All of the Stars

Part 22: Saviour

You turn your head, dull pounding starting behind your eyes but you try to ignore it.

"Kylo..." You croak, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay Miss. We have him." Another voice floats down to you, making its way through the murkiness in your brain.

You shut your eyes again, the pain reaching a higher intensity. Flashes of colour behind your eyelids along with the noise and hum of dozens of voices all shouting, panicking.

You felt blinded by the flashes of pain, longing for darkness. You turn your head and retch, but your throat is dry and raw, instead, tears come to your eyes from the sudden needle sharp stabs of pain.

"Water, I need water!" The voice yells. You squeeze your eyes tighter shut, shying away from the voice.

A glass is brought to your lips and you gulp it down, feeling the cool flow through your body.

"We need hydration, quick!" A different voice is heard of the cacophony of boots on metal, orders and various clangs. You feel yourself gently lowered onto a cool table, a hand holds onto your lower arm and twists it, pushing a needle into the crook of your elbow. Over the fiery pain in the rest of your body, you barely notice it.

A sudden rocking to the table alerts you to it being moved, lights penetrating through your eyelids flicker as you are moved beneath them.

"Stop here." The gurney stops, a door opens and shuts, you stop moving. The voices are silenced, along with the background noise that you had woken to.

You fade back into the darkness, giving in.

Your head pounds, bringing you further out of the haze of sleep as it pushes itself painstakingly to the forefront of your mind. You open your eyes slowly, wary of the light.

Instead, you find yourself in a bare room. Three plain white walls surround you, with your gurney placed in the middle, on the fourth wall a large mirror spans the space.

Opening your eyes wider you look down at yourself.

Your blanket is gone and in its place a thin blue medical sheet. You move your arm and wince, feeling a tug. Turning your head once more you find a thin needle poking into your arm, from it a tube with drips of clear liquid eventually reaching a clear bag come.

Sitting up you inspect the bag, checking for signs of what could be entering your body. Gently pulling at it you take it out of your arm and let it fall.

You hang your legs off the side of the gurney and look around once more. You catch your gaze in the mirror and focus more on what you see.

Your eyes are red and puffy, surrounded by a blue tinge in the fluorescent light. Your lips are swollen and cracked, you bring your hand to them, wincing at the scabs that sting as you open your mouth gently. You look at your fingers, now against your flushed cheek, tipped in blue.

Without the medical cover, you stand with no clothing, your body is bruised, left over from the fight. It is also red and raw, inflamed from Hux's weapon.

His weak weapon. A game of the First Order. You narrow your eyes.

To leave the fight and yet attack with such a weapon. Coward. You let yourself think, anger brewing deep inside you.

You open your eyes again and stare back at yourself. This time noticing your hands more closely. The blue...

Like Poe's were... The thought pushes itself unnoticed past your headache, only becoming clearer when you focus on it.