Dark Day: Part Twelve

Part Twelve

     As far as Lire was concerned, she would hide in the ‘fresher until she managed to scrub from her brain the thought of that close encounter with Carth.  That didn’t quite work out as she’d planned, however, for Mission was soon banging frenziedly on the door and declaring hurriedly that she “really had to go!”  With a sigh, Lire mashed the controls, and the door hissed open.  She barely got a chance to step out before Mission bolted inside, nearly knocking her off-balance.  Lire just sighed to herself and rubbed her face with her hands as she turned around, but she nearly jumped when she saw Carth leaning against the wall not too far away.  Her face flushed once more but cooled somewhat when she realized that he still wasn’t able to see her.  She wondered to herself if she ought to be ashamed for being grateful he was blind at that moment. 

     “Ready to go?” she asked, crossing the hold to him.

     “Sure,” he shrugged, shifting a bit and altering his stance.

     Lire sensed that he wasn’t comfortable with the Council entering his mind.  She knew that she wouldn’t be, either, were she in his boots.  Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure how comfortable she’d be with the process even if she weren’t in his situation.  She sighed and took a deep breath, moving to Carth’s side.  Gently, she put a hand on his shoulder; he had finally gotten his jacket back from Jolee and was fidgeting rather nervously with one of the closures.  As far as Lire could tell, there was not even the faintest sign that she’d bled all over that jacket; whatever Jolee had used to clean it had been strong enough to purge it of her blood.  She sighed thinly through her nose before giving his shoulder a squeeze.

     “You’re not alone,” she murmured.

     For a minute, he looked almost thoughtful or perhaps worried.  He nodded once, slowly, and there was a hint of gratitude in his expression.  Lire took a hesitant step closer as her hand slid away from his shoulder and up to the back of his head; she wasn’t totally sure that she ought to be doing this, but she laced her fingers through his soft brown hair anyway.  She started to gently urge his head down closer to her, and it seemed that he all too willingly complied.  Their lips almost met; they brushed against each other for a split second before Lire backed away.

     “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to—Well, what I mean is—We should go.”

     Then she stepped around him, headed for the boarding ramp, and Carth followed along behind her, listening for her footsteps.  That was slightly more difficult than it had been in the past, however; she was walking more quietly than usual.  He knew it was because of their two moments of extreme closeness that day; he partly wondered why she’d pulled away.  She hadn’t given any warning; she’d just . . . stopped.  He figured he probably ought to start thinking about moving on with his life sometime, but it was difficult to let himself be happy when he still had vengeance on his mind.  That was the thing about Lire: she made him smile even though he hadn’t done so in years.  She was just . . . special.  He mulled over their discussion from earlier about adopting Mission and came to the conclusion that that really wouldn’t be such a bad idea.  But then he found himself wondering what the best method would be of getting Dustil to accept someone new as his stepmother, and he shook his head as if trying to dislodge all those thoughts.

     Then he noticed that Lire’s footsteps had stopped; she was waiting for him.  He picked up his gait a bit, gingerly picking his way around the Jedi milling about the Enclave.  Some of them stepped out of his way out of courtesy; others were so involved in studying holocrons that he had to find his way around them.  Carth grumbled under his breath; as far as he was concerned, that was just another example of a Jedi’s obliviousness to the world around him.  Once, he had to sidestep a cheerfully running Youngling and nearly tripped over a nearby stone that was about the size of an award plaque.  He swore mildly under his breath as he caught himself on a wall, ashamed of making a fool out of himself.  He’d thought he was getting better at this!  After all, he’d been able to get out to the plains and rescue Lire without seeing where he was going, but maybe he’d let that little adventure go right to his head.  Maybe he really wasn’t as good at this as he’d thought.

     Carth stood there against the wall for a moment, running his hands across its rough-hewn surface, feeling its almost primitive texture.  He hadn’t expected the Jedi to live in a temple of solid gold, but then again, he hadn’t exactly been to Coruscant lately, either.  Maybe each training academy was different in some way.  He paused, remembering the velvety feel of the petals of the rose in his hand when Lire had cut it from the bush so he could have it.  He remembered the soft, pleasant coolness of the grass when he’d buried his toes in it.  Now he felt the late afternoon sun radiating warmth and, he expected, golden rays down onto him.  It no longer felt as if he were standing by that wall because he’d stumbled and nearly failed.  Now it felt just as if he were enjoying the afternoon.  He let the sunlight wash over him, sighing thinly as it soaked through his jacket to warm the skin beneath.  It was just . . . nice.  He hadn’t had a moment like this to himself in, well, years.  Most of his time was spent hunting Saul.  At least it was nice to know that the universe was still beautiful.  The thought that he might soon be able to again see it spurred him on toward the Council chambers, only he realized that he could no longer hear Lire’s footsteps.

     “Lire?” he called, almost hesitantly.  It wasn’t as if he had anything to hide, though; everyone in the Enclave probably already knew he was blind.  Force, how he despised that word.  It left him feeling . . . empty.  There was a soft hand snaking into his.

     “Here.”

     It occurred to him then that she had been beside him all along, just watching and waiting.  He also realized that she wasn’t trying to lead him into the Council chambers; she was just holding his hand, just . . . being there.  Sometimes she really surprised him.  He sighed to himself, brushing his other hand across the wall once more.

     “Guess we’d better get in there,” he said, somewhat resignedly.

     Lire gave his hand a squeeze, and he just squeezed back.  Then her hand dropped from his as she walked away toward the Council chambers, and he followed, once again being certain to follow the sound of her footsteps.  When she stopped, so did he, though he wondered if perhaps she were merely pausing to check his location.  Before long, their footsteps began to echo as they entered the Council chambers.  Lire touched the back of his hand as they walked toward the center of the room, and he came to a halt, waiting.  Vandar shuffled across the room to him, gazing up at Carth.  Bastila was waiting nearby, watching carefully.

     “Captain Onasi,” Vandar said. “It is good that you have come.  The Council is very confident that today may be a special day for you.”

     Carth’s heart skipped a nervously excited beat, but he didn’t say a word.  In truth, he wasn’t quite sure how he ought to respond.  He wasn’t even sure if anything more could be done for him even if the Jedi Master had basically promised that something would be done.  Vandar turned to Lire.

     “Padawan Dakaar,” he said. “Bastila has told us of your . . . rather exciting morning.  She has informed us of your unknown attacker; perhaps it would be best if you returned to the Ebon Hawk and continued to rest.”

     Lire’s jaw dropped as she stared at Vandar first and Bastila second.  How could they suggest that?!  She wanted to be here with Carth during all this!  She felt fine.  As far as she could tell, she was fully healed!

     “With all due respect, Master,” she said, forcing herself to remain passive, “I should like to stay.”

     “You have become far too attached to your pilot,” Vrook harrumphed, and Lire felt her eyes narrow. “You think your bond gives you clearance to draw close to him.  Such thoughts lead to the Dark Side, young one; you would do well to remember that.”

     “I have thought no such things,” Lire replied, allowing a hint of venom to filter through her tone. “I simply want to be here when you help him!  You cannot send me away, Masters, because I will not go!”

     The Council glanced back and forth among each other, and Vrook grumbled under his breath.  The others looked mildly sympathetic, and Bastila looked slightly shocked at her comrade-in-arms’ refusal to obey the Council’s wishes.  Lire felt relief from Carth; he hadn’t wanted her to leave any more than she’d wanted to.  Bastila took a step or two forward, eyes almost pleading.  Lire arched an eyebrow.

     “They are right, Lire,” Bastila murmured. “You have worked too hard these past few days and deserve time to rest.”

     “I will not leave him!”

     “It isn’t as if you’re abandoning him.”

     “It feels that way!”

     Vrook glared at the other Masters in an “I told you so” fashion, folding his arms and scowling.  Zhar sighed and looked at his former apprentice.

     “Padawan,” he said. “We know you are concerned for him, but we all sense your exhaustion.  Recall the time you nearly harmed yourself by refusing to rest during your initial training.”

     Lire paused, thinking back.  When she had first come to Dantooine, she had thrown herself so fully into her training that she’d barely gotten any sleep or food.  For the most part, she slept only when she was about to fall down anyway, and her sustenance had been limited to whatever she could get her hands on at the time—usually water.  One night, she’d stayed in the Enclave to train until well past midnight and had collapsed of exhaustion.  Mission had been the one to sound the alarm when the girl had awakened for a drink of water and seen that her friend had not yet returned to the ship.  Lire rubbed the back of her neck, still thinking.  Canderous had found her first; she’d passed out on the threshold of the door leading out to the walkway that eventually wound its way around the Enclave to the Hawk.  She still remembered how awful she’d felt when she’d finally come around, but she had had a fairly good reason for training so hard.  It was the voices.  Always those voices, always screaming, crying, wailing in agony . . .  She didn’t hear them as much anymore, but when she’d first been attuned to the Force, she’d heard them quite clearly.  They’d been louder than one of the Hawk’s engines.  Now they were quieter, but she’d paid for her almost insane devotion to her training.  She’d spent a week in bed, simply resting and recovering her lost strength.  She bit her lip.

     “Must I go?” she asked, just as a child meekly asks her parents whether or not she absolutely must tidy her room.  Zhar nodded slowly.

     “You must,” he replied. “Padawan, I know how you wish to stay, but you must rest.  Bastila needs your help in stopping Malak.  Should you fall from exhaustion, the entire galaxy might fall to him.”

     Somehow, it always managed to come back to that.  They always managed to drill into her skull time and again how “important” this mission was, how “critical” to the security of the galaxy it was, how “special” and “talented” and “significant” to this she herself was.  Lire sighed; she certainly didn’t want to leave, but it seemed as if the Council wasn’t giving her a choice.  And from what she could feel, Carth didn’t want her to leave, either.  Vandar motioned to Bastila, and the young Padawan came forward, crossing to Lire’s side and taking Lire by the shoulder.

     “It will be fine,” she said. “I promise.  We’ll take very good care of him.”

     “You mean—”  Lire seemed to suddenly realize what Bastila had unwittingly insinuated.  “You’re taking over my part in all this?  You aren’t the one bound to him, Bastila!  This isn’t your place!”

     “Be silent!” Vrook grumped. “You have been told to return to your ship.  You will do as you are instructed, Padawan.”

     “I will not!” Lire cried. “I—I don’t want to leave him!”

     Vrook cast an almost triumphant look in the Council’s direction as if to once again declare that he had been correct in saying that Lire had become too attached to her ship’s pilot.  Lire was starting to shake, and Bastila gently clasped both of her friend’s shoulders, trying to calm her.

     “It’s all right,” she soothed. “This need not be quite so traumatic.  I’m not trying to take over your part in this.  We just want you to rest.  Lire, you need to rest.  Trust us!”

     Lire stared in disbelief at the Council, but then her expression went from shock and horror to resigned understanding.  She backed away from the Council even as she edged closer to Carth, her hand straying for his.  Her cold azure gaze was locked firmly on each Master as she nodded slowly.

     “I understand,” she said tightly. “You think I’m too attached to him.  You don’t want me here because you think he’d have thoughts you wouldn’t want to see.  Fine.  Okay.  I’ll go.”

     “No, Lire, it isn’t like that—” Bastila began, but Lire lifted a hand to silence her.

     “No, it’s fine,” Lire replied. “I’ll go back to the Hawk and . . . and rest.  I just pray that you’ll figure out how damned ridiculous throwing me out is.”

     She gave Carth’s hand one tiny squeeze before turning around and striding from the Council chambers, and for a moment, she felt as if she were truly abandoning him.  A sensation of helplessness rolled off him and onto her, and her gait slowed momentarily as she considered turning right around and going back to him.  She could feel the Council’s shock at her reaction, and she nearly wanted to punch their faces in.  How dare they think that leaving Carth for no reason would be something she’d easily accept!  She wondered if maybe she ought to stay just to spite them.  Then again, she really wasn’t in the mood for dealing with their ignorance.  She thought she ought to stay for Carth’s sake, though, but by the time she considered turning around, she was already out of the Council chambers, and the door was locked behind her.  She sighed, closing her eyes and pounding a fist into the wall.  Sometimes she just wanted to tell the Council what she really thought of them.  Instead, all she could do was walk morosely back to the Ebon Hawk and wonder why the Council had tried so hard to throw her out.