I Can Make It Better

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Silara"]

He carried no flowers.

No stuffed bears.

Nothing that a man going to see a woman should have had.

Instead he carried a piece of paper, a small scribbling, a tiny note. It was the only thing that he had on him, tucked away safely inside of his coat pocket, hidden from view to everyone. There was a reason for that, a reason why he was trying to forget about that note, one that he had penned himself and intended to give away today.

His face was grim, his beard was scruffy and his eyes looked as though he had not slept in several days. That was the general atmosphere he carried with him as he stepped through the second doorway of the intensive care unit, tired, worn out, and worried.

The last was an odd thing, one that had seemingly appeared out of no where, one that had struck him like a brick wall. It had been doubly so, because he had never felt such a thing before, not for a long while anyway, not since Violet and Fiona had passed away. Yet when he had heard the news, when the call had been made to Titan and he had learned of it, Alric had felt his stomach drop to the deepest pits.

He couldn't explain it if he tried, but he had heard what happened, and then he had heard her name.

Her.

Why had it been her?

Another doorway was passed, and the lights overhead seemed to shift to a more dull white. The nurses and staff began to thin, and he saw the doorway ahead. Room 303. Her room. He didn't understand his reaction, he didn't understand himself, but at the moment he very much didn't care.

Another few steps took him towards the door, his hand pressing against the button with almost too much force. The durasteel door slid to the side revealing her, showing her laying there in the hospital bed. For a moment he stood there, looking at her, simply staring.

She was still beautiful.

 

[Ellie Mors]

When she woke there was no sound, simply a slight humming in her right ear, attempting to open her eyes created a strange tunnel vision that seemed more focused on the right side of the room than the left, and she could not feel her right leg or left arm. It wasn't until she actually looked down at herself - positioned in a propped up position on the hospital bed - that she realized what had happened just prior to her loss of consciousness and the period afterwards. It took a minute to take it all in, to really let it get to her, when she realized she was effectively a crippled Sith Lord. Clearly panic would set in first, as noted by her sudden increase in heart rate and lack of reasoning - completely oblivious at the moment to the possibility of prosthesis or other aid - and following that would be resignation. The slow-tilt of her head back to stare up at the ceiling afforded her that. Although she was not yet aware of it, a man was slowly approaching her room, her desire to feel through the force waning with her increasing depression. There would be no praise, no flowers, no gifts or smiles for her. She would be shamed, publicly, and then beaten and humiliated before her ostracizing before the Dark Lord. Everything she'd strode for, all of her plans, everything was in turmoil because of one single act of mercy. She'd trusted the Jedi to have some sense of honor, to leave her be when she turned her back, but instead she received a wound that was entirely unwanted and unexpected. A sharp intake of air and she felt the sensation of stinging at her eyes. The sound of the door sliding open caused her to refrain from any more signs of vulnerability, though when she tried to wipe away the start of tears she found her right hand strapped to the bed and she cursed her folly.

But the man who walked in both calmed her and chilled her to the very bone simultaneously. It was chilling to see someone who had wanted to visit her desperately, yet to have him see her in such a state. Embarrassment was an understatement, she might as well have been chained to a wall and covered in bruises. Here was she, strapped to a bed, missing the majority of left arm from her shoulder down, and almost entirely covered in bandages, save most of her face and upper right side of her body. She wanted to cry, she truly did, and the lack of words presented to her at his arrival only enhanced this feeling. Yet the situation between the two of them only made her own personal wishes, and perhaps his - she wasn't too sure how this all worked out for the billionaire, all the more impossible in such a setting. So she smiled - a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Come to check on the cripple before she gets sent away?" She asked softly, her voice as small as it had been during their first meeting but strained and hastened. It was clear she'd been crying or on the verge of such just moment before. Had her hand been free to move, along with her arm, she'd gesture for the man to come closer, so instead she settled on a nod of her head. "Come over here, I won't bite." Silara beckoned with a smirk, vainly trying to make light of her situation.

-

Across the hall were a group of doctors, scientists, mechanics, and so forth that all had been given the express orders of fulfilling the request for a prosthetic arm and hand for the Sith Lord who sat immobile nearby. It would not be prepared for her until several days after her leave from the hospital was granted. "Her arm is to be made specifically for her body mass and size, roughly two and a half kilograms." A man in a gray coat said, looking around the small room and at the two robotic arms poised to assemble the prosthetic. "A holographic datapad is to be included just beneath the wrist joint, inlaid on the Duralium-Lanthanide plating that is to cover the wiring, circuitry, power cell, and tungsten rods that you see before you now. The plating will be covered on the outside with a tin wire mesh that will act as a faraday mesh to ensure the Lady does not lose mobility or access to her vital equipment inlaid within." He continued, retrieving a small remote from behind the table that he stood beside, clicking a button to bring up a holographic display of the detailed schematics of the arm.

"Any questions? No? Then let us begin, fellows."

[member="Alric Kuhn"]

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Silara"]

He didn't say anything.

Alric didn't answer her joke with another. He did not offer a quip or a charismatic remark. He did not even give her a compliment. Instead he simply fell forward. Saying that he stepped would have been wrong, for he did not walk as any man in a normal situation would. Instead he stumbled as if wounded or injured, as if her pain was his own.

He moved tot he side of her bed, his footsteps shuffled and quiet, grating slightly.

His eyes changed as he reached her. His gaze shifting over her worm, studying, analyzing and gauging the extent of her injuries. Alric was no medical doctor, but he could tell the hurt that had happened to her. He noted the bandages wrapped around her, the paleness of her skin and the shift of color in her hair. The absence of a hand that had once caressed his skin and so tenderly touched him.

Panic set in, but he did not know why.

As he looked at her, gazed at her, Alric did not feel pity or regret. He did not feel depression. Instead it was panic that wormed his way into his heart. Panic at the thought of losing her, at the chance that whatever they had could have ended so abruptly.

She had once told him that he talked too much.

It was a critique that fit Alric Kuhn well. He used his voice and his charisma to get what he wanted, using a silver tongue to seduce and convince like the devil himself. Yet now he was at a loss for words. Anything he could have said would be a wasted effort, any placating words or soft condolences he could have offered her would have felt empty.

So instead Alric did what came most naturally to him in that moment.

He leaned over, gently cupping her chin as he had done on that office floor, and kissed her.

 

[Ellie Mors]

There were times when a Sith Lord could feel anxiety not unlike fear, not the primal, raw, sort, but the absence of confidence. Inferiority. [member="Alric Kuhn"] was to her as the Dark Lord was to Vitium. The most important man in the Galaxy, and when that man did not respond to her childish jabs, it worried her. She looked to his hands, to his face, and the solemn expression struck her heart like a piano chord. Thoughts of rejection raced through her head, panic settled in, her already ghostly white face paced, she seemed aged. Beauty was, perhaps, in the eye of the beholder, but it was aided by artificial means. Silara may have been a vixen in her youth, but six years had passed since her sexual prime was coming to its end, and now she was simply a woman that was mildly attractive - the dark side beginning to take its hold on her shell of a body now that she had been so grievously wounded in battle, as if the darkness literally seeped from the cauterized wounds and through bandages to drain away the color from her. There were, luckily, no drastic wrinkles, no patches of silvery hair, and her lips were still almost as full as they had been in her youth. Good genes, she always supposed. But his silence came to her as apprehension, an unspoken and unseen recoil at her appearance. It chilled her heart.

'Are we ov-'

The fledgling thought had barely the time to form into words in her brain before he cupped her chin and pulled his face down to meet hers. For a moment she felt shock, her eyes instinctively having shut tightly at the approach of his hand. But when she felt the warmth of his lips on hers, the same warmth she felt whenever they touched. It was like the flames of the dark side that burned inside of her, only refreshing like a blanket in a freeze. It was how she knew she loved him. "I won't leave you, I won't ever risk hurting you again, I promise." Came her voice between strained whimpers, wishing only that she could embrace him now, that the restraints that held her down against her will would become undone. It simply was not meant to be. Had her tear ducts not been permanently damaged, Silara's face would have been saturated in her own tears, and the only sign that she was crying, physically, was her reddened face and the expression plastered on it. She didn't care what the fething Sith said about her, she didn't give a kark if Carach would drop the support he had been subtly giving her. Her loyalty as Silara was to one man alone, and increasingly her other persona began less and less of a different entity and more of an accumulative mass. Yes, she was delirious to most in her unwavering devotion as Darth Vitium to the Dark Lord, but her love for Alric was immeasurable to the Sith Lord, just as the importance of the two were incomparable. They bore the same weight. But even that she felt was unfair to the two. They were two different people, and when she thought about it her heart ached. She would not love another, Alric was her one. The Dark Lord would have to shift to a different role, perhaps something a bit less friendly.

She knew he, at this moment, would be preparing her punishment. Perhaps a public display of her removal from the ranks of the One Sith, so she would need to make her final moments count if she wished to save her title. But for the moment Alric was with her, and he provided far more comfort than success could ever bring.

-

Perhaps the most difficult part of the human body's construction is the correct density of bone, if one were to attempt to manually recreate a proportionate replica that is. They were made of several things, of which calcium was generally one of the most abundant. Within it was filled with what humans referred to as the marrow, the spongy material that contained the cells which would replenish the bones as they aged and the veins which coursed through it. While recreating bone marrow was less than ideal, the assembling a perfect replica of the human arm, hand, and fingers was no easy task. Replicating one without the original for a specific person to create visual and dexterous synchronicity was downright impossible. But so those tasked with the creation of Silara's began the assembly with the previously made tungsten replicas, placing them across a wire frame. "Careful now, remember to place the joints in with each section of bone. Wouldn't want our lovely Sith Lord to have our heads taken off for making her unable to move her pinky, now would we?" Came the instructional voice of the doctor, likely the only man who knew the human body as intimately as one would hope - but it was his knowledge of the Sith Lord's body that made him the prime choice. Wouldn't want the secret of her stillborn child to leak out to her lovely boyfriend, would they?

[member="Alric Kuhn"]

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He smiled at her, still cupping her chin in his palm and hovering only a few inches away from her face. It didn't mater that she was scarred and burned, it didn't matter that she was broken and mutilated. For Alric it had never been about how beautiful she was or how unarguably stunning she had been. No. He had had beautiful women. He had had models, playgirls, princesses and Trade Queens.

None of them had done what She had.

None of them had caught him and snared him like [member="Silara"] Vantai.

She had given herself to him. Completely and totally. Everything that she was, everything that she had, everything that she would ever be, she had offered it to him.

And he had taken it.

That was the difference. He didn't know it. He didn't know that was why he cared for her, why he was so infatuated with her, why he found himself running across Coruscant to reach this hospital. Thy he had scribbled that little note in his pocket and was more than ready to give it to her. Yet Alric didn't seem to care. All that he cared about her was her, all that he cared about was her safety and well being.

He kissed her one more time, stopping her before she could whimper more words. His hand fell away from her face, gently sliding down her body, grazing it so as not to hurt her injures.

His palm came to the leather restraints. Anger flashed across his face, but it was not towards her. He knew why they were there, why they had been applied. Yet a touch of possessiveness came over him. Alric did not like the thought of Silara chained and bound, not by anyone but him anyway. His hand tightened, loosening the belt of the restraint and freeing her wrist. His hand took hers, enveloping and holding it, bringing it to his lips.

One by one he kissed her knuckles, gently prodding them.

“I know.” He said finally. “Everything will be okay.”

His voice was solid as stone, his grip on her tight but gentle. He stood firmly by her side, the Titan that would support her.

 

[Ellie Mors]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kw0dlPsy2mY[/media]​

It was as it always had been. The face of the man who stood over her burned brightly in her mind, seared forever into memory to never be forgotten. The firm, yet gentle, touch, the caring kiss of his lips to her hand. He was everything she ever could have wanted, everything she needed - that she never deserved. She, a Sith Lord, whom had killed countless innocents, betrayed hundreds to achieve her own ends, how had Silara earned what she did not rightfully own? How was she capable of finding love in this dark, decrepit, cesspit of a galaxy? Often times she found herself questioning her worth when she was sleeping with him, by his side, but doubt always scattered to the winds when she felt his warmth, his touch. An embrace or simply a gentle press of her hand, it didn't matter what he did. She may be an object of desire in his eyes, or even a subject of love, of what amounted to it - but he was her rock, her anchor, he held her grounded and made her feel as she never had. Compassion, true love, they had been lies spat in her face by others, lies that were exposed when she was left in the past. Her love for him was unconditional, forever and always. And when he spoke those words of comfort she could feel her heart skip a beat. Where a broken woman had been lying now lay a calmed, tamed, being. Everything was better not because it was, not because the potential for such was there, but because [member="Alric Kuhn"] had said so, had promised her. Whether things turned out for the worse, she did not care. He had told her it would be okay, he had held her hand, held her heart, and he had comforted her. Whether he had realized it or not, his gestures were warming to the heart, and her frozen heart melted to his touch, grew hot from his words.

"I love you." Silara whispered.

It was as if in that moment, that instance of impulse, her entire life was spun out before her. It did not matter that the force did not show her a clear path, that confusion was wrought throughout, that she herself did not know how to feel, to act, all that mattered was one thing and one thing only. She wanted him to love her as she loved him, for him to feel the surging of a tidal wave of overwhelming emotions. Perhaps love and obsession had blended together, maybe her passionate personality was bleeding through into her conscious thoughts, but all she wanted now was to spend the rest of her life with the only man, the only person, to have cared enough to even come to see her. Perhaps she had not gotten flowers, chocolates, or a stuffed animal of some sort, but she had been given something far more permanent - Alric had given her reassurance, like a guiding hand, a rope for the blind. "I don't know how else to say it, Alric, but I love you." She stammered, unable to find an explanation for why, how. She simply did. She simply was. She wished she could bring it to words, to explain how she felt, to explain why, but she could only ascertain what. And that was that she was simply in love. Silara looked up to Alric, not expecting anything but a response, an honest one.

It was surprising that all these months had passed and it was only now that she was affirming what she had been feeling all this time.

Perhaps there was something more to the woman than her hard exterior, than her softer shell - perhaps she was as fragile as Alric knew her to be.

-

Wrapped around the bones were the veins and muscle tissue, sinew strewn throughout, and this mechanical arm was no different. Various wires, circuitry, and miscellaneous parts were entwined with each other like a twisting vine around the tungsten bone, each one bearing a purpose unique to themselves, and perhaps equally important to the metallic bone structure beneath. "Careful with the wiring, if they fold there is risk of potential damage that would mean undoing all of this to start all over again, either now or in the future." The man instructed, carefully observing the task driven by robotic arms steered by two cybernetic mechanics. At any other time the doctor himself would have simply used a generic synthetic arm to satisfy the patient, but in the case of high-profile sorts he was often given a greater payment to oversee the construction of unique, one-of-a-kind prosthesis. Objectively it was a pain that was as a rule unacceptable, but in the case of such high-rollers as the very Sith Lord who had some unspoken - at least to the general government of Coruscant that was established after the Sith arrived - authority over all the innerworkings planet-side and quite a stretch beyond, it was bearable. Subjectively he knew the patient from a previous emergency surgery, one which was finally corrected some months ago. As the construction went on he held a slight twinkle in his eye, the faintest of smiles gathering at the corner of his lips. 'How quickly they grow.' The thought no sooner established itself in the man's head when he glanced down at the name imprinted as the woman's given name. Indeed, she was indeed the same woman whom had been in a room much like that which she was currently laying in now, only some years older. Her injuries then had been mostly internal, but the grief she'd carried had dwarfed whatever pain that losing her arm had imparted on her. There was nothing more disturbing, more cruel, than to lose one's child, to helplessly watch their chest stop moving, their heart stop beating. Infants were innocent, born without the faults of their parents, and for them to die purposefully in their mother's arms, as if a punishment for some forbidden tryst, was a tragedy.

That's how he remembered Silara, the young Sith acolyte whom had dyed her hair blonde to escape from her roots.

How he remembered the little girl that had grown up so quickly from when he first remembered her. From when he first held her head in his hand, when he had almost felt the same loss as her.

How he remembered when he discovered the loss of a grandchild.

How he remembered his daughter.

She would simply never know.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric didn't move.

He froze in place, his lips pressed against her knuckles. The sound of her voice washed over her, the words she spoke driving into him like a nail. Surprisingly, they did not make him want to run away, they did not make him want to flee.

Instead, they held him in place.

Alrics eyes slowly closed, a deep breath passing through his lungs. The admittance from her, the three little words that pressed into his heart. It was like a flash of warmth that echoed through his body. He had always believed her when she said that she was his, had always taken her at her words. There had never been a lie to him, had never been any action that would make him think she belonged to anyone else.

But those three little words.

They seemed to make things real.

Yet he couldn't say them himself. It wasn't that he didn't love Silara, for deep down buried within him he knew that he did. Down in the deepest pits, buried beneath his status as a bachelor, womanizer, and all around tool, Alric knew that he loved Silara. He was just not ready to admit it yet, not to himself at least.

Perhaps she would know.

Perhaps she would see the look in his eyes, the total facet of commitment. The complete and utter devotion in his gaze.

Perhaps that would tell her all she needed to know.

“I have something for you.” His hand slipped away from hers, and slowly he reached into his jacket pocket. From it he pulled the folded piece of flimsy, his hands fidgety and his gaze looking everywhere but her face. This would be the first time Silara saw him vulnerable. He unfolded the note, aware that she would not be able to do so, then almost sheepishly gave it to her.

The Note:

Spoiler

Upon the four times folded piece of flimsy were the almost comically childish scribblings of Alric Kuhn. His handwriting looking like that of a fifth grader, barely legiable and clearly written in a hurry, perhaps just before he had made his way over to the hospital.

Silara.

I have never felt as I do now. The pain that grips my chest, the worry that bites at my heart, the fear that gnaws at my every thought. My concern, my worry for you, its...

The next part of the note was scribbled out and unreadable, and went on to say.

I don't know if I ever told you, but there have been two people in my life that I have ever truly cared about. Their names were Violet and Fiona. They were my sisters. They raised me in a household with an absent father and an abusive mother. They taught me everything I know. I cared for them with all my heart. They were the only people I have ever truly missed when I was away from them. They were the only people I truly cared for. They were the only people that could make me feel anxiety and joy at the same time.

...Until I met you.

I don't know what that means. I don't know what will happen. But I know you say you're mine, that you belong to me...

Again there was a slight scribbling on the note, a crossing out of a few sentences.

...If you will have me, I offer the same to you. You will have me to yourself, and I you. You will get everything I have to offer. Wealth, homes, ships. I don't care.

As long as I get you in return.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Silence.

Her sad smile, born out of the awkwardness of suddenly blabbering about nonsense like love - something petty and insignificance, quickly faltered. She heard the sigh, and her heart leaped. Her stomach sank. She wanted to be mad, to be upset, but she knew it wouldn't be fair - you couldn't force someone to feel the same, you couldn't expect them to just flip a switch and fall head over heels, not like she had. Had she? Doubt was a formidable thing, it challenge the process of thought and ushered those affected back to the status quo. Did she truly love him, or was she simply desperate for someone to care for her - now that she was sure to be cast out. Her eyes closed for a moment, but then Alric's words interrupted her thoughts.

"I have something for you."​

At this point she didn't expect much, perhaps a card or a hidden toy. Both of which would have comforted her just fine, the latter perhaps more than the former. But instead he unfolded a piece of paper and stuffed it in her hand, not once looking at her. For a moment she hesitated, unsure whether this would be a good thing or not, but eventually gave in to the urge to read his writing and almost immediately gasped. He hadn't told her that he loved her, perhaps he wasn't ready - perhaps he'd never be ready - but his words were exactly what she needed now, and when she looked up to him, red in the face, she reached up with her freed hand, hoping to get close enough to his face. Just a touch, he knew the feeling. She lost the hand she had done it with so many times before. "Thank you, this means everything to me." She whispered, smiling softly.

[member="Alric Kuhn"]

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Silara"]

Alric smiled.

His left hand lifted, enveloping the palm that had touched his face. Her hand was tiny compared to his, so small her\ was able to wrap around it easily. He felt the warmth and softness of her palm, letting it rest on the scratchiness of his beard. He applied a pit of pressure, squeezing her hand is if once again saying that everything was going to be okay. That she was going to be alright.

His other hand slid towards her body, carefully avoiding any of the bandages or wounded areas. He touched her midriff, a part of her that was slightly exposed. His thumb stroked gently across her skin in a soothing motion.

Stark blue eyes shifted to look at her again, a sheepish, embarrassed smile on his lips, a flush of red touching his cheeks.

“I'll stay.” Alric said quietly. “I'll stay with you.”

He smiled at her, using one of his legs to kick out and pull a metal chair towards himself. He sat down, taking her hand in his and simply holding it, his thumb still stroking the skin of her midriff. “If they try to kick me out I'll just buy the hospital.”

Alric smiled, though it was difficult to tell if he was actually joking.

 

[Ellie Mors]

For all it was worth, she hurt inside. It wasn't that he didn't love her, that she was frustrated with his hesitance, but it was because she simply couldn't have it that burned her. It was like being just beyond arm's reach of an impossible goal, only to be barred from achieving it. Such was Alric's heart, a steel wall put up against her. She wasn't certain why, perhaps the loss of his sisters had some effect on it, but a part of her thought that perhaps he had a former lover, someone he couldn't get over.

That hurt.

Perhaps she was treated the same way as one would one they love, perhaps he did love her, but it was the feeling that she was just the replacement that made her feel.. inferior. Ever since the second night they'd been together she'd progressively become less and less aggressive with the man, and he more with her. There were times when she was on the border of feeling threatened, but she chalked it up to him thinking she liked it. Maybe she did.

But her thoughts were rambling, and Alric's words brought her back to the present. His touch as he pulled her hand up told her he didn't forget her habit, perhaps her favorite one, of gently rubbing the palm of her left hand along his cheek - on more than one occasion poking fun at his stubble. Now they seemed like halcyon days, days she wished they could stumble back into. Whereas he was cute and embarrassed, she was distant and remote. It was often this way when she spoke or thought about him, though usually without him being around. "You're.." She started, suddenly lost as she stared into his blue eyes. They were so calm, piercing, and often she wished her dull silver eyes were like his, or at least bore some color. Almost on instinct she burned the memory of his face into her head, and she smiled. "Such a dork." Silara finished with a smirk. Her pause had been a bit long, but for some reason it felt worthwhile for her. The force still had not given her a sign of what was to come - not in a clear or obvious way, though if she had been paying attention perhaps the sudden urge to simply take in Alric's face would have given her some warning - and so she was less than hesitant about enjoying herself, even if it was in a hospital bed before corrective surgery. "Promise me you'll be here for me when I wake up?" She said quietly, much in the same tone she made whenever she begged him to ignore a client call.

[member="Alric Kuhn"]

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He smiled at her.

If he didn't know that it would hurt her, if he would bring her immense pain, Alric very likely would have crawled into that bed with her and held her. He knew that was what she wanted, what she craved. He wanted to give it to her, ached to do so, but knew it would be foolish, knew that it would only harm her. So he simply stayed at her side.

His hand remained on hers, letting her soft touch lay on the coarse hairs of his beard. His thumb stroked gently across her midriff. He did long to simply hold her, envelope her tiny form in his arms.

“I will.” His answer was two syllables, strong and confident, a promise that he would keep even if it were to be the death of him. At that moment he didn't care about Titan Industries. He didn't care about the contracts he had to fulfill, the meeting he had to go to, or the calls he had to take. All that mattered was [member="Silara"], all that mattered was her health, her well being, and the fact that she loved him.

“A charging Wookiee couldn't keep me away.” He smiled at her, his words ringing true.

He would be there.

Always.