Empty Days, Sleepless Nights

[Thal Mantis]

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"I always wondered who they were. But moreso, why they left me to suffer."

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All his life, dreams plagued him like water to a drowning man. ​

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Some nights, they were hazy memories of fonder times. ​

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Of a mother he dreamed of. Of a father he believed he might find.​

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But everytime he awoke- ​

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He was in that nightmare. Shackles, bound, forced to fight once again. Waking up in ice baths, bacta tanks. Trying to reinvigorate him for another fight, another purse. Some nights to the death. Some nights to desolate wastes in the arena, more souls to reap. More victims.

Just like him.

He opened his eyes this time, not to find a dimly lit cell-

But rather, a soft amber glow of a dim hospital light. He had been recovering since the battle of Kashyyyk- and he had even been admitted back into the Halls of Healing. They'd put him under sedation- partly due to his reputation, partly due to safety- of himself and others. They were afraid of him. They heard what happened with the temple, the rage, the fear. The destruction he caused. He was a raging maelstrom of hatred and malice. He was a lot of things, but chief among them, more than anything else-


Thal was a victim.

A victim of the trading of lives for credits that often went so overlooked in the galaxy, lives traded for credits across the stars for labor and for pleasure of the sicker indulgences. Thal was of the latter, but he knew plenty of them that did not share the same fate that he had. He had gotten his revenge, taken his pound of flesh back for himself. Those who wronged him, who enslaved him, lay dead, writhing in hell or wherever they went after the curtain closed. So far, the Silver Jedi had been caring, empathetic. Oh, their kind words rang like bells in his head. Their musings, their glances, their sorry stares. But what of them understood?

He writhed and thrashed in his sleep. Nightmares, dreams, visions. Whatever you wanted to call them. Thal only knew them as to what prevented him from sleeping. He grimaced, blue eyes locked behind eyelids unable to find rest.

The monitors began to beep and ring due to his sudden uptick in activity, which awoke him. The dreams subsided, and he was alone, the amber-lit room covered in the light sanguine of night-time. He sat up on the bed, wincing at the recent patching-up of the not-so insignificant chest wound he received. But this wasn't the first person to treat him about- no, this was just part of the road to recovery. He glanced out the window, watching the soft rain of the forest planet tap against the glass of his room.

But to him, Silver Rest felt more like a prison of his own machinations. At least in the Red Tower, he could see the chains.


[member="Nida Perl"]

 

[Nida Perl]

The sound of the beeping monitors was faint from where Nida sat at the nurse’s station, working on her second cup of caf for the night. Evening shifts weren’t her favorite, but for some reason she found it easier to power through the 24-hour ones. Come sunup, she’d be relieved of her duties and could spend the day sleeping.

The healer roused herself when the monitors triggered an alarm on the console—not a loud, blaring klaxon of a warning, but a series of soft beeps that was sufficient to grab her attention. Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, she squinted at the number on the monitor. “Room three…” Muttering quietly to herself lest she forget, she rose and headed down the hall with a bit of forced pep in her step.

There were often symbols on the outside of each room’s door, denoting the level of care needed for each patient. This one wasn’t critical, but several warning icons were lit up in red. After the briefest moment of hesitation, perhaps to prepare herself for what may be to come, Nida pressed her hand to the door’s lock panel.

“Is everything alright in here?” Her voice was soft, naturally so. Nida had learned long ago that patient’s generally didn’t respond well to overly concerned tones as it often made them even more anxious. Empathy, yes. They loved that. But worry? No, worry made heart rates rise.

She drifted closer to the bed, allowing her eyes to scan across the various monitors and screens giving a readout of the patient’s vitals. As soon as she turned her eyes to him, she paused. While there was nothing about his appearance that stood out, there was something in their air that grasped at her Zeltron empathy. While she couldn’t discern what was going on in his mind—Nida wasn’t psychic, after all— she could feel the complicated blend of anxiety, unrest, and fury that was emanating from the young man on the bed. This was where being an empath became tricky. If she wasn’t careful, strong emotions from other individuals could affect her as if they were her own. It took practice to be able to separate herself from them, and to keep her own feelings in check.

But Nida had treated plenty of wounded soldiers, plenty of civilians who’d been caught in the wretched dregs of society, plenty of people with plenty of emotions to be felt and understood. So why did this make her hesitate?

Deep down, it was because she’d felt the exact same way as he did. Felt? Who was she kidding, those emotions, on occasion, would escape the far corner of her mind and bubble to the surface, where she’d promptly stifle them. Nida offered him a tired smile.

“How are you feeling, Thal?”

[member="Thal"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

A soft voiced, carried by a soft person.

Not the worst thing to wake up from a rough dream to. A pretty face and a caring look went far in a world like Thal's. But his world was empty, devoid of anything. So her looks only went so far. Caring, empathetic eyes that didn't understand him only served to remind him of his isolation, his distance from the people that took him in and gave him some semblance of direction.

He stared at the rain on the window for a while, before turning his head back to her. He ran his fingers over and through his braided hair, touching the shaved sides of his head before speaking.

"Fine, considering the wounds."

It was well known how Thal got injured- stabbed and thrown directly off of Silver Rest. And it only served more to his namesake given to him at the Red Tower. Thal had cheated death again, or at least, not met someone who could kill him. Yet. He'd only go so far, go so long, before getting lucky. Of course, his survival was thanks to an intervention by someone else-

And the conversation following created more questions than answers. More threads to follow, more roads to walk down. More rocks to remove from the tunnel he found himself in. He had stopped drowning, but now he was buried under an avalanche of what he found to be his father's sins.

Thal might have not had restraints on the bed he was laying on, but he had the constant air of a wounded animal. A savage brute that had become known for his penchant and talent for violence, his reputation proceeded him, but it was his body. He constantly was leaning forward, like a wolf. He looked over at Nida, sneering not at her, but out of instinct. He sat up, his tattooed and scarred chest on display. The Red Tower on his back, etched into his skin by his free will, was recently altered-

The Red Tower was shown to be ablaze, and cracked and broken, with skulls at the base. It was a tattoo of triumph, a mark to all those who he conquered through death. The Jedi may have frowned upon his rampage, but it was one of the few things that truly gave Thal a semblance, a measure of peace- if only for a while. But what it really did, was gave him perspective. That after his revenge, after his pound of flesh, after his rampage, his bloodlust finally sated- he had nothing. Nothing but weight carried.

Empty days, and sleepless nights is all that his revenge, finally attained, got him.

But he saw it in her.

The look he had.

The mask placed over one's face. Maybe it was the force. Maybe it was shared experience. Maybe it was intuition. But Thal could tell. As if by habit, he made no sudden movements, and didn't move too much on the bed- as if he was still restrained to it.

"You were like me, weren't you?"

A tone in his voice was the sign of relief- someone finally was there to understand- or maybe, he had been wrong. He sat up more, his body language not quite relaxing- but somewhat adjusting. He leaned forward, an all-too knowing glare in his eyes.

"You were a slave."

[member="Nida Perl"]​

 

[Nida Perl]

While the look he may have given her would unnerve Nida at any other point, she didn’t take it personally. The glares, the snarls, the insults, even the occasional tossing of a medical instrument—she’d learned not to take it personally. Patients came to the ward in all states, especially angry. They may leer at her, but it was not her they were angry with. They may call her a schutta, but she knew that it was the adrenaline, the emotions talking. Nida, and the other medical staff, were just there to absorb it all.

After a few moments she gave him a small smile, serene and calm but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. It couldn’t, not after he’d stirred such potent memories and feelings within her. Nida wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave, but she would see her duty through.

“You must be exhausted.” She spoke, that same practiced tranquility in her voice. “Would you like something to help you sleep?” It would be easier, but Nida would not inject anything into his IV line until he either consented, or became unmanageably rowdy.

It was a long, long, long time ago, she told herself. Just put it out of your mind.

A pause, then a moment of unprofessionalism. “Is it true what they call you? ‘Deathless’?”

[member="Thal"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

Something to help him sleep?

He found it.

At least- what he thought would be the thing that would put him to sleep.

But the nightmares, they always came. The dreams, they always came. Like waves on a shore, they were a sure thing. The sun would rise, the moon would set, and Thal would have another night of dreams, of nightmares. Visions of things that were, were to be, and would be. Sometimes they whispered things to him. Other times they were simply a recreation of what had already passed-

He'd been tired for years. Medicine wouldn't change that. His eyes hardened. His name. What they called him, after they tried to kill him so many times. But she didn't know. He just had a nickname, a title. She didn't know the story, the reality of why they called him that. His eyes softened, sadness taking place where anger was. The occupancy of his eyes shifted, the beast cowering for a moment, before he spoke again.

"They did. They tried to kill me, you see-" His eyes turned away, remembering the shackles, the whips, the chains. The electric shocks for obedience. The training, the brutality. "And no matter what, I would live. I would live and they would fail to kill me. So I became an act. They threw everything that the Outer Rim had at me. Beast and man alike." Pale blue eyes flicked by to Nida.

"They tried. But they don't do much of anything anymore."

Everyone at Silver Rest knew what Thal did. It wasn't every day a singular Jedi went on a rampage and killed dozens of people, and destroyed an entire slave ring- by himself. His rage was well known, his brutality becoming something of a personality trait. They were trying to temper that rage, quell his anger. But so far, not many of the Jedi's lessons had taken heed with the young man.

Perhaps only the lightsaber lessons, as evidenced by his brutal assault.

[member="Nida Perl"]

 

[Nida Perl]

The hardness in Thal’s eyes made Nida stiffen, as if realizing her mistake. She did not relax even as they softened, recognizing the emotions hastily churning in them. It was uncomfortable for her to be here, and she could find a way to excuse herself, but she did not. This was something she needed to hear.

“They threw everything that the Outer Rim had at me.”

Over, and over, and over, and over.

That was the life of a slave, day in and day out. To the Masters, you may as well have not been alive. A living, breathing vessel for entertainment, but you weren’t alive. Your life weighed in credits and entertainment.

"They tried. But they don't do much of anything anymore."

A pang of jealously shot through Nida like lightning, leaving a hot, burning wake within her. She did not know if her abusers were dead or alive, if they were imprisoned or free. A deep, dark place inside her craved solace in the form of revenge, however unacceptable it may be. Nida had always been quiet, observant and anxious. She was a healer, a protector. There wasn’t a brutal bone in her body, so why did Thal’s story play at her baser emotions?

“And so, you killed them.” She looked at him now, a note of understanding in her soft voice. Maybe [member="Thal"] was a monster, but Nida believed that very few people were born with darkness in their hearts. Thal was a victim of the vicious current of the underworld, a sea that pulled you in and tossed you about over, and over, and over, and over.

[member="Thal"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

"I killed them all."


He corrected her, after she was done speaking. But it was too soon, he didn't take the time to process what he was saying to her and her reaction. And it was only after he immediately said it that he realized what he had said. He killed them. The act of revenge, the great cleansing of pain- supposedly. But it brought him nothing but ruin. Defeat, even in his final victory.

They were dead, and arguably, the galaxy was better off without them, his captors. He blinked, realizing what Nida was feeling. He could sense it without having to use the force. A brutal twang of jealousy, the kind that only could resonate through shared experiences but different outcomes. He put two and two together quickly, unfortunately. He looked at her for a long while, silence occupying the air between them before he spoke again.

"It brought me nothing."

Four words never more truly spoken by the man. He looked up at her, leaning forward slightly to emphasize his point. She smelled like disinfectant and caffeinated drinks.

"It would bring you nothing if you did what I did."

[member="Nida Perl"]

 

[Nida Perl]

Uh-oh.

Nida’s breath hitched in her throat. So often was she used to being the only empath in the room, that she’d forgotten her station and had let her baser emotions leak through. This was a place of healing, and she was a healer. It was embarrassing and unprofessional—this was how she was supposed to feel, but Nida couldn’t entirely bring herself to touch those feelings. Not yet, not when there was something more curious in front of her.

The anger and resentment she held at her past evaporated, pushed back into the annals of her mind once more. Instead, she focused on what [member="Thal"] had to say.

“It brought you here.” She spoke cooly, taking the time to look at him fully since she’d first walked into the room. Young, strong, angry. A force to be reckoned with, if all of those warning stickers were anything to go by.

Nida didn’t have the stomach to pursue anyone in revenge, anyhow. Her life had begun to blossom in meaning, at last, but it ushered in another question: Would it be enough?

“Is this where you expected to be, after it all?” A she lingered at his bedside, the softness in her eyes replaced with an ardent curiosity. “Is this where you wanted to be, Thal?” Nothing about her demeanor was unkind, but it lacked the serene gentleness that she’d entered the room with. Slowly, the layers were being peeled back.

 

[Thal Mantis]

"I don't know where I want to be. This is where I am."

He replied coldly. It was true. Thal was here, because truly, without the Silver Jedi, he had nothing. Nothing at all. He destroyed, he burned everything from his old life. He looked over at her, pushing aside himself, and the turmoil within. He could sense her doing the same. But less like him, more like someone ashamed of it, running from it. He leaned on the wall after a moment, looking out to the rain outside before speaking again. He was staring out the window while he spoke, fascinated by it. He always would be.

"You're hiding more than I did when I got here."

He watched the rain patter against the window. Never even had rain in the tower. Always inside, climate controlled, recycled oxygen. The floating space station never had anything remotely close to weather, to trees, to serenity. Just cages, metal, and blood. So much of it. He saw it in his dreams. In his nightmares. And in the waking hours of the day. He stared at it for a while, before turning to face her.

And she saw him for what he was. A monster, a brute, a savage. A marauder, a hyper-lethal vector with only a violent end. But he began to see her for what she was- or at least, what she was trying to move past. He looked down at his hands, well practiced instruments of death. He rubbed them together like a guilty child.

"It will never go away. You need to know that."

[member="Nida Perl"]

 

[Nida Perl]

"It will never go away. You need to know that."

Thal’s words weren’t the most heartening, but Nida had the feeling that he was speaking in earnest, from experience. A part of her always knew that no matter how fulfilling her life would get, her time as a slave would always be a part of her. How could it not? Her earliest memories were of those colorful rooms in the brothel that seemed to span the galaxy itself. It had been her world, but Nida was removed from that far earlier than Thal had been.

Absently, the Zeltron picked at her nails. “I know.” She uttered quietly. “I sometimes dream about it.” The air hung heavily around her as she finished speaking, as if she’d overstepped some sort of boundary. Daring a glance at Thal, she figured that he, too would often revisit his life in bondage while asleep. “But I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Nida believed this to be true. She had dedicated her life to healing, to protecting those who could not protect themselves. She had been taught that the Jedi do not harm, and she’d never had to defend herself with such an aggressive family watching over her, willing to jump in and tear anyone apart. Even with the fortunate circumstances she’d found herself in, the desire for retribution left her feeling guilty.

[member="Thal"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

"Every night."

He said blankly, still fumbling with his hands. He looked back up at her, for a moment, then back to his rubbing hands. "I dream about it every night. The blood, the rage. The violence. I remember it all, a bad movie playing in my mind every night." He stopped, letting them fall to his sides.

"I killed them all. I slaughtered them. I can barely remember the attack. Master Jade tried to stop me. But she failed. I killed them all. Like an uncaged animal." He turned his head back to the window, then curled his knees up slightly, glancing back at her.

"It didn't stop the dreams. But it did stop them."

He was justifying his revenge, his rampage. Perhaps it was the manner that he returned. If he had come under the guise of the law, with arrests and the righteousness behind him, he would have been better off. But, instead, he slaughtered them all, in such a manner that the Red Tower barely put up a defense. They trained him well, he gave them that.

"You'll find a way to hurt someone. There will come a time when even you will hurt someone. To save yourself or someone else. Sometimes... Sometimes evil isn't something you can get rid of with saving. Saving, talking, praying for... All that doesn't stop some people. Sometimes, evil, the dark side- slavers." He took special time to say the last word, saying it slowly. His speech had improved, his basic now only carrying the fleeting memory of an accent. But he took special care with that word. He knew that one, even when he didn't speak the galactic language like he did now. He stared out the window, then back to her.

"Do you know how you beat cancer, a disease?"

[member="Nida Perl"]

 

[Nida Perl]

As Thal spoke, Nida pulled a chair up to his bedside. It was the type of chair a doctor used for clinical exams—no back, wheels to roll around and maneuver. She kept her attention on him though, seated neatly, hands folded as she listened to Thal regale her with what he had dreamt of.

His words were haunting. She’d find a way to hurt someone, that anger would come out eventually and—

His questions was unprecedented, and it made Nida perk up a little. “There are many ways…surgery, a cocktail of drugs, radiotherapy.” While listing off the potential treatments for cancer, she knew that this was not the answer he was looking for.

Nida cleared her throat and straightened, wondering if Thal was getting any support. In glancing through his chart, she came to know that he’d been under the wing of one Vilaz Munin. “Do you…have any family members you can reach out to, Thal?” Family was often a lifeline, as it was for her. But the question was worded carefully, slowly, because so many had come to the Silvers having lost their family.

[member="Thal"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

"You fight it with all those things."

His head rolled back to face her. He tapped his fingers along the railing, sighing, before continuing. "There are some people in the galaxy, that you will find, that you will meet, that you will encounter, that cannot be saved. That there is goodness, but there is great evil. There are some people, persons, and things that are just.... beyond saving. Like a wounded animal in the wild. But they infect what they touch. Credits, the dark side of the Force, pick what you want to call it. But sometimes, my friend-" He leaned over briefly to emphasize his point.

"The righteous must sometimes spill blood themselves. Pacifism only serves to allow wicked men to inflict pain to others."

The topic of family came up. He leaned back in the bed, shuffling.

"I- Preliat Mantis, was my father- and my mother was essentially nothing more than a junkie after she had me. She sold me for drug money before I had the gift of memory. My father never knew of me. A tryst, or a one-night stand. Something to that effect. Outer Rim, somewhere, from what I could find out. So no. I have no family. All the ones I was close with in the Red Tower died in the pits. The Silver Jedi aren't much of a family to me either. Master Jade and Master Starchaser are kind enough- but they are hardly close enough to consider family."

He stopped, wiping watered eyes.

"All in all, to answer your question- no."

[member="Nida Perl"]