It's Never the Same River

[Bethany Kismet]

In the grand scheme of things, most people would hardly even call this a skirmish. It wasn't even a proper turf war, when one took the galactic scale into account. News of the event wouldn't even travel to the other side of the planet, let alone off world. It would barely register to those hearing about it after the fact beyond a casual 'That's a shame.'

But even the awareness of those things didn't change the fact that, to the people caught in the cross fire between two rival syndicates, it felt like their very world was crumbling around them.

Bethany Kismet ducked as blaster fire peppered the already burned shell of the wall behind her.

"No Michael, I didn't expect this or I would have brought you. It was just supposed to be standard run- Don't worry, I'll be fine. No Sith involvement. But I need you to bring a ship so I can extract civilians asap- oh, you're already on your way. I should have guessed. When you exit hyperspace, comm me and I'll give you coordinates- yes, I promise I'll be careful. May the Force be with you."

While she knew that [member="Michael Sardun"] was probably kicking himself right now, he couldn't be with her everywhere she went- and she really hadn't expected to run across trouble here and now.

But, as usual, trouble seemed to find her.

She'd never hear the end of it.

Clipping the comm to her belt, she peered up over the wall. There seemed to be a lull in the fighting for a moment. Emerald eyes cast across the nearly empty street. A small frown flickered over her features.

She'd promised him she'd be careful. But there was someone- probably someone who had nothing to do with any of this- face down in the road. She cast about, noting the open doorway not far from the figure's location. Checking the angle the blaster fire had come in from a moment before, she was fairly certain that wasn't it's point of origin.

Breathing in deeply, she tapped into the Force that was never truly separate from her. Channeling it through her body, she dashed out, faster than should have been possible. Blaster fire kissed the ground, but where she had been, not where she actually was. The Force augmenting her strength, it was just enough to scoop up the still form and dart into the open door.

She slammed it shut behind them, the sound of gunfire peppering the door at her back a heartbeat later. Sliding what was now obviously a young man to the floor, she looked up-

And realized she wasn't alone.

[member="Lethia Morow"]

 

[Lethia Morow]

For most people, being stuck in a war zone would be rather horrifying.

Lethia Morow was not most people.

True, it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience, and she could die at any given moment - but to be fair, she could die at any given moment anyway, in theory. Natural disaster, a random murder, getting hit by a speeder, bacteria, viral infection, parasites, any number of other things that Lethia couldn't begin to imagine; there was a vast and dizzying array of ways by which life could end, so spending one's time worrying about them just didn't make any sense.

Admittedly, that cavalier, roll-with-the-punches attitude was harder to maintain after being grazed a few times by blaster-fire, but Lethia did her best to remain as chipper as she could. She had patients to care for, after all. Her infirmary - if it could be called that - was ramshackle, consisting of a field surgery kit laid out on a table and a few bedrolls in the middle of a shelled-out convenience store. Hardly sanitary, hardly optimal, and yet - it was secure. Both sides of the conflict had apparently come to an unofficial agreement to let the strange girl alone. No one wanted to be the one who shot the medic.

All that said, Lethia hadn't expected someone to come barging through the front door. Limping, alright. Crawling, certainly. Running? No. Not typically.

When Kismet looked up, she'd be looking down the barrel of sleek, compact blaster pistol. The wielder of said pistol, a somewhat diminutive young blonde woman, spoke calmly and evenly. Her voice carried no trace of the utter terror that both the shaking of her hand and her presence in the Force betrayed.

"Move him to a mat, and then put your hands behind your head."

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany's eyes never wavered and she nodded very slowly to the taller girl.

"Of course," she said calmly.

She followed her intructions, moving him carefully to where indicated. All of her motions were slow and careful, deliberately not aggressive in any fashion. In truth, she didn't have an aggressive bone in her body, but she was specifically careful now.

As she stepped back, she raised her hands into the air, putting them behind her head. Through all of it, she had remained calm, even serene.

Bethany didn't look much like one would expect a Jedi Master to look. Positively diminutive, she looked young. Long black hair hung down her back in a single braid, and emerald eyes stilled on [member="Lethia Morow"]. She was dressed simply, not in Jedi robes but in a tunic and breeches tucked into sensible boots. No lightsaber hilt hung on her belt.

Though she followed the young woman's instructions, she did not, for a single moment, have to. The blaster was very little risk to her, no matter how much [member="Michael Sardun"] would be grinding his teeth if he knew about the situation unfolding. Even if it had been held by someone who's hands weren't shaking, she was little concerned by a single blaster in her sphere of awareness.

Her fear, however- that did concern her. Which was why she was following her instructions to the letter. Not because Bethany was afraid. But because Lethia was.

"I did not mean to barge in like that, but things were a little messy outside," she said, her voice still calm, even though the other woman had a weapon pointed at her.

"My name is Bethany..... and I'm here for the same reason you are."

 

[Lethia Morow]

Cooperation. That was a good start. Lethia kept the blaster more-or-less trained on the woman's head - at least until she put the man down. By that point, the medic had determined that her uninvited guest was no danger - not because she appeared harmless, though. In fact, it was quite the opposite; this woman - Bethany, apparently - shone blindingly bright in the Force. If she wanted, she could swat aside Lethia like a fly - and the fact that she hadn't done exactly that indicated that she had no desire to do so.

With that reassurance in mind, Lethia holstered her pistol and got down to the far more important business of healing. Impassive, analytical eyes wandered over the newest patient's form as Lethia retrieved a small recording device from her pocket. Considering she had so few patients, it was an entirely unnecessary precaution. But, you know, it was a good habit to get into anyway.

"Patient number six is a human male. Brunette, dark skinned. Appears to be mid-twenties. No uniform, so - civilian or dissident? I'll have to keep him away from the military patients, just in case. Moving on to injuries," The surprisingly calm woman paused for a moment, then made a quiet gulp noise - the first vocal sign of distress she'd uttered. "Various minor cuts and bruises along the arms and face, likely from falling to the pavement. Superficial wounds, but they'll need disinfecting. The Primary injury, however, appears to be the result of a direct blaster wound to the left foot. The flesh has melted in places, exposing bone and fusing to the patient's footwear. Conclusion: Amputation is necessary." A sharp beep indicated that the recording was over, and was quickly followed by a few hushed expletives.

Lethia turned to face Bethany, her expression still deadpan.

"I'm Lethia Morow. And if you're really here to help, find the disinfectant and assist me in cleaning the patient's wounds."

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany watched with a practiced eye as the other woman moved and spoke. While she was not a doctor, she had worked with them enough times to recognize the professionalism in her, despite the circumstances she found herself in. She nodded slightly to herself. And then, at [member="Lethia Morow"].

"I'm Bethany," she replied simply, already moving to find the disinfectant. Even with the Force at her disposal, there were certain things that were simply sensible. She moved slowly and deliberately, both out of habit and to keep the girl at ease. Retrieving the bottle and a small package with disposal sterile pads, she knelt beside them both.

She handed the materials over without another word. But she did reach out with the Force. A heartbeat passed before-

"Amputation may not be necessary," she said quietly, offering a gentle smile as she looked up.

"There are," she paused, her hand moving to his calf. "Other options. If I may?"

She didn't need Lethia's permission. After all, if the choice were to watch this man butchered unnecessarily or make the other woman uncomfortable, well, Bethany didn't even need to consider the choice. But she asked out of a habit of politeness in part.... but also to help further put the woman at ease by giving her the option of a certain agency in what was about to happen.

 

[Lethia Morow]

Lethia's immediate reaction to Bethany's suggestion was irritation, not that she let it show on her face. Whilst she knew that the other woman was only trying to help, she'd had to deal with one too many squeamish assistants in the past - people who couldn't do what needed to be done. The medic didn’t blame those people, of course – not everyone had the stomach for what she did. The Medic was quiet for a few seconds, deigning not to respond to Bethany’s question immediately. She had to think it over, after all.

On the one hand, Lethia could feel the power pouring off of her companion – bright and blinding, beautiful in its own way, but dangerous nonetheless. As she’d deduced before, if this woman suddenly decided that the best course of action was to toss Lethia to the side like a ragdoll, there wasn’t much she could do about it. Besides that, Bethany seemed kind-hearted and hadn’t shown any hints of idiocy so far; Lethia doubted that she would do anything harmful, whether on purpose or on accident.

But on the other hand – Lethia was a healer. And while she wasn’t a doctor, she’d taken similar oaths. There was no vow of pacifism holding her back, but she did have an obligation to protect and care for the wounded, and part of caring was not allowing her charges to suffer for longer than necessary.

A full minute passed before an answer was given.

“You have five minutes,” began the blonde woman, standing up and backing away ever so slightly from the pair. “If you can’t help him within that time, I’ll do what I have to. I’ll not have people suffering unduly because of sentiment or squeamishness.”

---


[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany only smiled. It was soft, the barest trace of a curve to her lips. But there was a knowing in it.

"My thanks," she said quietly. "Five minutes is very reasonable, and if you think anything is being held back for.... 'sentiment or squeamishness', then by all means, do what you need to do of course."

She wasn't here to prove anything, to her or anything else. She felt no desire to defend her actions, to refute the concerns of sentiment and squeamishness. She had far more important things to worry about than her ego or how her presence was perceived.

And in truth, in her experience, actions spoke far louder than words.

She sat, crossing her legs beside the man. Small hands traveled lightly over the wound. Very carefully, using the tools prepared, she cut off the damaged shoe. On the surface, it looked as though all of her attention was for that simple task. But through the Force?

Light filtered through from her to him.

Her fingers moved even as she filled him with the Force. Squeamish? No. Her hands moved across the ragged edges of the wound without flinching, and slowly, she started drawing melted plastic and material out of his flesh, pushing as much from within as she was pulling from the outside.

Force Healing wasn't 'magic'. But often, it looked that way from the outside.

Emerald eyes closed once she knew the wound was cleared.

That was when the line between what a doctor could do and what a Jedi could do shattered into a million shards of light.

[member="Lethia Morow"]

 

[Lethia Morow]

Lethia had heard that the Force could facilitate countless acts of seeming magic. Power over lightning, telekinesis, the ability to warp minds to another’s will. She’d even used it on occasion, to numb pain or to stave off infection. Yes, the Force was powerful, and useful.

Never had Lethia known that it could be so utterly nonsensical, however.

The young medic stood, mouth ever-so-slightly agape as she observed the blatant violation of medical science unfolding before her eyes. That…shouldn’t have been possible. Simple human biology prevented it. Cells did not replicate that quickly. The human metabolism didn’t act with such speed. And beyond that, the fact that there was inorganic material fused to the wound should’ve made what transpired utterly unsafe.

Yet Lethia saw it with her own eyes – burn scars healed, flesh knit itself back together, and by the end of Kismet’s display, the young man she was treating lay relatively unharmed. A bit battered still, sure, but considering a few moments ago he required amputation, well…suffice to say, Lethia was impressed.

"How-" Lethia paused for a half second – you could almost call it a stammer, if her voice wasn't completely monotone. As it stood, it sounded more like a droid's vocabulator had a glitch. "How did you do that?"

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany didn't really know if the light she could see was visible to others in the same way. It didn't seem to matter much, though she didn't specifically remember it always being this way. But how much had she forgotten about what it felt like to inhabit a human body, in half a millennia tied to Sekot? More than she remembered, truth be told. As she withdrew her hand, the glow faded.

She sat back on her heels, pulling the Force back in around her as she looked over at @Lethia Marow, a gentle smile on her face.

"The Force," she said simply.

"There are limitations," she continued as she leaned over, brushing the hair out of the young man's face. He would sleep for several hours- a necessary part of the healing process after what he'd been through. "But the limitations are..... different.... than what can be accomplished with technology."

Bethany stood, regarding Lethia for a moment.

"Is there anyone else here, who may benefit?"

The Jedi already knew the answer. But it wasn't her space. Lethia was in charge here, and she wasn't looking to take over.