Endings, Beginnings

[Rugs]

For the first time in a long time, Locke could enjoy the luxury of not spending a day floating inside a kolto tank. It felt a treat, to use his own two legs as he wished — once he got past those first, wobbly steps.

Days and weeks ran together in the tank, broken up by brief stints of freedom while the kolto was changed or as doctors poked and prodded at him. He shivered at the thought; Locke had never been fond of doctors. He was, it turned out, less fond of dying — eternal Force be damned — and so acquiesced to their whims.

His wound was healed, with little more than a pair of matching scars on his back and front to show for it, but he’d developed a nasty infection. The Plague, if he had to guess, but for whatever reason, it hadn’t grown into the full-blown torment that Lidah and all the others had suffered. Locke could only guess timing had saved him. If the Archeri hadn’t been defeated...

Well, if they hadn’t been, you wouldn’t be here, would you?

He was free now, apparently back up to strength enough to care for himself — if still feeling a bit weaker than usual. It was surprising, in a way, to see such a health facility in the heart of Hutt Space, but he supposed a general lack of health infrastructure didn’t mean care wasn’t there for those who had the credits for it.

And Lidah Faine had credits to spare.

Locke finished shrugging on a light coat that was comfortable, if plain, and looked about to make sure he had his belongings. It was an easy check; he hadn’t come with much and Lidah had left what little he had from the battle aboard the Soothesayer.

He smiled at the thought of her. Opportunities for conversation had been few and far between since the end of the battle. Memories came in hazy, jumbled messes after the battle; Locke could remember watching the Spire fall, Ashardalon’s wings beating beneath him, that beautiful song... boarding the ship and being hauled off later on the ringworld.

And then the tank. For days and days.

As Locke left the room, door sliding shut behind him, he pulled his comm — the one he used for sensitive contacts — out. Wincing at the hundreds of unread messages he’d have to eventually filter through, he began typing one to Lidah.

Finally out of the tank. They let me walk by myself and everything. Want food that’s not in a tube?

Thinking of you,
-L

[Neology]

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“How can they still be missing?” Lidah frowned at the screen in her lap, scanning her office through the droid’s imperfect eyes. Having no neck, the entire unit rotated slowly until Curie came into view. “I’m sorry, Ms. Faine. We lost control of Mr. Yarloc’s sector sometime after your departure. We will, of course, keep looking.” ”And Forte?” The false name was clipped, sharp to her ears. She wasn't ready to forgive the young man for his blind betrayal -- though her heart insisted that she spare no expense in searching for him now. Locke would need to know. In response, the zeltronian receptionist merely shook her head. Following the liberation of Nar Shaddaa, Myaka Curie was the highest ranking member of the Blind Eye’s staff on-site and still on her feet. The Exchange owed her much. ”Damn. We must …” Lidah balled her hands into fists and lapsed into momentary silence, unable to piece together any immediate plan for collecting all their lost sheep. She blew out a long breath, wincing as it pulled at her staples. ”Apologies. I know you’re doing everything you can.” “And about the package you wanted to send, Ms. Faine? The painting.” ”Oh, of course.” The droid rotated again, then shone a bright beam of light over several pieces of art on the walls. It stopped before a particular strange landscape, hexagonal pillars of stone beneath a dusting of washed out fungal snow. An unsettling image of what she believed to be the Archeri home world, painted by one of their first known victims. ”This one. To Dr. Jones of the University of Agamar with my warmest and most effusive regards. Least he think I’ve been killed. Again.” The device in her hands chirped, a message alert marked at the highest priority. There were only two people on that very short list. Lidah hid a smile. ”That will be all. Thank you, Curie.” She scanned the contents of the brief message, then read it again before typing a quick response. Do you even have to ask? followed by the name of a quiet cafe, just across the pedway. It was, perhaps, not quite up to their usual adventurous standards. Though in light of recent events … Lidah thought that she could just about manage this without sending her doctors into fits. ”Hey.” Lidah smiled up at Locke from her float chair. It moved at a frustratingly slow pace, eventually setting down beside his table. Two nurses and an armed member of her security team hovered at a discreet distance. She did her best to ignore them and devoured Locke with her eyes. It had been over a year since she had seen him last – really seen him. That final assault on the second spire hardly counted. They had not been alone. She had not been quite in her right mind. Lidah reached for his hand. ”How are you feeling?”

[Rugs]

Do you even need to ask?

Locke smiled warmly. Lidah’s response had been quick. He had wondered if she might be otherwise occupied; the medical staff was good, and very thorough. They almost made Levin seem tame by comparison. Almost.

“I suppose this is farewell,” he said to no one in particular as he trudged away from his room. “I thank you, but I can’t say I’m going to miss you.”

---

The walk to the restaurant, a small cafe tucked into a quiet corner near the medical facility, was more exhausting than Locke expected. He was the first to arrive, and thankful for it, so the first sight Lidah would have of him in Force only knew how long wasn’t of him huffing as he settled wearily down into a sparsely-cushioned chair at a small, round table.

A server brought him some water, the glass fogged with condensation, and a pair of menus of flimsiplasts. Locke set them aside. The soups — for all his talk of wanting solid food — seemed appealing, but he was less concerned about ordering food and more eager to see Lidah again.

It had been months and months — an eternity, given the irreversible change that’d swept across the Galaxy in that span — since they’d had time to simply sit and talk and enjoy each other’s company. Not since that night in the small park on Nar Shaddaa before he left for Coruscant.

I wonder if that’s still there, he thought wistfully, remembering the bent willow tree and the floating lights. Would be a shame if it wasn’t.

It didn’t take long for Lidah to arrive, carried by a hoverchair. Locke felt a joy sweep over him as she approached, and extended his hand to hers.

“Better now, with you here,” he said, smiling as he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. Locke was aware of the nurses, of the security guard keeping an eye on them from a distance, and he did not care. Not after what they’d both been through back on Nar Shaddaa.

“I suspect I’ll have to get used to walking again, after so long in a kolto tank but...” he shrugged, “it could be worse. I’m just glad to be out. Doctors give me the willies.”

“And what about you?” He nodded subtly at the nurses lingering further back. “They’re not letting you all the way off the chain yet, I take it?”

[Neology]

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”Flirt.” Lidah groused but smiled nonetheless, a flush of pleasant warmth tingling on the back of her hand. Some of the tension she’d been carrying eased out of her shoulders and she sat back. How long had it been, since she felt so at ease? A year? Something like that. She’d said goodbye to Locke a few days before leaving for Prazhi. But there was something different now. She felt … At peace with herself. And that was slightly dangerous, to be sure. A complacent Compeer would be a dead Compeer in the uncertain days ahead. Yet she felt more in touch with the Force than at any other point in her life. Both sides. ”Ah.” Lidah’s gaze flickered to Locke’s collar, briefly, and tracked down across his body. His wounds had been so terrible … If she had not been so fatigued herself, no doubt the memory would haunt her. As it was, so much of that day blurred together into a confused, blood-slick haze. The stims she’d self-proscribed probably had some hand in that, as well. ”I’m to be careful with my staples.” She shrugged and cast and obvious glance at her escort. The nurses might have blended in just fine with the native topography, but the trooper was a bit of a stand-out in his black-and-orange uniform. He seemed vaguely embarrassed by this, hunched slightly to appear smaller. ”I could order them away, but they’d only worry if I did. I needed loyal doctors for, well … You know.” A nod of her head indicated the clinic. She couldn’t look at Locke for several moments, still slightly ashamed that he’d actually received that holonet message. When she’d been unable to reset that dead man’s switch. ”Some of them, I own their debt. Some we’ve helped get out of other uncomfortable situations over the years.” She’d had vague ideas of perhaps sponsoring promising young people for education in the core worlds, but that seemed no more than a dream by now. ”I’d prefer not to make them uncomfortable.” Lidah perused the menu, resigned to only the blandest and healthiest options. Doubt worried at her, until she moved her chair beside his. She rested her head lightly on Locke’s shoulder and breathed in. It seemed like cheap soap was a common point between hospitals and Jedi standard kit. ”For a long time, I’ve been terribly afraid of finding the point where you do draw the line. That’s … Been unfair, I’m sure. But it’s really good to see you.”

[Rugs]

Staples. Locke shivered. The treatment he’d gotten was bad enough, and he’d been unconscious for most of it. What had they done to close the hole the Archeri had left through his torso? He had bluntly asked to be spared details, beyond those needed to not worsen his condition, upon waking.

Some scarring remained—an off-color spot on his back with a smaller, matching partner on the side of his stomach—but not too much lingering pain.

Not yet, anyway.

He thought to say something light, about how Vance and that weird hacker kid and Jazen and her army of subordinates could keep things running for a few weeks while she had to take things easy, but her oblique reference to that email drew him to more serious thoughts.

The tank offered a lot of time unable to do anything of worth and with only himself for company. In those last days, as his body slowly returned to something halfway resembling normal operation, he’d had a lot of time to think.

Think about the crisis. Think about Lidah’s email, sent in a false-alarm of emergency, and the mammoth question it opened about the future.

“And it is good to see you. That’s what I wanted most while I was stuck in that tank.” Locke smiled warmly, hooking an arm around Lidah as she laid her head on his shoulder. “Listen, I know that message probably stressed you out a lot these past months,” he went on softly. “When you’ve had time to worry about something other than just staying alive to see another day.”

He breathed in deeply. They’d need to discuss some things, in detail, but the middle of a cafe was no place for that — no matter how loyal Circumstore was to the Exchange. “I’ve given it some thought,” he went on. “More than some, and here’s one thing I know — you haven’t found that line yet.”

Locke offered a smile and a gentle tightening of his hold in a sort of half-hug as he glanced down at the menu. The medics had said he shouldn’t push his luck with anything too heavy until his body readjusted to real food instead of whatever they’d been shooting into him to keep him alive. A soup with some sort of offworld beans — he supposed most agricultural products would have to come from offworld, here — caught his interest.

“If you’ve worried about what it said, don’t — at least not that it upset me or fumbled something.” He turned his head slightly, to look at her with his slate-grey eyes. “I think, once we’re both outta here, we’ll have some things to discuss.”

A pause, a warm smile as he yearned to say more but knew he could not, given their present location. “About building for the future.” Locke lifted the menu, then adding wryly, “And I don’t just mean which of these soups I’m gonna order here.”

[Neology]

Lidah tried to return Locke’s gaze, somewhat blurry at this close range. A few expressions flit across her face though guarded confusion was the dominant one. What was he saying--? Of course, while Locke was being typically evasive for the benefit of any possible observers, it was clear as day to her. There hadn’t been anything else objectionable about that email … Well, beyond the fear that someone he loved was dead. That was surely dreadful. She’d have to figure out a better way for settling her affairs in the future. A manual reset of automated messages had failed to account for injury. ”Are you sure?” It was impossible to dig into any of the why are you suddenly okay with this while they sat here, she had to know if Locke was serious. He had to be. While the man truly had an appalling sense of humor sometimes, he wasn’t cruel. But it would hurt too much to let that long resigned wish suddenly run rampant in her mind – and then find out there had been some terrible misunderstanding. Lidah stared around at the mostly empty cafe, not really seeing it. The infrastructure already existed, just across the pedway – though she’d have to search for the right personnel. It could take … Perhaps as little as a matter of months, if she was willing to commit enough of her personal funds. She squeezed Locke’s hand and ordered a fruit plate and some yogurt from the console. Her appetite had gone suddenly quite indifferent. After several minutes, she came to a question that had to be asked. ”How involved do you want to be?” Lidah turned her head back to watch his face. It was a hard question to ask when her instincts on this subject had ever been to tread lightly. They’d been scheduling around the Jedi for years, it wasn’t anything new in that regard … But it kind of was. Children and pets, they didn’t understand absence.

[Rugs]

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” Locke nodded but suspected the motion wasn’t necessary. His voice, his posture — none of the indications that he was playing a joke were present. There would be much to discuss later, he knew. The hows and the whys — things that they couldn’t discuss, here in the open.

“You have a lot of time to think about things in those tanks,” he said. The moments of lucidity had been infrequent, fleeting at the beginning, as his body struggled to simply survive. They’d grown longer, more frequent as he healed, giving him nothing but time to think, about a great many things.

Locke picked at the fruit Lidah had offered. He should have been more hungry, but the matter at hand weighed heavily on his mind. The Archeri Crisis was far from his first confrontation with death; he’d come face-to-face with it plenty of times during the Pan-Galactic War. But there was something different about it think he was going to die aboard the Spire, something different about the shock of thinking Lidah had been killed.

Lidah’s question was a more difficult one to answer. “As much as I can be,” he said, earnestly. It was hard to say for certain, with some facets of his time beyond his control. “I imagine it won’t be hard to stay out here more often for quite a while.”

The Archeri had ruined Hutt Space. Reconstruction would take years, under the best of circumstances, and the region’s decentralized power structure didn’t lend itself to that. There would be no shortage of work for a Jedi Investigator.

But if the Sith attacked again? If the Galaxy was torn apart again by war sweeping from one end to another?

“I wish I could say more than that,” he said. “I hope I can, once I’m back on my feet.” The Grandmaster had requested a meeting, on Nar Shadda. Locke hadn’t read the message yet, so he had no idea as to its purpose. “But whatever I have to do, whatever duties I can adjust so that I’m present as often as I can be, I’ll make it happen.”

“I wouldn’t suggest moving ahead with this if I was going to leave you to face it alone.” He paused. No, that wasn’t quite right. Lidah wouldn’t be alone, not with Vance and the others. “Without me, I should say. I’ll be there, however I can.”