have anywhere else to go. I don't have any friends outside the order anymore, I can't just pick up and leave. I didn't even really want to come here in the first place, but I've stuck it out this far, so I'm not giving up. Even you ought to know how stubborn I can be by now."

He tried to smile, but his leg was hurting so badly that it came out as more of a wince. Using the counterrop as a brace, he slowly made his way back to the bed and sat down on it again, massaging his sore legs.

[Dasquian Belargic]

"I'm not sure what to suggest, then. The situation seems almost a paradox. I would say that the situation is in your hands, but evidently it is not – you have reliance upon others, if only to train you," Dasquian sat down once more and shook his head. He liked to think he could solve problems, but it seemed more often than not he did a better job at creating them.

"I don't have much to offer you, Sejah."

[Sejah Haversh]

"Well, you could offer me a shoulder to lean on to get back up to our room," Sejah replied, a grin returning to his face. Though he had issues, Sejah had a usually irrepressable goodness to him that finally surfaced after the whole dark incident.

Pushing forward form the bed, the mongoose stumbled to a stand and leaned heavily on the side counter until Dasquain was able to give him a hand. "By the way, if I can stand long enough, I'll cook dinner tonight. Pizza sound good? I've got a coupon..."