"This is Commander Rex of the five-oh-first, General Skywalker report, over," The com-linked sounded in a tiny voice. The only sound was static. After a few moments of this the voice spoke again.
"Please respond, over." more crackling for an even longer period of time. This time a higher pitched voice came over the com link.
"General Skywalker, this is Padawan Ahsoka Tano. Please respond, over," it was a formal voice, only used for communicating over the air. The hand gloved in brown did not move. It hung limply. It was a pitiful sight.
"Skywalker, what are your coordinates, over?" A light flickered with the pitch of the voice. It was the deeper male again. Urgency punctuated the words. This was the longest stretch of static yet. Then a small panicked voice came back on.
"Sky guy, where are you?" the fingers twitched. A moan echoed through the clearing. Without pressing the button he cannot communicate with the ones trying to save him. "Please," the girl whispers.
The man in the ship gains consciousness. Slowly, desperately he claws his way through the black cotton. The suffocating place right before death that all humans feared most. His blue eyes match the sky they stare into for a moment, clouded and confused. His whole body is like one big wound. Everything feels broken. His neck definitely is. He is lucky that it didn't sever many nerves.
"Master," a girl sobs on his com link. Thank the force it is on his mechanical arm, which he can still move. Hopefully. It whirrs and clicks, then begins to travel. It still functions. He brings his wrist to his forehead and presses down to activate the com. It seems to be one of the few areas that wasn't severely injured. It still hurt.
"Ahsoka," he manages to croak. It hurt to speak.
"Master? Master, are you all right, over?" she asks quickly her tone switching from happiness to anxiousness in a heartbeat. He is about to respond that he is fine when something twinges in his chest and he cries out involuntarily. His breath comes in quick gasps for a few moments. "You are not all right," she says somberly. "What are your coordinates, over?" Anakin manages to answer without screaming in pain, which would undoubtedly hurt.
"I don't know," he takes a shaky breath and continues. "R-Two has my original coordinates," he takes a second to breathe again. Every time air enters his lungs his ribs screech in protest. He can't feel his right leg. He doesn't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. "Went off course, about half way through," he knew that without the force he would be dead. It was no easy task to speak. Especially the task of not crying out.
"We'll find you master, we will," she says it like she is trying to reassure herself more than him.
"Skywalker out." He pulls the com link away from his forehead and whimpers. Such a pathetic sound to come from the hero of the republic, but he was only human. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He was going to die. That was for certain. It was time for him to except death.
"Oh my totally screwed up universe," said a female voice from what seemed like only a few feet away. He wanted to snap at the interrupter. He was trying to come to terms with his death! To not seeing Padmae again, or Ahsoka, or Rex, or Obi-wan…
He opened his sky colored eyes, bright with pain. Padmae stood before him with a flashlight gripped in her hand illuminating her in a dull yellow glow. He blinked and wished he could rub his eyes. That made no sense. How could she be here? Unless he was dead. Anakin didn't feel dead. The words escaped his lips before he could stop them.
"Padmae…" The girl was staring at him.
"I'm not Padmae," she said. "I'm Josephine." The more he looked at her the more he realized it was true. They could have been sisters. Her eyes were blacker than Padmae's and she was a little taller. She was softer than Padmae, with a rounder face and a little more weight. Then she walked towards him and he realized it was muscle. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion. "And you're Anakin Skywalker," he would have blanched if he could move his head. How did this girl know who he was if before he had crashed he had been outside his fighter's ability to locate and name?
"How do you…?" he faded of before he started whimpering again. Then she was close enough to see his wounds and she seemed to lose all the blood in her pale face. Then she turned to the side and vomited. She turned away from him so he wouldn't get sick himself. That was very considerate of her, sense he disgusted her so. She straightened and wiped her lips.
"Sorry," she said quietly.
"That bad?" he asked with a little bit of fear. She was about to say no, then decided to say nothing. The dark haired girl pulled out this small blue rectangular object with a tiny screen and a lot of buttons. She pressed some of them and then held it to her ear.
"36 Stonetop Road, Feildsridge CT. Area code 77806." She didn't say anything for a moment. "There is a man here and he is gravely injured. He is entombed," she paused again. "About twenty two," another pause, "Yes he is bleeding and he is semiconscious," there seemed to be a lot of pausing which made no sense. He could hear no other voice. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Yes I'll stay on the phone but don't expect me to talk. Send the fire department," and she opened the object to reveal a bigger screen and another set of buttons which were smaller and even more confusing. She fiddled with it for a moment. Now he heard a voice.
"Okay miss, just don't hang up," she placed the small device on the ground and came back to him.
"What is that?" he manages to mumble. Her face is still bone white.
"A cell phone," she says warily.
He has no idea what that is. He accidentally breathes the wrong way and shouts. The pain is searing. Her hands are fluttering over him, trying to find something to fix. He sees that her teeth are chattering and her fingers are shaking. It must be freezing. Hunh, he couldn't even tell. The wind rattled the black pines that surrounded him on all visible sides. A siren grew louder in the distance. The moon hung sadly in the star splattered sky. He tried to remain conscious. It was a battle he was losing.
The girl settled for un-wrapping a scrunched up cloth from her pocket and filling it with snow. Then she held it and it melted into water slowly, soaking the cloth. She wiped his forehead and his cheeks with it. It came away soot and rose. More of the second.
The sirens were closer. Really close.
"I need to bring the paramedics here, they won't be able to see you from the driveway," she turned back to him as she ran toward the glowing red lights. "Don't die while I'm gone okay?" and she sprinted off in a navy blue robe with white polka-dots and these fluffy brown boots. The boots came up to her ankles and her robe half way down her thigh. There was a wide expanse of skin in between. He wished she was Padmae. It would have been a nice way to leave the world.
"He's over here, come on!" the words echoed faintly in his head. There was the dull roar of a power saw and he heard someone moan. What a weakling. He didn't even consider it strange that he seemed to be living in a world colored only in shades of blue and flickering lights. Shadows warped and twisted in his concussed mind. Another echo filtered into his conscious.
"His neck is broken! Brace him!" Then he felt himself being gently extracted from his fighter. He had loved that ship. He mentally said good bye as he was strapped to a stretcher. Padmae looked down at him with worry on her face. He wanted to reach his fingers up and stroke her face, tell her he was fine and everything would be all right. That's what he always told her. At least she wasn't crying. He hated it when she cried. There was that moaning again. He wanted to tell who ever was doing it to stop. It was hurting his chest. Then there was a mask on his face and he drifted into sweet oblivion.
