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storyknitter · 4 years

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Someone to Lean On

Inspired by @whumpster-dumpster ‘s prompt found here! (Seriously, go follow her, her prompts are amazing!) Warning for blood.

16 ATC, Yavin 4

“Quit acting like you’re not dead tired. Sit. Down.” Knight Kira Carsen’s hissed order carried a thread of worry that Theron would have picked up even without his implants. As the shuttle lifted off, her skirt brushed against his knees and he glanced up surreptitiously at the two Jedi who fought so well together. Even after working with the duo for months, he was always surprised by their synchronicity; one’s lightsaber protected the other’s weak spots, the places left open to attack, without question or hesitation.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to find that protectiveness extended to the rest of life as well.

Master Nabeshin – Vassanna – met her friend’s gaze, silently communicating... something before turning to him. “Is this seat taken?” she asked softly and gestured to the empty segment of padded shuttle bench to his right.

Unprompted, his mind drifted back to the safehouse on Rishi and the kiss they’d shared – hesitant, soft, sweet. Despite the aches and pains that had wracked his body, he hadn’t wanted to stop, and the precious few moments stolen here on Yavin only served to make him want to kiss her again – and again and again.

Theron couldn’t help a small grin. “It’s all yours.” He ignored the curious glance from Satele and the naked jealousy on Doc’s face as Vassanna slipped onto the seat beside him, close enough to feel her saber pressed against his hip. If she hadn’t been so elegant about it, however, Theron would have said that she’d flopped onto the bench. Stifling a yawn, she pressed her fingertips to her temples, rubbing lightly.

“You okay?”

She glanced sidelong at him and gave him a weak smile. “Headache. And maybe a bit tired. This planet, it’s... it’s hard to meditate here. Then this whole thing with Revan and the, um ...” Trailing off, she caught her lower lip between her teeth. “It’s just a lot,” she whispered.

The haunted look in her eyes made him want to hold her close, to reassure her that everything would be all right. Ugh, what was his problem? She was a Jedi and could take care of herself perfectly fine. So instead, he simply nodded in agreement.

Though her comments brought his concern about the newly freed Sith Emperor to mind again, he brushed the thoughts aside for the moment and focused on Master Nabeshin. Kira was right: she looked absolutely exhausted and far older than her nearly-twenty-five years.

“If you’re tired,” he said, glancing purposely at his shoulder, “you could take a quick catnap on the ride back to the coalition base.” It wasn’t much, but at least he could relieve some of her stress. Dropping his voice conspiratorially, Theron leaned closer to her, a smirk playing on his lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” A faint whiff of something sweet and floral mingled with the distinctive odor of combat, wafting past his nose.

Vassanna hesitated only briefly before resting her head on his shoulder, her eyes slipping closed with a sigh. Something in Theron’s chest clenched as she melted into his side, a soft, murmured thanks falling from her lips. Behind Kira, Doc turned away with a frown.

(Satele watched from across the shuttle as her best – and if she were honest, her favorite – Knight spoke quietly with her son. Closing her eyes, she searched the Force and found exactly what she had expected and, perhaps, feared: a small, impossibly delicate tendril connecting the pair, shimmering faint, but sweet.

Please, she begged the Force, let this end better for them than it did for Jace and me. Please.)

Theron enjoyed the Jedi’s weight against him more than he probably should. He leaned his head against the durasteel wall behind him, excusing his momentary weakness: he simply needed to rest his eyes, just for a minute. It had been a long, hard fight after all, and his left shoulder was beginning to throb and burn. He couldn't remember exactly when the re-injury had happened, but it was nothing a bit of kolto couldn’t fix.

It seemed as though he had hardly taken a deep, meditative breath or two before the shuttle touched down at the base camp, his eyes snapping open and his neck complaining rather painfully. Everyone filed out slowly, their aching muscles stiff and complaining, and Kira reached down to wake Master Nabeshin.

“It’s okay,” Theron said softly, unwilling to disturb the woman sleeping on him. “I’ll give her another minute or two. She clearly needs the rest.”

Kira nodded – though he ignored the mischievous little smirk that accompanied it – and dragged Doc toward the base. Within a handful of moments, however, Theron’s implants were pinging, his remaining time on this rock scheduled, divided up and parceled out. His presence was required immediately and he was forced to wake Vassanna.

Stomping out his disappointment with a sigh, Theron jiggled his good shoulder gently. “Master Jedi? Rise and shine.” A small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth; she’d woken him with the same phrase on Rishi whenever he’d fallen asleep on his datapad, which might have happened once or twice. “C’mon, it’s time to wake up.”

He shook his shoulder again as ice crept into his veins: her body remained limp and heavy against his side. “Vassanna?” She shouldn’t be so sound asleep – the shuttle ride hadn’t been that long. “Vee, wake up.” The nickname felt strange on his tongue, but a vague fear he couldn’t put his finger on pushed him to wake her any way he could.

Vassanna’s head lolled forward as he shifted to face her, the back of her neck stained dark, and Theron had barely registered it as blood before she tipped off of the bench, tumbling to the floor. Letting out a string of curses as his heart stopped beating, he leapt out of his seat and caught her before she hit the durasteel floor, his left shoulder screaming in protest.

“Kira! Doc!” he called over his still-active comm, a tang of desperation creeping into his voice. “Come on Jedi,” he muttered, “open your eyes. Please, Vassanna.”

Despite the fear coiling in the pit of his stomach, saying her name was... something else. He’d gotten so accustomed to calling her “Master Jedi” that using her actual name felt intimate, forbidden, and– no, focus, dammit.

Cradling Vassanna in his aching left arm, he bit the fingertips of his right glove, tugging it off with his teeth and dropping it at his side. Carefully, oh so carefully, he undid the clip holding her hair up in its bun, long dark hair pooling over his lap and spilling onto the floor.

As Theron gingerly ran his fingers across her scalp, he found the source of the bluish-purple blood coating the back of her neck and, now, his bare hand: a deep, jagged cut she must have received when Revan had thrown her at the large stone pillars that surrounded the arena. His heart rate picked up speed and he swore again.

“What the hells happened here?” Doc snarled as he dropped to his knees next to the inert Jedi and began scanning her, medkit open at his side. “What did you do?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything; she got hurt in the fight.”

If looks could kill, Theron would be as dead as his ancestor.

At a gesture from the medic, Theron removed his hand. Kira assisted in treating Vassanna – only temporary stitches and some kolto gel, thankfully – while Theron held her close, his heart still threatening to hammer itself out of his chest.

As Doc worked, Vassanna stirred with a moan of pain, flailing weakly. Before Theron could stop himself, he’d taken her hand in his, sticky with drying blood, and squeezed tight.

“Shh, you’ll be okay, just breathe,” he murmured.

“Smell good,” Vassanna mumbled into Theron’s side, and he blinked in surprise.

“What?”

“How do you smell so good?” She was slurring her words, which probably wasn’t great, but Doc rifled through his case and retrieved a hypo-syringe, jabbing it into her bare upper arm. Vassanna flinched and let out a small whine before continuing. “It’s hot and muggy,” she said, her speech clearing, “and miserable and you kriffing smell good.”

“Pretty sure that’s just the head wound talking,” Theron said with a smirk. “But thanks – I showered this morning.” His retort garnered a chuckle from Kira and even a snort from Doc.

“What?” Vassanna sounded so confused. Theron wondered if she even knew what she’d just said. Her eyes grew wide as she noticed her hand in his and the blood covering both – her blood. “What happened?” she whispered, meeting his gaze. The worry and fear he saw in her eyes twisted his gut and all he wanted to do was make things better.

“You’re all set, gorgeous,” Doc said, packing up his tools. “You’ve got a pretty impressive bruise and a serious laceration, but ol’ Doc’s got you all fixed up.”

Yeah, thanks to me, Theron thought, jaw clenching as he restrained himself from decking the good doctor. An emotion he tried not to name coiled around his chest, squeezing and crushing him, making it near impossible to breathe. Jealousy, a small voice in the back of his head whispered. He smothered the feeling as best he could: he had no claim on Vassanna.

But maybe you want one, the sly voice said.

Boxing up that little voice until he could properly analyze it – alone – Theron looked back down at Master Nabeshin. “I think you hit your head while we were fighting Revan,” he said softly, resisting the urge to brush the loose wisps of hair out of her face. “How are you feeling?”

Stars, her eyes were beautiful. How had he not noticed the flecks of silver in them before?

Vassanna bit her lip and he had a brief moment where all he could think was kiss her: she was cradled in his arm, sprawled across him, her saber-calloused hand still in his. His thumb rubbed absently across the back of her knuckles and he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from hers.

“Hey!” Doc’s voice broke through whatever enchantment held Theron in its grasp. “Dial it back, lover-boy.”

Theron nearly choked when his brain processed the medic’s comment. Lover-boy? “What the fresh hells are you talking about?” Heat rushed up his neck, seeping into his ears and cheeks. Dammit, was he actually blushing?

Kira was doing a terrible job of concealing her laughter, though she at least had the decency to turn her face away from them.

“I’m fine now,” Vassanna said hesitantly. “Thank you.” Her cheeks also seemed tinged with color, Theron noted wryly.

Slowly, cautiously, she tried to stand. Kira and Doc flanked her immediately and with their assistance, she only wobbled slightly when upright.

“C’mon, gorgeous. Let’s get you to the med tent,” Doc said. He tossed a pointed look at Theron as he continued sardonically, “You need your head examined.”

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