She remembered the day, the hour, and the minute it had happened: that one sad, terrible day, now a not-so distant memory, could not even begin to compare to all the pain ever felt from any of those planets she'd helped throughout her years as a Jedi. And now, as Sielle Dereban stood there, overlooking the dusty dual sunset of Tatooine, she began to think of the moment she had received the distress signal: what if she hadn't been hiding then? What if she had gone back? What if her mentor, Xiv, hadn't sent her on her first solo mission three days before? She knew, oh yes, did she know: she would be dead, like most every other Jedi she'd attempted to contact. She knew of very few survivors; many of them had sent themselves into exile, as she had done. After all, the sympathetic, allied Republic was no more: now, the Galactic Empire reigned strong under the hands of the Sith, who had miraculously managed to take control right under the Jedi's noses.
Before the current Sith Lord, they had gotten by mostly on deception, and had hidden in whatever far reaching worlds would provide them proper cover. However, with the coming of prominence of a masked Darth Sidious in the political arena, and his gain and conversion of Anakin Skywalker, they had finally gotten the power they'd always needed to take over the Republic. She paused a moment in her ruminations; Anakin Skywalker: that name stuck to her like glue. She hadn't known him, of course, but she had seen him about the Temple on a few occasions. Most of the time, he looked dour, always miserable and conflicted, she thought. Apparently, she had not been able to see just how troubled he had been: after all, it was he who had carried out the purge of the Jedi. He, the Padawan of Master Obi-Wan and one beloved by all the Younglings of the Temple, who had stormed those same walls and cut down every last one of those innocent children simply because they were of Jedi affiliation. The very thought nearly sent her mind reeling, but she'd had it often enough by now that she knew how to counter it. Instead, she thought of her new life here as the local Healer.
In the elder days, she'd been an adept at it, finding it far easier than any saber training she'd ever encountered. Now, it was all she could still do to stay alive, considering the fact that her ability to hide was a measure of her lifespan. Even now, in her modest condition, disguised bounty hunters would still come around at times, attempting to sniff out survivors; sometimes, they had come close: she had always kept her lightsaber hidden away after her self-imposed exile, but following the last encounter with those hunters she had felt obliged to begin keeping it with her at all times in case any one of them attempted to attack. Should that happen, she would be revealed, but it could save her life. She was no stranger to moving at this point, and it would be a small price to pay. For now, she lived under the assumed name Fa'alak Yun. As she touched upon that final ponderance, a knock came from the open doorway and she rose, taking the steps quickly to greet the caller.
Upon reaching the fifth step, she was able to see who had come to call: it was a man; that was sure. She couldn't quite tell if he was a bounty hunter or not, because he wore a long coat which concealed him completely, but for his head. That was taken care of by a wrapping of bandages, though he had taken the necessary precautions needed to see and to breathe. Had she not been in scrapes with them at times, she might have even mistaken him for an oddly dressed Tusken Raider, but there was no mistaking it when he spoke his short greeting: this man was human, or at least of a very similar species. She pondered before answering, and finally conceded to allow him in after she had felt with the Force and noted no ill presence; if he had been clever enough to hide some sort of Dark leanings, she'd be dead already. Therefore, she concluded, he could only be there for some other reason, which she was soon to find out. She offered the man a cushion to sit on and, when both of them were seated, she prepared to ask her questions. Before she could do so, he pulled back the sleeve of his long coat to reveal a covering of dirty bandages. When he pulled these back, the action revealed a deep cut through his forearm, from which emanated a stench of sorts. He began to speak.
"Hopefully, you can fix me up. After all, I hear you're the best, albeit the only Healer for miles around. So far, I've done the best I can in keeping this thing clean," he indicated the pile of now discarded bandages "but it hasn't been easy in the slightest. In case it matters, I got this thing during a fight with some Tusken Raiders. I was traveling with a group of Jawas through the desert and they were attacked. It was they who pointed me here…"
Throughout his further explanation, Sielle prepared her medical supplies and then took a closer look at the cut. It was definitely pre-infection, that was for sure: she could already see (and smell) the effects of the dirty bandages, and decided that the best course of action would be to flush out the wound and then cauterize it. Noting that he had finished whatever other rambling he'd been doing, she took his arm, and a small tool that would flush out bacteria. As soon as she had fired it up, she stuck it directly into the affected area, the Force helping guide her aim. The man jerked his arm away nearly as quickly as the tool entered the flesh; he screamed in pain and held the now throbbing arm close to his body. Sielle made sure that she was calm before she began to speak to him, however irately.
"Honestly, how do you expect me to heal you if you cannot even hold still for two minutes while I clean out your wound? Would you rather I let it alone? Your arm would rot off, you know, and then you'd have bigger problems to worry about than a couple of Tuskens."
Seemingly shocked, he looked away and took a deep breath before thrusting his arm towards her; his body braced for pain, or so she could feel. Sighing, she again guided the tool into the wound and winced, both at the sound of the flushing but also at the pain she could feel in the man. While she allowed the flusher its work, erstwhile using the Force to make sure it did not go astray, she decided that she might as well try to converse with her patient.
"So," she began, "what were you doing that would require traveling around with a group of Jawas?" She could feel him tense even more at the question, could almost hear his mind whirring, weighing how much to tell her.
"Well, as you may or may not know, the Jawas are in the droid trade. Originally, I was along for a good scavenging opportunity. That was before I met this one guy, Fir, in some cantina at Mos Espa. He got me into playing cards, and next thing I know we're both drunk and he's babbling on about how he's a part of the Rebellion and, in the end, pitching me a new job shuttling weapons across the desert for them. Pretty stupid of him, once you think about it. After all, I could have been some Imperial guard or something, on a break." He laughed, but it was cut short when he gritted his teeth along with the tool's movement into another part of the wound.
"Anyways," he continued, "I took the job. I figured, hey, I don't want to waste the rest of my life on Tatooine organizing betting on podraces. Not when I could be out there in space, working for a better tomorrow and actually living. So he gives me the details, and together we smuggled a bunch of illegal weapons onto the Jawa crawler. That's why I was traveling with them."
Sielle nodded. She could see his story was true, since absolutely none of his effort had gone into a deceptive place. Again, if it were, she'd already be dead. She answered.
"Hmm, alright. And where were you when you got attacked?"
He began again. "In the Jundland Wastes. We were just passing through when we were attacked. Why?"
Finished with flushing the wound, Sielle removed the tool and focused on his face. "It matters, because it means you have some ulterior motive. It is true that this place is two and a half days' journey from the Wastes, but there are also many Healers that require a much shorter journey from that location." She paused, and picked up a medical torch, switching it on. "So who are you, and what's your real reason for coming here?"
His eyes shut at her words; she had definitely caught him in his lie. It was now his turn to sigh as he spoke again.
"My name is Lon. Some years ago, during the war, my father served alongside the Jedi as a runner. He shuttled resources to and from Jedi strongholds throughout the galaxy, so when the Empire came to be he was killed by their interrogators. He didn't talk much about his days to anyone, really, but before he died, he did tell me one thing. He said that he'd served under this one Jedi… someone they all called Xiv…"
Sielle, playing the part of her alias, did not react.
"And he said that this Jedi always had this apprentice with him. She was apparently about my age, and she was a great healer. Anyways, I wanted to see if the rumors were true. I hear that there's supposed to be an exiled Jedi near this area, and I've also heard that you've got some pretty impressive powers."
At this point it was again Sielle's turn to pause while she debated about how much she should tell of the truth but decided that she was caught, at least with this man. Her hand dropped to her boot, from where she now retrieved her lightsaber, making it clearly visible. She looked away, lost in memories.
"Yes, what you have heard is true. It isn't anything that I would go spreading around," she pointed the hilt at him, "but I will tell you. Xiv had been my mentor since I was 11 years old. He was the one who had kept me as his Padawan and had taught me everything that he possibly could. Whether he worked with your father or not, I wouldn't know; I never really paid much attention to his dealings there except when the situation made attention necessary. Anyhow, he's been dead several years, ever since he answered the distress signal and was killed upon his return… by the Sith."
She refused to speak the name of Anakin again: he had betrayed his entire order when he had defected, and he did not deserve to be mentioned for such an unspeakable act. In fact, to her, Anakin didn't even exist anymore; the man he had been had died with the rest of the Jedi, and with his defection to the side of the Sith. She sighed once more, and gently ignited her lightsaber. The vibrant green blade, which hummed with the very power it possessed, was comfort to her as nothing else. Yes, she had definitely missed this. She turned her gaze onto the erstwhile visitor.
"It's hard for me to believe that it's already been five years since that day… five years since my dreams fell apart and I was forced to pretend none of it had ever happened, lest I find myself facing death." Now, she found herself shutting off her lightsaber before setting it aside and, reaching instead for a cauterization tool, continuing the healing of the wound.
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