The Space Between

[Amz]

"If I can stop one life from aching, then I shall not live in vain."
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Chiara’s chest heaved in huffed breaths, the redhead sprawled out in the co-pilot seat next to Merrick in a very undignified manner.

Her once pristine Jedi robes were dusty and torn in places around her torso and arms. The pupils of her violet eyes were dilated, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She closed her eyes and focused on calming herself, taking slow and measured breaths, feeling her heart racing like a runaway railspeeder.

Together, they had completed a few Jedi excursions since their initial meeting and had started forming the bonds of friendship, which correlated well in their mission success rate. Heart-shaped lips pulled into a smile as she sat up, pushing the strands of fire-red hair off her sticky forehead.

This was probably their first near-death experience yet. “Well...that was....exhilarating, to say the least.”

Groaning to her feet she dusted off her tattered clothing and walked to Merrick, glancing down at the Naboo native. Instinctually, Chiara reached forward to brush away some blood from his cheek, but quickly retracted her fingers. “Ah...sorry, I...uhm.”

She cleared her throat softly.

“...Should take a look at your wounds. Where’s your med bay again?”

Merrick Sato

 

[Merrick Sato]

"Stalwart, I will stand, until mountains turn to sand."

Near-death, alright... but thoughts of the experience were shoved aside while he pulled Turhaya - his ship, an old J-type restored and made new as a gift from his parents for his eighteenth birthday, six years before - hard up and out of the atmosphere, punching it coreward when she reached space. When the stars began to streak, he slumped back in his seat and let out a deflating breath, as his newish companion began to hover. A slight turn of his head toward her, eyes catching the retreat of her fingers called forth sharp memories of his hair being brushed back by her. Merrick shifted his gaze back to the forward viewport and the whirl of hyperspace, biting back a deep sigh while Chiara began to speak.

Two months. That's all it had been. He swallowed, swiveled his chair a quarter, and looked at her better, the stream of what they'd just been through coming to the fore of his mind. A moment, and a genuine, light smile ensued, and a one-note laugh followed that, "down the main, third door on the left," he informed, his face turning serious on the next beat, "you're a good healer, Chiara."

Chiara Viren

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[Amz]

"If I can stop one life from aching, then I shall not live in vain."
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Chiara thought she recognized that haunted look in his eyes, the hurt that sometimes churned up to the surface that she noticed more and more, although brief as it usually was. Was it something she had done?

There was a question that she’d been meaning to ask him for a while, and she meant to get it out in the open. She supposed that now was as good a time as any, and she hoped that Merrick would not find it too awkward or painful of a subject to broach.

Leaving him with a gentle smile, Chiara re-emerged a short time later with the necessary supplies of bacta and bandages. She sunk into the seat next to Merrick and set the medical kit in her lap, opening it with a ‘pop’. “My father taught me, you know, most of it anyway. How to heal. He always had to treat some wound of mine, as a result of my propensity for getting into trouble…Did quite a good job of it, too.” A reminiscent smile tugged at her lips. “I had an overly curious nature. A bit of a wild child, believe it or not. Eventually, he decided I needed to learn for myself how to take care of my injuries for the times he might not be with me. Taught me what plants hurt, and which ones healed, how to make salves and ointments, how much bacta a person might need and the correct dosage, gave me holobooks to study and the room to try things out for myself. But, you know what books could never teach me?”

She began to fill a syringe with bacta, “How to heal the wounds on a soul.” she took the moment to look up at him and rested her free hand on the crook of his arm. “You don’t have to tell me about it, if it’s too painful, but if we’re going to be partners...then shouldn’t we know what sets each other off?” Hopefully, he would not think her to be too out of place in asking. The path of a Jedi could be a lonely road to follow, but it didn’t have to be, and she intended to help him in whichever capacity she was able.

“Now, can you please show me where you are injured?”

Merrick Sato

 

[Merrick Sato]

"Stalwart, I will stand, until mountains turn to sand."

Hearing an inkling of her past was a gift, an insight he hadn't asked for, but he was sincere with his words. He knew little about the art of healing, but seeing the results time and time again spoke enough of her skill, and this life could be thankless, but Jedi weren't meant to seek praise, yet honest, simple recognition wasn't verboten. Trying to imagine Chiara as a wild spirit was a little bit of a challenge, however, but that she might be well-read in some way could be a common thread between them. He didn't know enough; most of what he gleaned was from observation, but he'd been too reserved, too respectful, too mired in pushing past one of the reasons he'd left Naboo in the first place that didn't have anything to do with being more of a Jedi, to pry any further.

Then she dove right in to that pain. Holding her gaze when she looked up at him, getting very still from her hand on his arm with the words prying at the tear in his resolve, his mouth turned into a thin line... then he broke the gaze, his eyes lowering in a calm manner, slow, shallow breaths, rise and fall of the chest, being the only other movement as he wrestled internally with whether he could say anything about it at all, and still maintain his composure... but then, this specific a question meant he would have to say something sooner or later. He wasn't certain how long he could keep doing this, pretending it didn't exist, just because they weren't acquainted well enough.

"You're right," he conceded, the measured words having a faint waver, "and it isn't fair to you, and I'm endangering us both if I don't drop this act."

He sounded self-chastising, and a long sigh followed that concession, his eyes closing as the mote of tension from her touch began to leave him. He took another couple moments to gather himself, before proceeding.

"You may not be aware," he started, taking it slow, opening and raising his eyes to meet her gaze again, "but there was a ring in my pocket the day we met. Perhaps it might've not struck you as odd that a very well-dressed and well-groomed young man just wandered into an ancient temple to strike up a conversation with you."

His brow knit faintly, a corner of his mouth struggling to upturn in an attempt at looking wry. His eyes closed again, and he swallowed, a sharp breath exiting his nose. Merrick made eye contact again, before speaking.

"Her name was... is Evette, and before I saw you go into Shiraya's Temple, I... was on my knees in the tall grasses, folding... in on myself, because she had... she had released me from our bond before I could say the words."

Admitting it, acknowledging that reality, made his face fall, just short of outright tears. He looked almost haunted, and he may have been looking at Chiara, but she was out of focus. With one shaky breath, after which his lips firmly shut, his head dropped back against the chair, and he tried to think of addressing her other question, just to attempt to push on past having just bared his soul, the wound still raw.

"You... may have already noticed the... cut... just above the edge of my forehead, into my scalp."

Chiara Viren

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[Chiara Viren]

"If I can stop one life from aching, then I shall not live in vain."
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Chiara listened. She watched. She felt his hesitation, noted the wry smirk at the corner of his lips and the way he tried to mask his powerful emotions, quaking internally.

The entire time she remained completely focused, listening to what he had to say, to his story, feeling his words all the way down to her soul. While she didn't have the same experiences as him, she understood, to a degree, what he was going through. That feeling of your heart shattering in a disarray of pieces, the galaxy growing a bit darker, the absence of someone you loved, how it crippled the mind and seized your lungs.

Chiara understood heartbreak, she understood grief.

Seeing him so raw and exposed made her feel a tad guilty for bringing it up, that perhaps she'd crossed a line, despite her heart being in the right place when she inquired of it.

When he finished, she wanted to reach out and wrap him up in an embrace, offer him all of the support he needed, but respected their boundaries, and his space.

Sensing he was trying to move on, she stood now to examine the gash above his brow, gently dabbing the wound to clear the blood away, still trying to find the right words that might bring him some comfort. "She must have been very special, and very beautiful, I imagine." Chiara said, her voice much more gentle and soothing in her approach than the sting of ointment being applied as a disinfectant.

"Thank you for sharing this with me Merrick, I can only imagine how painful its been for you to carry this alone for as along as you have been."

Merrick Sato

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[Merrick Sato]

"Stalwart, I will stand, until mountains turn to sand."

At the comment on Evette's beauty, he said nothing, but his eyes squeezed lightly shut, against the sting of moisture at their corners. He let out a breath he'd been holding, willing the tumult of emotion to leave with it, an effort largely in vain. A sharp intake was the next breath, when the disinfecting ointment was put to the wound, and it forced his eyes open, tears being knocked free by the sting of the ointment, against his will.

"Well..." he started, clearing his throat after the word, from the physical effects of his sorrow, "....after running away with you and..." and unsteady smile touching his mouth, "...shacking up together for these past two months, it wouldn't do to remain mere acquaintances, now would it?"

Merrick glanced out the corner of his eyes at her, looking for any sort of reaction in her expression. Letting his pain out in the open wouldn't instantly close the wound, but sharing its existence would lessen its weight over time. And a little humour always helped.

"Thank you, Chiara, for being perceptive enough to not let me carry on being a sorry old sod, patient enough to listen to my woes, and..." he seemed to consider what he would say next, "...kind enough not to judge."

This wasn't the kind of treatment he could be guaranteed for such a sob, amongst the upper echelons of Nabooian society. That much was certain.

Chiara Viren

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