Private Picking Up The Pieces

[Cato Harth]

Tawny eyes fluttered open as Cato at last stirred from unconsciousness. His vision was filled with a bright white, the room’s stark, clinical design coming into view in gradual detail. Rhythmic beeps disrupted the silence, and he lolled his head to the side to find the source: a heart monitor. Cato thought little of it, he grumbled and began to nestle himself back into the bed, more than happy to let sleep return to him once more.

Shouting.

Gunshots.

The hiss of a lightsaber. Lightsabers.

Pain. White, then red, then black.

Cato broke into a cold sweat, springing upright in his bed as recent events flooded back into his memory. He shouted in surprise, instincts kicking into fight-or-flight until the sharp, stinging pain in his abdomen brought him crashing back down into the bed. Cato remained immobilized for a few long moments while the sensation died down. “What the hell…” He muttered to himself, breath steadying as he collected himself, trying to piece everything together. “What happened?” He asked the silence.

Naria Harth​

 

[Naria Harth]

Naria hand was on his chest, holding him down as he rode through his predictable confusion. He's settle to find Naria standing over him, eyes tense and red-rimmed. The blanket she had used pooled to her feet, gathering forgotten there as she wordlessly untangled his cords from his panicked flailing.

“What happened?” He asked the silence.

"You were hurt. Voss." She looked anywhere but at him, retucking the blankets around his torso and patting, as if that would ease the pain she could see him wince agains.t

"We're back at Commenor. You'll be okay," she told him. Or was that for herself? She finally pulled her gaze to his, the guilt she tried to sooth running out of blankets to tuck.

"Do you remember anything?"

 

[Cato Harth]

Cato froze in place for a moment, his eyes darting over to the source of a familiar voice. Naria stood over him, already tidying up the mess. He began to register his surroundings as she spoke. A hospital room of some kind, he had finally realized. He looked back to his sister, staring at her intently even as she refused to make eye contact with him. She looked tired, worried.

“You were hurt. Voss.”

The memories that shocked him back into consciousness a few moments ago crept back more slowly this time, details more clear. He winced as she tucked the blanket back in. He slowly reached down, his fingers finding the stitched up wound that was keeping his insides where they were supposed to be.

“Do you remember anything?”

“Yeah… Sith made things complicated. Took care of it, though. The uh, commando got me pretty good, I guess.” Cato replayed their duel in his head, now recalling the other mark he had made. He snatched a datapad off the bedside table, using its screen to look at his reflection. As he had guessed, the slash from his vibroknife had left a scar diagonal across his left cheek.

“Aw, well...” He scoffed, setting down the device, “Chicks dig scars, right?” He’d hoped cracking a joke might ease the discomfort, though he only got out a single, forced chuckle. The stab wound made it hard to laugh too much.

The smile quickly disappeared from his face however as the end of his memories of Voss returned. His face twisted into a look of grim concern, “Where’s Risen? And Centin? Did they…”

Naria Harth​