AN: Hi, this is my first ever fanfic, please be gentle with me. I do not own Star Wars or anything involved in the universe. I do however own anything unrecognized and any OC I might have.
Also, I grimace to say that I have NOT actually seen TFA, yet, so there may be some AU-ishness.
"Incoming," the muffled voice of a storm trooper sounded into my ear, "VIP patient."
The battle was over, to we medics everyone just so happened to be 'VIP', but they didn't care, rank was what decided who lived and died most of the time. A grim reminder of who I happened to be employed under.
Apparently, our newcomer was of the utmost importance, lucky soul.
"What's their name," I responded, sounding unintentionally short, I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep since they started rushing in bodies the previous day.
There was the deafening crackle of silence that filled the air before the voice responded with a simple, "Kylo Ren."
My blood ran cold, it wasn't that I feared for my skills. I was the best medic in sight, trained from the moment I was taken onto the base and found to have 'exceptional' – or so Hux called it – skill in the mending arts.
I laughed when he said that, the man had little in the way with words. But, I couldn't help but to gloat a little to myself, I was damn good at what I did. Even if his real reasoning was to keep me from the tutelage of Kylo Ren.
"Bring him straight to me," I sighed into my mouth piece.
A squadron of men rushed in the room all but dragging the man behind them, who – for lack of better words – looked like utter shit.
"What the hell happened to him?" I mused out loud, causing another medic to throw me a rather disdainful look.
The trooper who's voice I'd recognized took a tentative step forward, "M-0001, might I suggest you get to work – immediately."
"Yes sit," I faux saluted, before ushering his men forward and to a bed.
"It looks like a blaster shot to the torso," I muttered to myself, taking no time ripping his robes to shreds, "I'll need gauze, a lot of it." I yelled to no one in particular, knowing my men were good to bring me things should I require them.
There were perks to being the main medic on a base of people who constantly seemed to kiss death and live to tell the tale.
"Get him on oxygen and a drip of morphine, now!" I yelled, sending my men a rather grave look.
His face was a gory mess as well, but the man's mug was, in fact, the least of my worries. It was hard to ignore what could be considered a fairly attractive face in my opinion, but ignoring it for the sake of his life made the most sense.
His mask would help him in the long run, though scars were effective in garnering fear.
"Bore needle," I barked, taking note of his strange respiration, "I think I have a punctured lung!"
"But M-0001, what if -" the trainee to my left gasped, "we should -"
I whipped my head to the side long enough to glare at her, "shut up and let me do my damn job!"
Shoving wads of gauze into the blaster hole I could finally see that there was a small nick on one of his lungs, cursing my luck I wrecked my brain for the many ways one could fix something so dire.
"What do we do?" a terrified girl at my side asked, "we can't take it out if something happens," she moaned.
"If I don't get this in his lung may collapse," I sighed, "ready a chest tube just in case," I offered a bit quieter, not wanting to terrify the child or let the troopers see me sweat.
"Yes ma'am," she scuttled off and out of sight.
"Okay Ren," I leveled myself to his chest so I could listen to his breathing, which came out in ragged sobs, "you're not allowed to die on me you hear that?" The needle slipped into his pale skin with ease and finally he took what seemed like his first decent breath in god knows how long.
"Good job," I smiled, "no need for the chest tube, but I'm gonna crack him open a little better so I can patch this poke up."
The storm troopers that surrounded me all seemed to relax at my assessment and the one with the familiar voice stepped forward once more, "I will go alert Hux of his condition."
"Tell Hux, that he's gonna be fine," I smiled wider than I thought possible, saving Ren was easily going to be the achievement of my career.
I didn't remember my life beforehand, there was nothing in my head from the 'pre-starkiller' points of my life. I knew that at my age there had to have been something before the few months I've spent on base.
I was taken in because they felt the force within me. At the ripe age of twenty they'd assumed that I'd be worth something more. But, combat was hardly for small girls like me. I trained for a short period even so much as making my own light saber, but, when I wounded a fellow trainee and went into medic mode they found my true place within the base.
Apparently in this world it was kill or be killed and I was too soft.
"Okay," I sighed, staring at the perforation in his lungs head on, "I got this."
I lifted my hand above his chest focusing my energy, thoughts, feelings, everything I had into just pinching the tiny hole closed. The force tickled and danced though my hand and finally his body looked no more marred on the inside than a baby.
"Suture kit," I sighed, feeling utterly spent even from such small use of the force, exhaustion more than catching up with me.
After applying the final touches to the man's torn body I collapsed in the cot next to him, grumbling nothing more than a "wake me when he gets up."
"M-0001," a soft voice called to me, rousing me from another dreamless sleep.
I swatted the hand that shook me away, "leave me alone," I whined.
"He's awake," the voice whined.
And with that I bolted upwards as if dragged by the force itself. He was awake, which meant he was alive. I hadn't let the supreme ruler down, and that was good enough for me.
"Kylo Ren," I smiled, taking note to scream at whoever did his facial sutures, "good to see you awake."
He looked at me as if I'd grown a second head, "what the hell am I doing here?"
"You'd taken a pretty bad shot to the side," I offered, gesturing to his bandaged chest, "I repaired your lungs."
"You used the force," he spat, "weak beings like you do not use the force, medic!"
Part of me wanted to reach into his chest, I felt my power linger within him, I knew it would take nothing more than a snap of my fingers to effectively ruin his life for the moment. But, I also knew that it'd be my head if I didn't repair him immediately afterward.
"I did what I had to, your life was on the line," I retorted, "without me you'd be dead," my voice trailed off.
He averted his gaze quickly, "give me my helmet, I'm leaving."
"Excuse me?" I balked, "you are not leaving this wing until I say so!"
He turned his head, sickeningly slow, imparting a look that would make blood freeze in it's place. Apparently the man hadn't been told 'no' many times in his life – which would help explain the frequent fits of rage the man had become known for – he'd be horribly mistaken to think I'd bow under his pressure.
At the moment he was far too weak to fight even me, even at over a foot taller than my tiny frame I knew I'd be able to take him easily.
"You're not to leave my sight until you're at full capacity, make yourself comfortable," I shot back.
With the way I'd been speaking to him I knew my gall would do me no favors in the long run, hell, I could have been making what was the largest enemy in the universe. But, remaining steadfast would be my only reprise. If he could not come to see my reasoning that was his own problem.
"I feel fine," he growled, after a long pause, he was all but gasping for air and I knew any more fighting would leave him in an unpleasant state for both of us.
I ushered over one of my men, a tall elderly man who's eyes held the answers to the universe. I'd come to respect him in my short stint in the medical field, he'd grown into something of a father figure for me though at the time I was his superior.
"Please administer our patient something to calm his nerves, I must speak to Hux."
With that I blinked the last bit of sleep from my eyes and made my way from the room, if Ren was going to fight me tooth and nail I found that the general knew the best ways to keep the man in some state of complacency. The orders of the supreme ruler lurked over all of our heads.
"Hux," I greeted upon meeting the man in his regular hiding spot, a rather lavish meeting room in the center of the station. It was the type of place a man like Hux would find comfort no doubt.
"M-0001," he nodded, "what can I help you with."
He and I were never on particularly good terms, not since they found how ill equipped I was for wielding the force under the command of Phasma, a horrid shrew of a woman who loved nothing more than barking orders.
But, he was the only other person on the station I knew of that could speak to Ren, though even their relationship seemed tense at the best of times.
"I come to speak of Kylo, he refuses to stay in the medic wing and I abhor the idea of letting him loose to his own volition while under my care."
The man's eyes all but bugged out of his head, as he scoffed, "and you expect me to be of some help?"
"You're the best bet I have other than requesting the audience of the Supreme leader," I shrugged, praying my point was coming across.
We both knew that there really wasn't a such thing as requesting an audience of the Supreme leader, Snoke had much to do apparently and very little time for those under his control. None of us had ever met the man, or perhaps none of us lived to speak of it. There had been a few trainees brought to him, we'd never seen them again. Their fates were nothing more than conversation in the canteen, mere gossip about the lack of benevolence Snoke held for us.
"You seek an impossible task, child," he grimaced, a look that suited his face well.
"I won't have him released until I know he is fine," it sounded indignant of me, making demands of a man I had no control over. I knew then that I was likely falling onto deaf ears.
"If he asks to be released you must do it, find a way around it," the man jeered before shooing me off.
I found myself dragging my feet back to the infirmary, defeated in my task to do what was best for my patient. Until the thought occurred to me that he wasn't exactly a lost cause. I'd just have to barter with him. A feat that felt as impossible as befriending an angry Wookie.
"Ren, I have a proposition," I offered, leveling with his dazed eyes.
He was placated for the time being with drugs coursing through his veins, the best time to deal with him if any.
He nodded once, which was good enough for me.
"I will release you to your quarters, but you will still be under my care, I will visit you at least three times a day and I will not allow you to do anything that could impede your recovery."
It seemed I drove a hard bargain to the man with the way his eyes bore into mine, but after a few moments of consideration he nodded once more.
"Good, I will see you in a few hours," I smiled, albeit filled with insincerity and moved onto other cases I had for the day.
After my long hours with very little breaks in between I was nearly spent yet again. Tending to the wounds of hardened soldiers left very little reward, more often than not the men were too tempered to even say thank you. But, I retained my swelling sense of pride that I, a simple woman in most respects nearly saved an entire army of wounded men to myself.
Even if no one would flat out thank me, I knew that I was somewhat of an asset to the base at least. Had I not been there, tending to people in a way most couldn't many men would have died.
Using the force as I had took a toll on my body though. I felt ragged and exhausted after every patient and it only got worse when I realized that I had but one man left. My body was not ready for the fight that was sure to ensue.
The walk to his quarters made my limbs feel like lead, with every step I was filled with more trepidation. I didn't wish to see what kind of mood he found himself in, nor did I want anything to do with quelling the rage he felt that I – an oh so pitiful medic – dare use the force in his almighty presence.
He obviously was not someone who would be appreciative of my efforts, knowing himself the toll using the force had and the exhaustion and head aches that almost always followed.
"Open the door Ren," I didn't bother to knock, I felt his presence inside and knew that he was indeed awake. His aura was filled with a palpable rage that seeped through the heavy metal doors and into the corridor.
"Leave," I could barely hear the mechanical voice through the door.
"Not a chance in hell," I sang back, "open up before I come in."
My new found guts would give me very little, that I knew. When the man was back to his tip top I'd be the next thing on his list to end.
The door slid open, revealing Kylo fully garbed in his armor and mask placed upon his already towering body.
"I'll check you and be on my way," I sounded exhausted, my voice was hoarse and scratchy and my body felt like it was weighed down by a ton of bricks, but he was my last charge and I'd be damned if I skimped on my care because of either of our crankiness.
He stepped inside leaving a tiny amount of room for me to squeak by and stand in his spacious quarters. We lower ranking members of the order were given shared barracks at best and the slightly higher ranking members had small rooms of their own, I'd seem Hux's once just walking by. But, Kylo's room was large as it was decorated and filled with books.
I was impressed to say the very least.
"Uh - "I stammered, taking notice of the way he stared in my direction – or so I assumed, unable to truly see his face due to the mask - "please lie down so I can check your wound, and please do remove your mask?" I imparted as much courtesy as I could in my tone, hoping it'd at least get me through this in a pleasant manner.
Much to my surprise he complied with at least half of my request taking a seat on his bed and balling his fists into the bottom of his robe.
I sighed, "please, we'd both very much like to get this over with."
"What's your name woman?" the question threw me off guard.
People that were brought into the order were not given names once their memories were sapped from them. At first I was bitter to say the least. I had no memory of who I was, all the was truly left of me was fragments of a personality. I came to learn a few things about myself, I disliked bitter things, and often fed my strange fruits to other members of my team. I had a penchant for sarcasm that Phasma seemed to bring out almost immediately.
There was much I was learning about myself, however a name was something recruits were not given.
"I am M-0001," I offered, beckoning him to raise his shirt impatiently.
"You have no name?" he mused.
Apparently the man had been left unaware of what trainees went through. While he was allowed to choose a name that suited his liking we were nothing more than a series of numbers and letters.
M, I assumed had something to do with my rank, medic.
"M," he sighed, "I feel fine."
I was taken aback by the curtness of his voice, something told me he grew tired of our exchanges but there truly was little I could do.
"Please, just let me look, then I'll leave."
"Very well," he sighed.