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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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Aug 10, 2012 21:42:32 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on Aug 10, 2012 21:42:32 GMT -5
Flash…
He could see her clear as day. Her green skin glistened with perspiration as she lay next to him, a sweet smile played at her lips as she ran her fingers gently across his chest, also damp with sweat. He loved this woman, this he knew. He knew her, and yet, she seemed like a phantom that plagued his mind, a beautiful nameless face.
Flash…
A smile, rugged yet boyish at the same time beamed his way as the young man peered out from beneath a speeder. The young man reached a hand out to receive the hydrospanner from his hand. This young man was kin, but more than just family. Confidant, comrade, brother… brother… this young man, was his brother. But his name? What was his name? Was he too destined to never again be anything but a taunt at companionship?
Flash…
“Son…”
A voice. Far off and yet encompassed all. His mind reeled. This voice, the most important voice called to him like some faceless angel from across the vast reaches of time and shoals of dust. His heart soared as it shattered at the sound of a voice he knew he shouldn’t have heard. He wasn’t sure why he knew that the voice from afar evoked such a torrent within his heart and mind.
Flash…
“Son… it’s time to get up.”
Like some ancient gong the voice roared through his very existence. It ripped into his psyche and planted smells of freshly picked produce, of smoke from a bonfire, of the heady scent of cologne. The feeling of a heavy hand on his shoulder, the feeling of a cold trigger on patient fingers, of bottles clinking together in celebration was all too familiar. In his mind’s eye he saw a figure obscured by the setting sun, hands on his hip and the other around the shoulders of a woman. Not just any woman… his mother… which meant the voice was…
Flash…
“Son… it’s time to get up. You’ve been down long enough.”
He was in a building. A shuttle hangar by the look of it, and yet no vehicles were perched within its stark white walls. He sat on a bench. He looked to his right at the man that sat next to him. Tall and strong, with wide shoulders and a slight pot belly, a physique he recognized. Eye twinkled at him, grey blue… like his. Just like his. Bright white teeth flashed through a salt and pepper colored beard as the man smiled at him.
“Hello Junior.”
Only one man ever called him that. The most important man in his life, his role model, his mentor, his hero beamed at him with a pride only a father could ever hold. A father, no his father sat next to him dressed in a white tunic and matching pants.
“…Dad? But… you…you were hurt, I watched you…”
He choked before he could finish… I watched you die… It was impossible; there was no way his father could sit there. It hadn’t been long ago…
“Junior, you need to get your ass up. Al and Mo need you. Your friends and family need you. Dantooine needs you.”
He didn’t understand. He was needed? For what?
Flash…
Artillery screamed overhead and explosions rocked the land. Smoke and char clogged the evening sky as cities could be seen as they burned on the horizon. The screams of innocents rose to the heavens in a chorus meant for demonic entities to sip their wine to. He could see the look on his father’s face as he cradled his dead wife in his arms, his expression contorted into a mask of pain, fury, anguish. He watched as his father lay his wife’s body down onto Dantooine’s soft soil. He watched as his father grabbed the post hammer that lay within arm’s reach. He watched as his father rose to his full height. He watched as his father looked at the armored soldiers that began to approach. He watched as his father roared and charged the soldiers, and watched as he methodically broke their limbs and crushed their skulls with the massive maul.
The war. The struggle. The fight. The rebellion…
The Dantooine Liberation Army…
Flash…
“You remember now, don’t you Junior? The Sith are only becoming worse for Dantooine. Worse for her people. Worse for our family. It’s time Dutch. It’s time son. Rise now.”
“I- I can’t. I don’t understand… Dad, I don’t know how.”
“BS. Rise. Rise now. Get up, and get your ass in gear. Get them out of our home.”
“But…”
“No buts child. Rise now, rise from your ashes, rise from your prison.”
“How Dad? How!?”
“Simple. Stand up. All you need to do is rise.”
Dutch stared at his father’s face. He blinked a couple times before he placed his hands on his knees, flexed his body and rose from the bench. As he did, the hangar doors cracked with a loud bang. Light began to pour into the hangar. A light so blinding, so pure, so warm it washed over Dutch’s very being. He began to walk towards the doors as they slid ever more open. He paused for a moment, and looked back at his father still on the bench.
“Go Junior, don’t you worry, I’ll be here waiting for you. But don’t rush, you know how patient I am. Raised you and your brother, didn’t I? Go, complete your quest. And live, boy, live. Play with your brother, keep everyone safe.”
Dutch nodded, and couldn’t help but grin at the gravelly baritone of his father’s voice. He was right, Dutch wasn’t done yet. Not until his people were safe, and Dantooine once more shone. He began to take his final steps when his father cleared his throat.
“And Junior, she’s still waiting for you… don’t keep her waiting much longer.”
His father’s final words were accompanied by Erle’s trademark knowing wink, one that Dutch returned. He took a deep breath, clenched his fists and jaw, and crossed the threshold into the sea of light.
FLASH…
His eyes burned as light encompassed his vision. Light spots danced about his eyes and he began to gag. Hoarsely gasping he reached up to his face and felt cold rubber tubes that were snaked into his mouth and nostril. Dutch pulled on the tubes and gagged loudly as he pulled the medical tubing from his stomach and lungs. He felt his body recoil and retch as he vomited from the sensation. Dutch could hear the patter of his vomit as it hit the floor, but still couldn’t see anything.
“He-help!”
Dutch could barely breath let alone cry out for help. He tried to sit up but could feel his stiffened bones and muscles fight his will to rise up. That didn’t stop the man though, he exerted everything he had and rolled off the bed he had been lain out on and hit the ground with a clap.
“A-Al! Brother!”
He growled as he stumbled to his feet, still blinded from the white eternity that filled his vision. Dutch flailed and panted hoarsely as he felt around for something, anything to help him stand up. Cold metal blessed his fingertips as he found what felt like a table of sorts, and rested his body against it. It was then that he began to notice shadowy figures near him, obviously drawn by the commotion he made. Their shapes weren’t clear enough to tell who was in the room with him, but he hoped they were friendlies…
“I-I can’t see… who’s there? Where am I?”
And after a quick moment he realized he was cold everywhere, and to his slight horror Dutch realized…
“And why am I naked!?”
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Aug 10, 2012 22:55:49 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Aug 10, 2012 22:55:49 GMT -5
Nom Jervada was the type of young man who never seemed fully happy outside of a friendly chat in comfortable surroundings. In the rather uncomfortable surroundings of the Dantooine Liberation Army, he had taken to burying himself in any medical work he could just to stay reasonably sane.
Inventories, scrounging supplies for their infirmary... Tending the wounded of course. There were all kinds of injuries, both combat and non. Of particular interest had been the one called Dutch, in a coma. Given a proper medical facility, Nom was reasonably confident he could have treated that. But things were primitive here, and he'd accepted the explanation given to him. If it was going to end, it wouldn't be due to the hands of sentient beings.
Nom had largely forgotten the still form, and had stepped just outside the room when it happened. There was a series of odd sounds, gagging, thuds, and the sound of the heart rate monitor flatlining. Naturally Nom's heart skipped a beat and he raced back inside to find 'Coma Man,' as he'd started calling him, no longer in a coma. Instead he was awake, and spilling liquids onto the floor.
He'd ripped out his ventilator and his feeding tube, as well as his probes. Clearly strength wasn't an issue.
"Easy! Easy!" Nom called as he approached, medkit in hand. "You just ripped a tube out of your stomach. I have to seal up the hole you just made."
Nom came closer and tried to guide Coma Man to a position back where he'd been resting. He had to get some surgical sutures in now, to close up that stomach. It was bad to have inner organs exposed, assuming he'd learned anything at all from those years in medical school.
"And yeah, you're naked. I think there might be one of those gowns missing the ass on it around here somewhere. I'll find you one just as soon as you lie down and let me sew you up."
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Meira
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Aug 11, 2012 11:24:51 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Aug 11, 2012 11:24:51 GMT -5
"Mo! Watch me!"
Si'bul was balanced on a branch, some ten feet above where she sat, leaning against the base of the tree with her arms folded across her chest. Her blue eyes glanced up through the lower branches of the tree, catching only glimpses of sandy limbs as he darted through the leaves.
"Are you watching?"
"Yes."
"OK, here I go..."
Suddenly Si'bul wasn't in the tree any more. He was flying through the air, arms flapping and legs flailing. Mo's eyes widened and she jumped from her place, rushing to be underneath the boy when his fall brought him to the ground. But that didn't happen. With a thud and a creak of a strained branch, Si'bul was in the tree adjacent to the one he was just in, dangling by his arm. The forest was suddenly full of his laughter as he pumped his legs forward and back, causing the limb to groan and sway, but not break.
Mo put her hand on the tree's trunk for support as she tried to calm her heart rate. That boy would be the death of her, she was sure of it. But the sound of his glee forced an unwelcome smile onto her face. How could she not smile at hearing him so happy? She looked up again, brushing her ink black hair out of her face. Her eyes were scolding, but she shook her head at the boy and laughed.
Si'bul smiled back and let go of the branch, landing on a larger one a few feet below him. He hopped, catching another branch and swung down and down until he landed on the ground beside Mo. When he looked up at her, his grin stretched form ear to ear. His eyes were bright with pride and his shoulders rose and fell with his slightly labored breathing. Mo grabbed one of his tiny horns and shook his head.
"You're a little snot, you know that?"
"I know you are, but what am I?"
"Clever as always, 'bul."
Their moment was interrupted when the comm on Mo's speeder bike crackled to life and Glitch's voice called out. Mo totted over to the biked and answered back, still smiling and shaking her head at the Zabrak boy at her side. Glitch's voice could be heard again, but the words made no sense to the Mirialan woman.
"Come again? I didn't hear you." Mo said. For some reason, her heart rate had kicked back up and there was a sudden tightness in her lungs.
"I said get back here. Dutch is awake!"
Mo didn't move. She stared at the comm, mouth hanging open. Had she not been leaning against the speeder bike, she might have fallen over. She was frozen in that thought, in that impossible moment, until Si'bul punched her in the stomach.
"C'mon!" he implored as Mo doubled over, gulping for air. "Let's go!"
Stirred into action, Mo obeyed. She swung her leg over the bike and helped Si'bul climb up behind her. Once he had his helmet fastened, she started the bike and whipped it around to head back toward homestead.
"Why can't I come with you!?" Si'bul was in rare form, stomping his feet. His brown eyes blazed at the woman. Mo, to her benefit, was not caving in to her desires to not see the boy so upset.
"Because you have to feed Tiny."
"Tiny can wait! I want to see Dutch!"
"You will. He just woke up! He needs space. What he doesn't need is a walking safety hazard jumping all over him." Si'bul grunted and crossed his arms. "I'll bring you to see him later, promise."
Finally, the boy relented and stalked off. Once he was out of sight, Mo allowed her own nerves to come out. She wrung her fingers and chewed on her lip. OK, so Dutch was awake... The first person he should see would be Al, but he wouldn't be back for some time. He was out on a mission and Glitch wisely decided not to distract him. So that left... Mo. She wasn't exactly family, but she was the closest thing left at the moment.
Her footsteps echoed in her ears, impossibly loud, as she moved through the corridors. Everyone around her was going about their business. Only a very few knew what had happened. They'd tell everyone soon enough. She'd reached the corridor, Dutch's room was at the end. Each step brought her closer, yet she felt like this hallway would never end. Then, she was standing at the door, her hand hovering over the control, but she couldn't bring herself to open it.
What if he was still angry with her? Their fight had been just before he'd gotten hurt. They'd still been so angry with each other. Mo could feel her ears burn and her chest ache at the memory of that anger. She was so ashamed of herself. How could she do that to him? And how could she face him now? Had he woken with it still in his heart? She'd had time to regret the things she'd said, but was it all still fresh to him? Would he forgive her?
Her fingers grazed over the control, opening the door...
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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last online Apr 30, 2020 12:47:50 GMT -5
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Aug 11, 2012 23:22:14 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on Aug 11, 2012 23:22:14 GMT -5
An unfamiliar voice sounded out, accompanied by a wave of panic. If he was home, Dutch would recognize the voice and this one was far familiar. Despite the unfamiliarity the voice was a kind one, but that didn't stop Dutch from feebly trying to throw a right hook at the stranger. Luckily for Nom Dutch was feeble from a year bed bound and could barely lift his arm let alone knock someone out. He grunted and fell forward into Nom's waiting arms.
"Get off me..."
Dutch growled weakly. He let Nom take him back to his bed, still barely seeing. He didn't lay down, not after laying for so long. He reached a limp hand to feel around his abdomen at Nom's words about the stomach tube. His skin felt sticky and warm, he knew the feeling of blood on his flesh, and he knew when to hold 'em. He sighed and blinked a few time, his vision blurred less and less. Dutch decided this man wasn't Sith, Sith didn't fix wounds, they patched them so they wouldn't fully heal, for anyone captured by the Sith that was DLA, was a dead man walking. What choice did he have anyway but to trust this stranger? If Dutch didn't, chances are he'd bleed out.
"Thanks... I think. Am I home? I think I smell the medbay..."
He said gentler than before. No point in him being rude to the man that was trying to seal his self inflicted wound. Dutch shook his head as wooziness kicked in. Apparently tube feeding still made a person hungry after they awoke. His stomach growled audibly and Dutch smiled sheepishly. He was about to make a sarcastic comment about his stomach complaining when a wave dizziness rocked his mind and Dutch blinked several times and shook his head, his vision returned. Just in time for the door to the medbay to open.
His eyes beheld a familiar scene. The medbay for Homestead was a sight for sore eyes. It's grey stone walls and low ceiling with its bright lighting eased Dutch's worries of being captured. It wasn't the room that instantly comforted Dutch though... it was the sight of Mo standing there mere feet from him.
Without another word a burst of vigor sent Dutch back onto his feet and he pushed past Nom mid suture. It took Dutch only a couple steps to get to her. His right hand slid up to cradle the back of Mo's neck and his other hand hugged her hip and Dutch brought her close for an embrace. He could barely hear from the blood that pounded through his body as he held her.
"Mo... I'm so sorry..."
He whispered and just stood there in the embrace. Dutch could feel the back of his eyes warm up and tears spilled from his eyes onto Mo's shoulder. The mixture of happiness to see Mo and gratefulness to hold her overwhelmed the young man, his grip though weak was solid, the embrace of a man lost at sea for years, the embrace of a lover, the embrace of someone just happy to be alive. All these emotions boiled more and more within his chest until his shoulders began to heave and Dutch buried his face into Mo. He let the tears pour from his very soul and he began to laugh despite himself. He doubted anyone else could control themselves better in this situation.
Until he realized he was still completely nude.
Dutch was rarely abashed by his body, but this was not the case. He felt his cheeks turn bright red and he released Mo reluctantly. How he wanted to just hold her, take in her pleasant scent, and feel her body against his. But instead he coughed awkwardly and turned to the man who had started to patch him up.
"So uh, where's that gown bub?"
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last online Apr 19, 2013 18:45:53 GMT -5
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Aug 12, 2012 12:30:41 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Aug 12, 2012 12:30:41 GMT -5
After taking a swing at Nom, which the Republic medic ducked (surprising himself with his feat of agility), Coma Man yielded to medical treatment, and Nom directed him to the bed again, where he started to work with the sutures.
Stitching was really just sewing, except instead of a pair of pants it was someone's body. Of course it was a little hard without a nurse to render assistance. But this was field medicine, and you couldn't have all the luxuries. Nom was lucky enough to have gloves.
Of course there were two holes to fix up, the entry to to the stomach and the entry to the body. Naturally he started up on the inner one first, and just as he was closing the stitch with finesse enough to make his instructors at the Royal Naboo Academy of Medicine proud, Coma Man rose rapidly from the bed and raced up, knocking Nom to the side unceremoniously.
Mo had entered the room.
Nom stood there both patiently and awkwardly as he watched the Mirialan woman and human man embracing each other. It wasn't exactly too personal, but somehow Nom got the feeling there was a relationship here. It was the sort of time when he'd nod his head with a knowing look on his face. Sort of "I see what you did there..."
Of course he did feel pretty weird for just standing there and observing this personal moment, this little reunion that presumably left off from something else.
It made the human medic feel very much like the complete new guy, in fact, the newest of the new guys. The guy so new, he might as well be a complete stranger.
He stared off into a corner until the moment was over and Dutch asked for a gown.
"You get the gown after that hole is sealed and disinfected, so sit down and hold still."
They hadn't exactly taught bedside manner in the Toprawa Defense Forces. And he must have missed that class on Naboo. Well, he wasn't Rina. She was a gem, and he was... Well, not. It was amazing that woman loved him...
Nom sighed as he went back to work, with antiseptics to clean out that hole and sutures to seal it.
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Meira
She don't mess around
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Aug 13, 2012 17:34:20 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Aug 13, 2012 17:34:20 GMT -5
It wasn't that she didn't recognize him. Mo visited Dutch almost every day since they'd brought him to the medbay. She'd watched his body pale wither. The feeding tube kept him alive, but not moving for a year took it's toll on his body. They'd done their best to keep his hair cut and his beard shaved. This was definitely Dutch, just transformed. The shock was seeing this Dutch awake. It would be stupid to think that upon waking, he'd be back to how he was, but Mo still managed to be surprised at this sight.
So surprised, in fact, that she was unable to react when Dutch all but jumped from the bed and pulled her into his arms. At first, she remained rigid, her eyes widening in sudden confusion. But as she felt the gentle strength still present in his underused arms, Mo managed to relax and drape her own arms around his shoulders and back. She might have melted when she heard him whisper his apology. Mo closed her eyes at the words, stopping back tears that threatened to fall.
Dutch had no such restraint. As he began to cry, Mo squeezed his shoulders, and patted the back of his head. "Shhh, it's alright." She said to him softly. "I'm so glad you're awake!"
It was right about that time that Dutch let her go. When she searched his face, she found him blushing. Mo's brow furrowed at the sight. Was he embarrassed that he was crying. He then turned to Nom, who Mo had all but forgotten was there, and asked for a gown.
Because he was naked.
It was Mo's turn to blush. The red flared up in her cheeks, an odd look on her olive skin. She spun around on the spot, facing the door and clapped her hand over her mouth. "Do what he says, Dutch." she said over her shoulder. "I'll find you the gown."
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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Aug 14, 2012 12:56:47 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on Aug 14, 2012 12:56:47 GMT -5
Dutch snuffled and cleared his throat as Mo let go and turned around. But not before he noticed her flush deeply. Still got it! he thought to himself with a grin. It was then that a small thought crept into the back of his mind. He hadn't been awake quite long enough yet to remember the accident... until now. It hit him like a Sith tank going full tilt.
He saw it painfully clear. It had been a night just like any other. After their big argument, Dutch had kicked onto the Windchaser and flew to Flint to get a few drinks at his favorite cantina. Several Corellian ales and a few mystery drinks later, and he was about to head back to Homestead. He was drunk. And not just a little drunk, so drunk he mistook a trash can for a Sith spy droid.
Then he remembered getting onto the Windchaser, and watching the horizon as Dina began to rise. Her amber and crimson rays igniting Dantooine is a warm light. A slight breeze had picked up and the smells of Dantooine filled his nostrils. This was his world, and he would protect it...
Dutch had kicked off the ground and opened the throttle on his beloved speeder, and accelerated straight into an oncoming transport. Not just any transport either. His last memory of that morning was stumbling around to the transport to help anyone, only to look inside and see an entire family crumpled and broken. Bright red blood splashed around the cabin like some morbid paint job. A father sat slumped in his seat with a large pane of glass jutting out of his chest, and a mother thrown several meters from the wreck, still clinging to her twisted and mangled baby...
The young man suddenly collapsed to the ground and began violently vomiting anything and everything within his very being. Tears once more welled up and pattered onto the ground as Dutch began to scream and vomit on and off, guilt gnawed at his heart. A whole family, a family he had sworn to protect...
"What have I done... WHAT HAVE I DONE!"
He screamed as loud as he could, his arms came down to cradle his still bleeding stomach and Dutch lay his head on the cool rock ground and continued to howl in agony.
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Aug 14, 2012 20:19:35 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Aug 14, 2012 20:19:35 GMT -5
Out of the blue Coma Man fell onto the floor and vomited while screaming.
That was new.
If Nom were anyone besides himself, he might have noticed first and foremost that there was a rather large amount of liquidy brownishy vomit on his shoes. Instead, his eyes went as wide as saucers and he went into full crisis mode. It wasn't that he was afraid of vomit, though he had to admit it was far from his favorite substance, it was that he didn't like the reasons people vomited.
When such a dramatic reaction was had, the very first instinct was that something medical was wrong. That might not have been everyone's first impression, but Nom had a couple things going on those other people. The first was that he had medical training, and was inclined to look at things from a medical angle. The second thing was context. Coma Man was now out of his coma, which meant any one of a dozen things could happen to him as a side-effect of waking. Among those were seizures, nausea, and death. Shaking on the floor and vomiting were not good signs, as was screaming.
Nom hurriedly reached into a medkit and pulled out a syringe of the best sedative he had and applied what pressure he could to restrain Coma Man as he brought the needle down to his arm...
Incidentally, that screaming was really loud.
"Hold still dammit!" Nom yelled tersely.
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Meira
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Aug 16, 2012 21:09:06 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Aug 16, 2012 21:09:06 GMT -5
In the silence that followed that awkward moment, Mo moved herself around the walls of the room, keeping her gaze averted from Dutch. Eventually, she fumbled her way over to a set of cabinets and began to open and close them in search of that gown. She had just lifted up a box full of gauze when Dutch began screaming.
In that moment, embarrassment meant nothing. Mo whirled around, the box flying from her hands as she rushed toward Dutch who'd now collapsed onto the floor. She hesitated as he vomited, but his cries and the agony on his face pushed her past the point of being sickened at the sight. All that was left was concern for her friend.
As Nom moved in, so did Mo. She sat down on her knees just behind Dutch's head and lifted it up into her lap. His hair was soaked in his sweat, but she brushed her fingers through it anyway as she cradled his head. "Shhhhh." she soothed, starting to rock slightly.
Nom produced a needle then, and at first, Mo wanted to swat it out of the man's hand and punch him in the jaw. But he knew what he was doing, and he'd need all the help he could get to keep Dutch still. So Mo leaned herself over Dutch, trying to weigh down his shoulders and upper torso as best she could so that Nom could get the needle into his arm. When the task was done, Mo returned to stroking Dutch's hair.
She began to hum, a song she thought she'd forgotten. But of course she hadn't forgotten it. She never would. It meant warm nights in a safe bed. It was her mother's hands braiding her hair. It was her father's grave... her mother's last whispers. It was so much sadness, but the greatest comfort she knew. What else could she give him?
"One gonna hold my thoughts and another gonna hold my bones.
One gonna keep me warm and another gonna keep me cold..."
She could see his eyes starting to glaze over.
"One gonna hold my memory another gonna close the door.
One gonna leave me restless another wanting more..."
His eyes were fluttering now, heavy lidded. Mo brushed her fingers over them, encouraging him to let go and fall asleep again. Just for a little while. She thought.
"You're gonna keep my soul it was yours to have long ago." Mo leaned down and kissed Dutch's forehead as she whispered out the last words to the song. Then his face was peaceful, like it'd been all that time he was in the coma.
After a moment, Mo looked up at Nom. "Wake him back up as soon as you can, alright? He's been asleep long enough as it is."
((Lyrics from "Sybil I" by State Radio))
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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last online Apr 30, 2020 12:47:50 GMT -5
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Aug 16, 2012 23:55:15 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on Aug 16, 2012 23:55:15 GMT -5
Everything was nothing more than a red haze in Dutch's mind. The flashing images of the mangled family plagued his mind. How could this have happened? He had betrayed his own kin, fellow civilians who were probably trying to flee the city to find somewhere quiet in the country, somewhere the Sith wouldn't reach for many years... only to be dashed by Dutch's selfishness and stupidity. The guilt burrowed through the young man with unflinching resolve.
Until Mo stepped in.
Her light touch sang through Dutch's skin and her smell filled his senses. Her presence alone kept Dutch distracted enough to receive the injection. Sheer exhaustion stopped the young man from even reacting to the needle. His eyes looked up into Mo's even as the drugs began to set in, the narcotics flooded his veins and induced a sense of calm, a sense of peace...
Mo's song only furthered to relax Dutch, the familiar tune made his heart flutter slightly. That lullaby had long been a favorite of both Dutch's and Al's. The brothers never admitted it to anyone else but Mo, but when they were children, and would wake from a nightmare, it wasn't uncommon for them to go into Mo's room and lay in bed with her, and let her sing them to sleep. And even more so, no one else but Mo knew that Dutch did this more often than his brother even. The Mirialan woman had always been a source of comfort to Dutch...
As his eyes began to flutter shut, he sighed pleasantly at the feeling of her fingers on his face, and reached a limp hand up to lightly grasp Mo's hand.
"...Be here when I wake?"
He asked feebly, hardly able to whisper the words. But she would have heard them, just as the last thing he heard her say was meant only for him...
"You're gonna keep my soul it was yours to have long ago..."
The words swam in his mind as he slipped into his drug induced sleep. Just before he fully fell under the narcotic's seductive will for him to snooze, one last sentence was whispered.
"...and you'll have mine..."
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Aug 17, 2012 16:04:46 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Aug 17, 2012 16:04:46 GMT -5
Once Coma Guy lapsed into unconsciousness, Nom dealt with the used syringe and checked the heart rate, running every simple test he could to see what was physically wrong, gauging if this was a medical problem.
Based upon what he had seen, it wasn't. There was no physical reason for him to vomit or shake, or even scream. Apart from the recent stitches and the fact his stomach had likely shrunk greatly, Coma Guy was in perfect physical shape. Healthy as a clam. If clams were healthy...
The Republic Medic looked at Mo, as if the Mirialan woman was the fount of all knowledge, though in his defense, that assumption hadn't been particularly far off since his arrival. The green woman was far more likely to know exactly what the issue was here, what emotional issue it was. Assuming it was emotional, which was pretty much the only option.
"What in the nine Corellian hells just happened?" The human man asked as he ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair, which was getting long again. "Coma Guy just freaked me out big time."
A little forward and simple, but totally correct. Deliciously, it was spoken without any planning. Very typical of Nom Jervada and his Toprawa upbringing. Now if only someone was lecturing him in Ryl and there was the smell of cooking munch fungus...
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Meira
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Aug 17, 2012 18:19:36 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Aug 17, 2012 18:19:36 GMT -5
Mo held Dutch's hand gently as he slipped off to sleep. She sat there with his head still cradled in her lap just watching him. For so long, all she wanted was to see him stir, to open his eyes and come back. Back to the living, to the DLA, to his brother... to her. She'd given up on that ache he caused in her chest a long time ago, or at least she thought she had. Seeing him now -so alive, in so much pain, and now gone again- she knew she was only fooling herself. So much belonged to him. If she cut it out, there wouldn't be enough left to go on living.
"What in the nine Corellian hells just happened?"
Mo had almost forgotten Nom was there. She looked up from Dutch's peaceful face, though reluctantly. Nom looked flustered, as well he should be. Dutch was a formidable force in any state.
"Coma Guy just freaked me out big time."
Mo's jaw flexed. Slowly, she set Dutch's head onto the floor. Then, in one fluid motion, she shot toward Nom and dragged him up to his feet by his collar. A few forceful steps and she had the man pinned against the wall, her own face inches from his. Her eyes were ice.
"Don't. call. him. that." she said, her voice a dangerous calm. Her nostrils flared in anger and for a moment, she fantasized about the feel of his nose breaking under the weight of her fist.
Instead, she released her grip on the man's collar and turned away, her hands flexing into fists and then opening again. She grabbed at the bed sheet and pulled it off the mattress, letting it fall across Dutch's naked form on the floor. It took three good breaths before she could turn back and face Nom again.
"You're new, so you didn't know." she said, more for her own benefit than his. "This is Dutch Sampson, and you..." her voice caught and she had to clear her throat.
"I'll... I'll find some people to help you lift him."
Mo rushed from the room before anything else could be said. In the hall, she collapsed against a wall, hugging her knees to her chest as tears spilled over her eyes. Her mind and her heart were at such a war that she couldn't tell if they were tears or joy or sadness. What did it matter?
Get up.
She didn't want to move. Not if it meant it would take her farther away.
Stand. Up.
She felt numb, but she stood.
Go.
She did.
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Aug 17, 2012 20:05:08 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Aug 17, 2012 20:05:08 GMT -5
Before Nom could say "Good morning Miss Leopold, would you like a bouquet?" he found himself shoved up off the ground and into a wall. That would have been reason enough to utter an expletive, but instead it was done with a great deal of force. Combine that with absolutely no warning, and that fact Nom's self-defense instincts were about the same as a week old raisin being eaten by a kitten...
"Eeep!" Nom squeaked loudly as his eyes widened like saucers and his legs flailed trying to find the ground they'd been yanked away from.
He was promptly instructed not to call Coma Guy by the name of Coma Guy.
What he wondered was why he couldn't have just been told that nicely, possibly with a pat on the head, and maybe even a lollipop. Certainly that would have been a lot nicer than being slammed up against a wall.
"I can't remember his name!" Nom said as loudly as he could manage in the face of a very angry Mirialan woman who he had the sneaking suspicion was perfectly willing and able to break his arm. Or his leg. Or plural.
Somehow he doubted by the anger in those blue eyes that what he'd said would be excuse enough.
Much to Nom's surprise, rather than getting beaten up by a girl, as he'd been fully expecting, he was released, at which point he stood there very awkwardly pulling at his collar, which now felt tight.
Dutch Sampson. Yeah, that name was familiar. Of course he still didn't get the whole picture. When he'd been told the history of the DLA, it had been shortly after his ordeal, and the memories of his narrow escape from death had taken priority. He couldn't remember very much of that first day. It was like a strange blur with some frozen spots in it.
Mo left.
Nom still stood there stupidly, now feeling bad about himself.
Finally with a sigh he crouched down and got his shoulder under Dutch, lifting him back up onto the bed with immense effort. When done, he wiped the sweat that had built up on his forehead with his arm, and then he retired to a chair and simply sat there. Looking silly.
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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Aug 17, 2012 22:10:54 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on Aug 17, 2012 22:10:54 GMT -5
Dutch opened his eyes. No longer was he in the cool, comforting walls of Homestead's medbay with his head rested in Mo's lap. Sunlight shone down from between green leaves. A canopy of trees filled his vision, dantl trees. Not just any group of trees he realized... He sat up slowly and a couple of fallen leaves fell from his hair. Dutch looked down to see he was fully dressed, his trusty jacket lay down next to him, the imprint of someone's body still in it. For the life of him, he couldn't remember who had laid there with him. His eyes scanned the clearing he was laying in, the clearing where him, Mo and Al had been to so many times. For picnics. For afternoon naps. For sneaking a bottle of Dutch and Al's father's whiskey to try for the first time. This was the first time Dutch had ever been alone in it before. Not fully alone though, as the imprint in his jacket and blanket with a bottle of wine told. Two glasses lay there as well, one tipped over with just a drop of reddish purple fluid still in it. Dutch looked at it puzzled before he moved to his feet. A breeze picked up and ruffled his hair, the breeze was unusually cold considering the sunlight that sang through the trees. With a shudder he bent down to pick up his jacket and slide it on. "Hello?" Asked the young man as he slowly turned, his grey eyes scanned the treeline around the clearing to see nothing. His hand instinctively went to his hip to rest on his pistol's holster, but it wasn't there. How strange. Dutch never left Homestead without at least his trusty sidearm. His brow furrowed and he took in a slow breath, the air surprisingly cool on his throat. Once more he called out for someone, but got no answer. Until someone laughed. Dutch spun in the direction that he heard the laugh, and saw a figure disappear into the shadows of the woods. His heart skipped a beat and he leaped forward to give chase. With soft thuds his boots carried the man past tree after tree. Leaves and sticks crunched underfoot as Dutch ran, the occasional leaf fell from the canopy, but that was the only movement he saw. Until someone laughed. Once more he jumped and turned to the laughing person. He caught a glimpse of them. Silken black hair, green skin. Mo. "Mo! Wait!" Called out Dutch, his tone confused and far away, as if he himself hadn't said a thing. She ran away, her back to him. He followed. As Dutch continued to run, the woods around him began to grey and wither, as if each footstep was a hundred years of each tree's lifespan. Leaves began to fall like flakes from one of Al's favorite cereals. Each one that hit Dutch instantly turned to dust, and it wasn't long before the dust covered the ground like some sort of airy snow. Panic began to set into Dutch's heart. Why would she run? Why did she leave him in the clearing? Why didn't she answer him? He continued to pursue her, but with each step she seemed to get farther instead of closer. Her flinty laugh would ring in his mind, a bitter sweet sound considering her avoidance of him. He lost sight of Mo all of a sudden, and skidded to a stop. Dutch called out for her, he cried out for her, but she never responded. Heat began to build up in Dutch's eyes. He growled at the familiar stinging of tears as they began to fall. So many tears. For so long now. His tears left lines through the dust that had begun to coat Dutch's cheeks. He could feel them warm then cool on his face. Another cool burst of air picked up, and Dutch turned as he felt a presence near his. "Mo?" She stood there, right in front of him now. Mo smiled at him, and placed a gentle hand on his cheek wordlessly. Dutch reached his own hand up to cup hers, her skin was warm and comforting on his. He stepped forward and she did the same. He placed a hand on her hip as she moved her hands to lightly rest on his chest. She smiled coyly. He smiled back. They began to move closer as the wind picked up and shot dust clouds into the air. It didn't stop the two from moving their embrace closer. Mo's bright blues bore into Dutch's grey, and he tightened his grip around her waist as she moved her hands to wrap around his shoulders. His heart fluttered as his vision was filled with nothing but Mo's beauty. Their lips were mere fractions of an inch apart... A gunshot sounded. Dutch's eyes flew open as he felt Mo's body jerk violently. Her face continued to smile as her body went limp in his arms. "NO!" Roared Dutch as he felt hot fluid begin to cover himself and Mo. He lowered her body to the dusty ground and looked over her lithe form. A large exit would gaped at Dutch from above her left breast, and blood flowed from it like water. To his horror he watched as Mo faded away, her skin going pale and her bright blue eyes went pale. And then Mo liquified. Her body turned to water and poured over the ground to turn into runny mud in the dust. Dutch stared in horror. He could do nothing but watch as the woman he loved became nothingness. The woman he loved. --------------- Dutch opened his eyes. He looked around to see nothing but darkness. But the smell was familiar. The medbay. It was a dream. He was awake. Dutch's eyes looked over to a timepiece. It was late. Or early to be exact. Far too early for anyone to be awake. His hand reached over to hit the switch of the bedside lamp, and pale light shown. The curtains around his bed were closed, they had given him some privacy. He moved himself into a sitting position and felt the familiar tug of stitches in his abdomen. Dutch smiled, someone had retrieved a pair of his favorite sleeping pants for him to wear so he wasn't bare. He thought he knew who even. His grey eyes examined the spot where he was stitched up. Nothing serious, he had received worse. Dutch heard a sound from just outside the curtain and turned his eyes to the silhouette behind it. "I'm awake now. You can come in." He hoped it was that certain someone... |
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Meira
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Aug 19, 2012 14:15:34 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Aug 19, 2012 14:15:34 GMT -5
She'd retreated to cool off and, having done so, she felt rather stupid about the way she'd acted. She would have to remember to apologize to Nom. While gone, Mo checked on Si'bul. The boy now walked by her side, refusing to leave until he was allowed to see Dutch. After a few hours, Mo relented and said he could come along. They made a stop by the kitchens first to acquire some soup and bread. Mo knew that Dutch would have to take eating slow after living off of a tube for nearly a year. He probably wouldn't like it, but he wasn't going to be tearing into any steak just yet.
"Is he gonna take me on his bike?"
"No, he just woke up 'bul... he's still recovering."
"Well can he teach me how to shoot Buttercup?"
"Not yet."
"What -can-he do?" Si'bul looked disappointed. He couldn't imagine a Dutch that wasn't big and strong and breaking things. Mo had never brought him to see Dutch while he was out. She couldn't bear the idea of it.
"Anything." Mo replied with a smile and a sidelong glance at the Zabrak boy. "Once he's recovered. Now be quiet. He's still sleeping."
They approached the medical ward and Si'bul ceased his bounding and walked solemnly beside Mo. Even he could sense the change in tone. It wasn't sad or overly serious, but it was heavier somehow. But hopefully that would change. Dutch was awake now, he'd get better, and they'd find their way back to...
Back to what? The Sith were still here. They were still in hiding, scraping by day by day hoping for a chance to take back everything that was stolen from them. But they couldn't do that. Some things, some people, would never come back.
Mo shook her head. This wasn't a time to think like that. With her chin, Mo motioned for Si'bul to open the door. When he did, the two stepped through and made their way over to Dutch's bed. That was when she noticed the light was on. She could see his silhouette against the curtains. For some reason, she froze. It was still so strange to see him awake and moving. She'd only -just- gotten used to seeing him so still. Si'bul nudged her, pushing her toward the bed.
"C'moooon." he said.
"I'm awake now. You can come in."
She couldn't believe how much hearing his voice affected her. Mo's mouth went dry and she couldn't find the will to move. But it was all Si'bul needed. he threw the curtain aside and almost tossed the basket of bread over his shoulder as he charged toward Dutch. Just as he was about to jump on the man, Mo came back to her senses.
"Si'bul!"
The Zabrak boy stopped dead in his tracks, one foot already off the ground and frozen in the air for a moment before he slowly lowered it back down. His head ducked slightly and a pink flush of embarrassment spread across his sandy cheeks.
"Sorry." he mumbled. "Hi Dutch. We brought you some soup."
Mo came through the curtains then and set the tray she'd been carrying down on the bedside table. There were three containers, something between mugs and bowls, filled with a steamy broth. Si'bul brought over the basket of bread and handed it to Mo, who portioned out a few pieces for each of them.
"How do you feel?" she asked, finally looking up at him.
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Dutch
Darth Awesome, Specialist at Everything
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Aug 19, 2012 21:44:38 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on Aug 19, 2012 21:44:38 GMT -5
As the curtains were thrown open Dutch couldn't help but grin. Si'bul blasted through like a mynock outta hell, and the man was actually disappointed when Mo told him to hold his jets. The young zabrak boy's enthusiasm always made Dutch smile. In a lot of ways, Si'bul was a lot like Al when he was that age. Dutch laughed softly and moved his legs to sit over the side of his bed. He reached a hand over to lightly tap the bottom of Si'bul's chin.
"Hey kid. Look how big you've gotten!"
His words were completely true too. In the time since Dutch was out, the boy must have grown inches, and his horns were becoming more and more prominent. The boy's features were becoming less doughy too, his baby fat slowly was disappearing. Dutch couldn't help but laugh again at the site of the child, and shifted to show him his new wound.
"Check it out 'bul, got another one."
Dutch said with much pride in his voice. It was always one of Si'bul's favorite games to point at a scar on Dutch, then have the man tell the boy the heroic tale of how he got it. Most of the time the stories were hugely exaggerated... but that didn't stop Erle from doing the same when Dutch was Si'bul's age. It never ceased to amaze Dutch how as more and more time went on, his father seemed to be channeled through his eldest son.
He scooted back onto the bed and pressed the button to raise the back to better support him. Dutch wouldn't say it, and he hoped that he didn't show it, but even after sleeping, it was still exhausting just for him to sit up. The man patted the foot of his bed as he moved to sit back, a signal for Si'bul and Mo to sit there with him. Dutch crossed his legs and eyes the food that was brought to him. His stomach growled audibly. When Mo asked her question, Dutch grinned, that same trademark grin any of his friends and family would know only he could pull off.
"Starving babe, I feel like I haven't eaten in ages. Oh wait, that's right, I haven't."
Dutch hadn't even realized exactly how he spoke to Mo, his mind was occupied too much by his other love in life: Food. His hands greedily grabbed at the bread he was offered and nabbed his cup of soup. With the ferocity of a kath hound attacking a nerf, Dutch tore into the food. Words could not describe how good it felt to bite something, and he chugged the soup regularly after several chomps. It took mere seconds for Dutch to down the food. A big mistake.
His brows furrowed with confusion for a second before he realized what was about to happen. He quickly grabbed the steel tray that was next to his bed and vomited everything he had just eaten right back out. Apparently Nom had been insightful enough to realize that further vomiting would probably follow, and had left the tray for Dutch. He wiped his mouth on some sheets he pulled up from the bed, and used his other hand to wipe the tears that had formed from the forceful expulsion.
He smiled sheepishly at Mo and shrugged. If she needed more proof that Dutch really was still himself, the young man stupidly engorging then purging by accident was all the proof she'd need. Dutch shrugged and laid back in his raised bed.
"So, yeah. That was tasty."
Dutch chuckled and shot Si'bul a wink before he laid his head back into his pillow. His heart ached at the question he had been wanting to ask... but was honestly too afraid to. As wonderful as it was to see his beloved Mo, it crushed Dutch that he hadn't seen his baby brother yet. He tried. But covered it with a cough. He tried again, but looked down, his cheeks began to flush with slight panic. Dutch slowly turned watering eyes over to meet Mo's blues.
"Al?"
Was all the man could get out. His voice cracked slightly at the question as his throat seized in minor panic. After everything that had happened, to lose his last family member... his best friend... his little brother...
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Meira
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Aug 23, 2012 17:23:46 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Aug 23, 2012 17:23:46 GMT -5
A slight blush would touch Mo's cheeks when Dutch called her 'babe'. Luckily, no one would see it. There was something far more important to focus on. Within seconds, both the man and the boy on either side of Mo seized their meals and began what looked like a race to finish first. Si'bul mimicked the way Dutch tore into his food, his cheeks puffing out with the large bites of bread he was trying to cram in. If she weren't busy gawking at the two, she might have given the boy a quick slap over the head for his terrible manners. Instead, she hardly managed to shake her head at the two before...
Mo had to avert her eyes when Dutch began to heave into the pan that he'd hastily grabbed from the side table. Her nose wrinkled up and her lips contorted into a grimace at the sound of it. She couldn't stand such sounds. Si'bul began to guffaw around the chunks of bread in his mouth from his perch at the foot of the bed. This time, Mo had the wherewithal to give the boy a good thump. He was spewing crumbs everywhere.
Mo didn't turn back until she heard Dutch's quip, a sign that he was done vomiting. When she did, she saw the change in the man's expression. Patiently, she waited for him to put whatever strong feelings were affecting him into words. It came out as only one, and still he struggled.
"Al?"
Mo's smile was sympathetic. "He's out on a mission. He should be back soon." Her hand found his and gave it a quick squeeze to reassure him. "He'll be so happy to see you. Here..."
She slipped her hand back out of his and tore off a piece of bread, dipped it into her mug of soup, and held it up to Dutch for him to eat. She found it hard to meet his eyes, and so instead focused on his jaw line, his nose.
"Let's try keeping it down this time, yeah?"
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Dutch
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Aug 23, 2012 21:01:31 GMT -5
Post by Dutch on Aug 23, 2012 21:01:31 GMT -5
Dutch quickly looked away as a couple of hot tears fell down his cheeks. Never before had he felt so relieved. Al was still alive, and still carrying on the fight nonetheless. He was so proud of his little brother. So proud of Mo too, so proud of Si'bul, and everyone else that still fought the good fight. It had been a fear that he would have woken up to find out his friends and family wiped off the face of Dantooine. It would have been the death of Dutch. But that wasn't the case. He was alive, and they were alive. His eyes looked down at his hand. Mo's hand was warm, and still soft from the woman's youth. However, it still had the callouses from Aditi and small scars from various nicks and cuts. Not uncommon with the lifestyle of a freedom fighter. He squeezed her hand back gently. Which was really all he could do in his feeble state at this time.
He couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as she removed her hand from his. It had felt so right there, like it had belonged all along, like a piece returning to its lost puzzle. A quick frown of disappointment touched his lips but instantly turned into a grin at the thought of seeing his baby brother again.
"Good. I can't wait to see the lil' guy."
A chuckle escaped Dutch, hard for him not to when he called his clearly much taller little brother 'lil''. It felt like an eternity since he had seen his kin, his last living kin. His eyes moved up to look into Mo's, but slightly lifted a single eyebrow at her avoidance of his gaze. A smug grin slowly spread across his lips. He knew this behavior. And boy did he like to be the focus of it.
Dutch reached a hand out to take the food Mo offered him. He let his fingers linger against hers for just a brief moment, but long enough for her to tell what he was doing. With the food in hand Dutch brought it to his mouth more gently this time. He might of been hungry, but he knew enough now to not stuff his face this time. Dutch shot Si'bul a knowing look before his eyes looked back at Mo. He shot her a wink, one he knew she'd catch. If she would give him the coy look, he'd shoot her some of that irresistible Dutch charm.
Or what he hoped would be irresistible.
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Rugs
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Sept 3, 2012 12:19:42 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Sept 3, 2012 12:19:42 GMT -5
Al's steps echoed pitter-patter down narrow the hallway.
The youngest Sampson didn't often run through the Homestead's halls--not these days, when everything seemed to be so dark and so hard and so heavy. He was the leader now; a leader had to radiate poise. Control. Not run around like the boy he was.
But for today, for this moment, things were different. After so many losses and setbacks, after so many broken hopes and unanswered prayers, it was hard for Al to contain himself when something good happened.
And now something great was happening.
Al looked a mess; his hair was disheveled, his face was sooty, and he was bleeding from a cut just under his left eye. Missions had a way of doing that; Dantooine wouldn't gain her freedom again without the blood and sacrifice of her people. Yet, as he went lurching around a corner and leapt down a short set of stairs, Al couldn't have cared a lick if he'd been covered in kath droppings. Getting clean could wait.
He just hoped he hadn't been gone too long. The mission took priority, and he'd only been informed of what was happening when he made it back to the Homestead. How had he missed while he was out? How long had he kept the others waiting while he kept fighting the Sith out on the plains?
A door opened before him and he ran into the Homestead's little medical ward. One of the medical personnel, a young woman with dark brown hair and hazel, almond-shaped eyes saw him and waved. "Al. He's right back here."
"Right." Al felt his breath getting caught in his chest as he approached the door to the room. His throat felt tight. He felt tears threatening as he remembered the first words he'd heard when he got back.
"Al! He's awake!"
Al paused behind the door for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves and steady his shaking hands. Then he pushed it open and stepped in.
And there, sitting in the hospital bed with food being handed to him, was his big brother.
Tears overwhelmed him as he ran to the bed, blood, soot and all.
"Dutch!"
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Meira
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Sept 4, 2012 16:49:33 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Sept 4, 2012 16:49:33 GMT -5
As his fingers lingered over hers when he took the food, Mo looked down, back to the mug. Once he had the piece of bread, she quickly pulled her hand away and busied herself preparing him another bite. She blushed more, much to her embarrassment.
Si'bul, still gobbling away at his own food, watched the two with curiosity. It had been a long time since he'd seen these two together, what with Dutch being asleep and all, but even he could tell that the way they acted seemed strange. Well, the way Mo acted seemed strange. Dutch seemed the same as he always was. When Si'bul locked eyes with Dutch, he caught the glance, but not necessarily all that it implied.
The wink caused Mo to flush again as she handed Dutch another piece of soup soaked bread. Si'bul couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. "Are you sick too Mo? Your face looks funny."
Just then, the door opened and Mo welcomed the distraction. It was Al. He looked like he'd just got in. Of course he had. He was going to get the news as soon as he returned, and it looked like he'd wasted no time coming to see his brother. Sensing what was about to happen, Mo gathered her mug and the bread and quickly stood up from the bed, moving off to the side to give Dutch and Al the space they needed for their reunion.
After setting down the mug and bread, she quickly grabbed Si'bul by the arm and pulled him away as well. When it looked like he was going to protest, she put her finger to his lips and gave him a threatening glare. He would not interrupt this moment.
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