Dark Day: Part Three

Part Three

     The Ebon Hawk was silent that evening as everyone got ready to turn in for the night.  Carth was still sealed inside the men’s dorm; he hadn’t even come out to eat even though Lire had asked repeatedly and Mission had tried to pick the lock to take him a plate.  Both attempts had failed miserably as they were both greeted with a gruff “Go away.”  Eventually, Lire and Mission positioned themselves near the dorm door and declared loudly that they really didn’t care if Carth stayed locked up in there for the rest of his life but that they knew he’d have to come out sooner or later if he wanted ‘fresher privileges.  There was silence after that one, and the girls went off, satisfied that they’d put the thought of coming out of self-exile into that pilot’s head.  For the most part, Lire was attempting to make Mission feel better about the situation even though she was worried that the crew might have a serious case of depression on their hands if Carth were allowed to mope long enough.

     Everyone seemed willing to help Carth adapt if he’d just come out and let them.  Bastila offered to teach him to “see” things by touch; Canderous observed that Jedi probably spent a lot of time doing that before he offered to break down the men’s dorm door.  Lire just said that they all ought to wait to see what would happen.  That was why there was an empty place at the dinner table that night: because they were waiting.

     When it came time to go to bed, Canderous had to set up a makeshift bunk in the garage because no one could get past the way Carth had locked the men’s dorm.  By the time everything was settled and Lire could finally tuck herself in, Bastila was sound asleep and Mission was missing.  A brief search revealed the girl standing in her pajamas with her ear pressed against the men’s dorm hatch.  She turned when she heard Lire come up behind her.

     “I don’t hear anything,” she whispered.

     “He’s probably asleep by now,” Lire answered, taking Mission’s shoulders and turning her back toward the ladies’ dorm. “Go on now, get some sleep.  It’s been a long day.”

     Mission sighed and reluctantly turned away, and Lire glanced once at the hatch before following.  She just hoped there weren’t suicidal thoughts running through that man’s head, and that thought startled her somewhat, so she turned around and went back to the door, knocking on it.

     “See you in the morning, Carth,” she said. “And you’d better not be getting too angsty on me.”

     She was relieved to hear an acknowledging grunt, so she nodded to herself and walked away, dimming the lights in the main hold as she went.  In spite of the traumatic experiences of the day, she was glad of one thing: that she wasn’t spending the night in the Sith Academy.  As she eased into her bunk and nestled down beneath the blankets, she couldn’t help but wonder if Carth would even still be in that dorm in the morning.  For all she knew, he was going to somehow escape that night and be far away before anybody could blink.  As far as she could tell, he had the misery to do just about anything, and taking his own life probably wouldn’t have been out of the question.  But the ship was completely quiet, so Lire tried to get some sleep.

     She slept soundly for a few hours before a loud crash jolted her awake.  She glanced around the ladies’ dorm; Bastila was still as sound asleep as ever, but the noise had awakened Mission.  Not saying a word, the two leaped out of bed and ran from the dorm to investigate the cause of that racket.  While Mission darted off to see if it’d awakened anyone else, Lire went on to find out what had caused that crash.  Eventually, she came to the door of the cargo bay and peered in, flipping on the light.  There she found that several of the supply bins had been knocked over and that Carth was sitting there among them, arms wrapped around his knees and an angry scowl on his face.  Lire sighed to herself as she entered and took a seat next to him, brushing against his shoulder to let him know where she was.

     “Rough night, huh?” she asked gently.  His scowl only deepened.

     “Where the hell am I?” came the angry-sounding, frustrated question.

     “The cargo hold,” she replied with a sigh. “Why, were you wanting to be somewhere else?”

     “Got hungry,” Carth replied gruffly after a minute.

     They sat there in silence for a while before Mission arrived at the cargo hold, skidding around the corner.

     “Well, it didn’t wake Canderous up, and Jolee’s a bit grouchy, and Juhani was dreaming, so—”  She cut abruptly off as her gaze latched onto Carth.  “What happened?”

     “Bit of an accident,” Lire replied softly.  Carth scoffed.

     “Like hell it was,” he grumbled. “Don’t know where the hell I’m going . . .”

     “That is quite enough,” Lire stated firmly. “Mish, you go on back to bed.  I’ll take care of this.”

     Mission bit her lip as she nodded, but then she scampered over and suddenly hugged Carth, startling him.  Then she was back out of the cargo hold, waving slightly to Lire.

     “Okay, well . . . Night, Carth.  Hope you feel better soon.”

     And then she was gone.  Lire glanced sideways at Carth, who was still scowling angrily with his arms folded across the tops of his knees.

     “Pity party?” she asked.

     “No,” came the burly reply.

     “Oh, so it wasn’t a pity party, but when you went the wrong way and ended up knocking the supply crates over, you didn’t get up and try to go the right direction.  Instead, you sat here pouting.”

     “I’m not pouting,” Carth grumbled, sounding ever so unlike himself. “I’m fine.”

     “Really?  You know what, Carth, you’ve been locked up in that dorm ever since we got back from the Valley.  I thought you’d want to try to get used to this if—”

     “If what?”  Carth sounded angrier than he had as he tore the bandages off his head and threw them aside.  “If I never see again?  Because, look, I can already tell I won’t.  You think Jolee wasn’t lying to me?  The frelling mine blew up in my face, Lire.  No way I’m gonna see again.  Ever.”

     Lire frowned as she climbed to her feet and went to a far corner of the cargo hold.  She put her hands on her hips and looked right at Carth.

     “Get up,” she said sternly.  He turned his head slightly in confusion.

     “What?”

     “Get up,” Lire said, almost barking the order. “If you’re going to be blind till the day you die, then you may as well get used to it.  Now get up!”

     Eyebrows raised curiously, Carth slowly staggered to his feet, using a nearby crate for support.  As soon as he was up, Lire nodded even though she knew fully he couldn’t see her.

     “Good.  Now, walk to me.”

     “What?!  I can’t see you!”

     “Walk to me, Carth.  Follow my voice.”  Carth looked unsure.  Lire sighed.  “Do it!”

     Slowly, hesitantly, Carth took a step forward before pausing.  He took another step and paused again.  He sighed and shook his head, letting his shoulders droop.

     “This is stupid,” he muttered, and Lire sighed.

     “It is not.  Now, c’mon.”

     With a frustrated sigh and a grumble, Carth took another few hesitant steps forward before he came to a stop and rapidly shook his head.

     “This isn’t gonna work, Lire,” he muttered. “I don’t know where I’m going!”

     “That’s pretty much the whole point,” Lire answered, noting with pleasure how his head snapped in the direction of her voice. “You can’t rely on always being able to feel things.  You have to hear some things, too—like people.  To know where they are, you can’t go up and grab them.  You’ve got to train your ears to be so sensitive that you’ll be able to locate anyone at any time.  Now, let’s keep at this.  Walk to me.”

     Carth bit his lip before he squared back his shoulders and started walking again.  There had been something in the tone of Lire’s voice, some strength, some power that made him, deep down, want to try even if his immediate consciousness wanted to refuse.  Part of him wanted to just give up.  The other part, though it was far smaller in comparison, needed to try.  He struggled so hard to attune his hearing to Lire, to whatever she said, however she moved . . .  He paused when he didn’t hear anything and moved forward when her robes rustled or she urged him onward.  Perhaps he wanted to try not just for himself but for her as well.

     After a few minutes, her hands were on his shoulders as she praised him, told him how proud she was of him.  There was a fraction of his mind that was cynical; that fraction wanted to shove her away and make some excuse about how it was “just” walking across a cargo hold.  He just shrugged and didn’t say anything, but he went stiff when she took his face in her hands and kissed him on the cheek.  That he had most certainly not been expecting.  But she pulled away just as quickly, and he cautiously brushed his hands over her face.  Her face was warm; was she blushing?  He touched her chin, her forehead, her shoulders, building something of a mental image to which he could refer.  Yet as soon as he pulled his hands away, that image was lost.  He couldn’t remember the shape of her nose even though he’d touched it only a few moments before.  But he could remember the texture of her hair and of her skin and the roughness of her well-worn robes, and he recognized her voice immediately.  He just could not recall the shape of her.  He bit his lip as his brows furrowed.  Almost instantly, her hand was on his shoulder.

     “Carth?”

     “. . .Yeah?”

     “Is something wrong?”

     “Uh . . . well . . .”  He sighed, shoulders slouching.  “Tell me something, Lire.  What color is your hair?”

     There was an almost apprehensive tone to her voice when she answered.

     “Black.  Why?”

     “And your eyes?”

     “Blue.  Carth, what’s going on?  You know all this.”

     He refused to reply as he shook his head, brows furrowed so tightly that deep creases appeared on his forehead.

     “What about your skin?”

     “Fair.  Kind of a peachy color.  Flyboy, what’re all these color questions for?”

     He sighed as his chin dropped.  Had he been able, he would’ve been staring at his boots.  Instead, his face was just tilted down as he gripped her hands.  It seemed only right that something like this would happen so soon after a victory.  Force forbid he should beat this stumbling block.  He heaved a shaky breath as he tried to force himself to remember but to no avail.

      “You’re gonna call me crazy,” he mumbled, “but I don’t think I can remember your face.”

A/N: I know that seemed like a quick occurrence. The reason is in Pt. 4. Also, this is pre-Leviathan fiasco. A further explanation is available here: http://tatooine92.deviantart.com/art/KotOR-Dark-Day-Pt-2-83286479