Private In the Wake of Heartbreak (Solo)

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

Silver Rest
Kashyyyk

Streaks of sunlight shone through the plain curtains of the nearby window and onto the wounded soldier's face, causing him to stir from his rest. That familiar Kashyyyk sun, hot and overbearing. Not warm and comforting like the spirit of his grandfather back home. In a daze Thirdas scanned his surroundings bit by bit, his weary gaze sweeping from the window to his right, passing over his own two feet poking up under the white covers, until his eyes settled on the form of his father sitting by his left bedside.

"Papa...?"

His old man mustered a hopeful smile at his son's awakening, despite the hours of despair preceding this moment relief. Holding Thirdas' hand of flesh and blood tightly, Thurion wept tears of joy as he pressed his lips to it.

"Thank the Gods," he whispered, reaching for his son's head to let his fingers wander through his unkempt hair. But Thirdas grew anxious, looking around further for signs of another.

"Kyra, is she..." The reassuring voice of his father interjected. "Kyra is alright, just a few cuts and bruises. They released her a few days ago."

The back of his head sunk back down into the softness of the pillow, his immediate fears put to rest. His right hand settled upon his abdomen where he'd been stabbed. There was a stiff sensation, but no pain. All that remained was a distinct scar in the shape of the dagger which had been plunged into him... by the one he loved.

He'd hoped against hope that it had all just been a bad dream.

He gripped his father's hand tighter as he was reminded of the opposite, his face contorting in pain. Not physical pain, but that of the heart.

"Dad... I couldn't save her. I tried so hard to keep her safe, I swore repeatedly I would. But I couldn't, it wasn't enough... I could have done more, should have done more!"

Even before the first tears of despair were shed his father had already wrapped his arms around his youngest, and the cub in turn clinged to the king of their pride as he sobbed, lamenting his greatest failure. He'd failed everyone; Nida, her mother Joza, his own parents, the Gods. Himself. With what right could he ever be allowed to enter through the gates of Beornskald had he actually drowned in that river? He only deserved to burn eternally in hellfire.

His father said nothing, for he knew any words would be of little comfort. Instead he simply held his son in his warm embrace, never letting go for what seemed like hours on end as tears kept pouring out of his little boy.

 

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

Slowly but surely he was able to dress himself for the first time, sending one arm through the sleeve of the shirt followed by the other and letting the rest of the fabric just fall to cover his torso. The boots were the hardest part, having to lean that far down just to pull them onto his feet. Thankfully he did not have any laces to tie or it would have taken the better part of the day.

He was being released today. His ribs had mended back into place and his vitals had been shown to be holding steady for the last week or so. The doctors let him go with a warning to not overexert himself in the next month, or he ran the risk of permanent damage. Did those eggheads not know, he'd already been inflicted permanent damage of a different kind.

As he exited the building and strode out into the midday sun for the first time since Yavin, a pair of what appeared to be raw recruits on leave from whatever unit they served with recognised the lieutenant, be it by insignia or by his unmistakable right arm, and stopped to salute the man. He didn't respond, simply walking past the two boys with coldness in his eyes and stiffness in his stride.

He was going home.

The NCO quarters were a lot less busy these days, ever since Commenor became the new hub for military activity. Many of the apartments now stood empty, but his remained just as he and Nida had left it.

Unlocking it with the use of his keycard, the door was pulled to the side and he stepped inside. No-one had lived here since before Yavin, and he'd just spent the last month at the hospital. The first detail he was hit with was how the potted flowers Nida had been so pleased to introduce to their home had all but wilted where they stood on the window sill.

The couch where they would spend their evenings watching old horror vids stirred up a cloud of dust as he sat in it. Old dishes in the kitchen they'd been to lazy to deal with the night before leaving for Yavin had their leftovers grow stale and moldy. They'd just wash them upon their return.

At last, Thirdas attempted to curl up in their old bed, sheets hastily made the morning of taking off. It was always intended to be a one-person bed, however as he lay there now all alone, it felt bigger and emptier than ever before. If he closed his eyes and reached out, he could almost feel her body lying beside his where it had night upon night.

But his hand found naught but air in her place, and fell against the sheets in defeat. He couldn't sleep there anymore.

He got out of bed and wandered into the bathroom, shuffling like a zombie. He splashed some water on his face before looking himself in the mirror. During his stay at the hospital his hair had been left to grow out on its own, no longer the short tuft of blonde atop his head.

Feth it. Feth all of it.

He threw a punch at the mirror, sending shards of glass crashing against the bathroom floor and even some debris as he removed his metal fist from the hole he'd made in the wall. There he slumped down amidst the broken glass, no care for whether they would cut him up in the process.

He sat there in the dark for hours, seething with self-loathing until he would eventually pass out.

 

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

It took until the next day for him to regain some need to carry on living. Self-preservation drove him to seek out sustenance, and so he shuffled off to the kitchen to at least make something. Anything. Inspiration was sorely lacking in him for the time being.

He didn't like the quietness of living alone. After he'd made his meager dinner he sunk down into his trusty couch and put on one of Nida's ancient horror vids. He watched her favourite one, though the viewing experience vastly differed when watching it alone. No-one to make fun of the poor quality or shoddy acting with, or discuss whether the plot makes sense or not. Just you and a crappy movie.

Having gotten at least some nourishment out of his lackluster cooking, Thirdas fell asleep to the old vid.

As always, he dreamed of Nida.

Waking up the following morning, it was as if he'd had the first good night's sleep in forever. He'd regained his energy, at least enough to bother taking care of himself once more. He made breakfast in the form of a couple egg sandwiches, a glass of juice. He made his bed, washed the moldy old dishes, cleaned up the mess he'd created in the bathroom. Even threw out the wilted flowers on the window sill.

He did all these things to tidy up the apartment, because when he returned with Nida Perl to their home it would be as they'd left it.

Once finished, he simply took his mother's rifle and left, locking the front door after him.

He was going back out there to find her.