Horizons ( Luke Skywalker )

chapter I

He remembered her; she wasn't hard to forget with her wild, red hair. Her green eyes were just as piercing as ever as she look at him. Luke shifted uncomfortably on his bed; he felt like a specimen being observed. But even as he felt that way, he couldn't keep his eyes from studying her. He had to remind himself (multiple times) that she was on the other side. She was the enemy.

But just like the Dark Side, she was tempting.

"Skywalker," she said stiffly. "I'm here to patch you up again."

He was reminded of the throbbing pain in his shoulder, and he brought up a hand to try to inspect it on his own. He hissed at the touch, and quickly brought his hand back down. The girl, who was now holding swabs and gauze in her hands, moved towards him. She may have been beautiful, but Luke wasn't stupid enough to underestimate her. He definitely wasn't stupid enough to think he could trust her. So, when she reached out to him, he quickly jerked away.

At the sight of his wincing, she gave him a pointed look. "Don't be an idiot." Again she reached out to him but, this time, Luke didn't pull away. She stood beside the bed, next to his dangling legs, and turned him away from her so she could have better access to his back. His dirty tunic had been thrown in some dusty corner before she entered, so his wound was open to her.

Luke ground his teeth as she worked on his shoulder and turned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of what she was doing.

His eyes quickly turned away from his marred shoulder and to her fixed expression. Her lip was caught between her teeth and her brow was furrowed in concentration. When he caught himself trying to pick out the different shades in her eyes, he looked away.

"How's that new hand working out?" She asked quietly.

"It's like I've never lost the first one." It wasn't completely true. The prosthetic felt different, just a little coarser than his real hand. He frequently found himself rubbing at the fake skin, as if trying to get used to the texture.  

He winced as he felt her pour a liquid over his wound. Breathe in, breathe out. He brought to mind the meditating techniques he had been taught. Find your peace... He hissed as another bout of pain hit his shoulders and before he could think it through, he asked, "Who are you?"

For a moment, she didn't bother replying. What was she supposed to say? But her silence just left Luke more puzzled; she worked for the emperor, obviously. But he had never seen her and Palpatine wasn't known for having many friends. She carried herself with dignity, though, and she looked tough. Real tough.

"I'm the only friend you've got in here,' she said quietly, never taking her eyes off of his wound.

He quirked an eyebrow, turning his head to look at her once again. He didn't know what he expected her to say but it certainly wasn't that. "Is that so?" Wariness started to settle in his gut as he wondered what game she was playing at. Suddenly, having her so close to his open shoulder didn't sound so good.

But she didn't pay any mind to his unease, just hummed and continued to fix up his shoulder. After a moment's hesitation, her fingers brushed against the smooth skin next to the vicious cut. She could just barely see the boy turn rigid at the touch and she wondered if he could tell how forced the action was. She wasn't skilled in the art of wooing. She was a warrior not... not a lover. And yet, it was what her master asked of her.