Hello again! I couldn't believe that people actually read the last chapter, there's been 101 hits in the last week, which is exciting for me, haha… Anywhoo, I realized the title makes absolutely no sense, I just thought it was catchy… but now it needs a story to justify it. I don't really know what Plyridian Fever is, I found it on Wookieepedia, and made up what its symptoms are and stuffs… Regardless, I hope you enjoy it! Reviews are loved!
(P.S., special thanks to Alexis_Tach and Regan_Rider for being the first to review!)
Chapter 2: Fools' Hearts Burn Too
...
…flip the three and six, the total is now nineteen - thirteen.
Atton gazed intently at nothing, his eyes slightly out of focus.
Opponent is dealt an eight, the total is now nineteen - twenty-one.
He could still feel that witch crawling around in his mind, and he was determined to keep it from happening ever again. He'd been playing for hours while the rest of the ship slept soundly.
This time he was playing a young Twi'lek. He smirked as his opponent tugged nervously at his green-striped lekku. They both knew he didn't have any negative cards left.
The total stands, and the victory goes to the challenger.
Light footsteps in the hallway woke him from his reverie. He glanced at the clock on the ship's display. Morning already?
Atton stretched his legs out in front of him, then swung the pilot's chair around.
Kate Falco skipped into the cockpit. Literally, skipped. Atton stared at her.
"Atton! I've missed you!"
Atton stood up warily. If this was a Sith impersonator, they hadn't done their research very well.
"Err, I haven't gone anywhere, Kate. I've been here the whole night. And yesterday. And the day before. And-"
Atton had a whole long speech ready to go about how he spent day and night in that blasted chair and they never let him do anything unless it involved trying to outrun some murderous lunatic, in which case he received no praise for succeeding, but Force forbid he crashed…
He was going to say all that, until Kate cut him off by putting one small hand on either side of his face and kissing him softly.
"I think I love you," she said, then flashed him a smile, said, "Bye Atton!" and skipped back out.
Dazed, he stared at the empty doorway. He put two fingers to his lips where she had kissed him. No, that had definitely just happened. A euphoric grin spread across his face. He just had to tell someone! His heart was practically bursting out of his chest. Mical. It would drive him mad with envy.
He didn't skip, but there was a definite spring in his step as he made his way down the hall to the Medbay where Mical spent most of his time.
"Hey blondie," he called as he turned the corner. "Guess what-"
His words were cut short and one foot still hung frozen in the air as he caught sight of Mical with his lips pressed against Kate's. He backed up slowly, waiting for Kate to leave the small room, then reentered.
Waves of silent fury were rolling off him, and with a barely contained voice he asked, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Mical's silly grin had vanished, and his eyes grew wide. "What?"
That innocent crap wasn't going to work on Atton. Kate might get all soft when Mical made that puppy-dog face, but he didn't buy it for a minute.
Atton grabbed the other man by the collar of his robe and slammed him forcefully against the wall. The small room shook and a few glass tubes of Kolto fell from a shelf and splattered across the floor.
"I- I don't know!" Mical sputtered. "I was here minding my own business, and she just came in and… she said she loved me," he said meekly.
Atton's grip slackened, and Mical's feet regained touch with the floor. "But she… she said she loved me," he said quietly.
For a moment, they looked at each other with a mixture of anger, sadness, and confusion, until an angry snarling echoed across the ship. It seemed to be coming from the cargo hold.
Both men lunged for the door. Atton reached it first, slipping a little on the spilt Kolto, and sprinted towards the cargo hold.
This day was just getting weirder and weirder.
Hanharr was backed into a corner, one paw out to maintain distance, the other feeling around on the wall behind him for something to fend off the crazed Jedi, who appeared to be trying to kiss him.
Atton and Mical observed the scene for a moment, then looked at each other. Almost at the same time, Mical's voice panicked and Atton's sounding weary, they both yelled.
"Kreia!"
...
It was an hour later, Atton had managed to drag Kate away from Hanharr, and she was now lying on a bunk in Medbay with a healthy dose of sedatives coursing through her.
"The Exile has managed to contract a very rare disease called Plyridian Fever," said Kreia.
Mical gasped dramatically. "Is it fatal?"
Kreia rolled her failing eyes, although no one could see under her hood. "Not hardly. It merely throws the balance of chemicals off in the body, often giving the victim the fallacious idea that they are in love." She spat the word out as though it was poisonous. "In the Exile's case, it seemed to make her believe she was in love with all three of you, how interesting…"
Kreia watched as Mical's face fell, and she felt the tiny spark of hope in Atton's chest extinguish itself. How droll.
"She should be better by tomorrow, but there is little to be done about her condition in the meantime."
"So we just have to sit here and watch her suffer?" Mical whined.
Kreia looked at him, amused. "I suppose not." She dipped a cloth in water and held it out to Mical, but Atton snatched it out of his hand.
"I'll do that. Why don't you go… make yourself "useful" elsewhere."
Looking put out, Mical shuffled out of the room, followed by Kreia, who still looked entertained by the whole debacle.
Atton leaned over the bunk and gently patted Kate's forehead with the cool cloth. Her eyes flickered open for a second. She smiled, and reached for his hand before passing out again. He held her hand and watched her sleep for a few minutes, then made his way back to the cockpit. On his way, he passed Hanharr, who was clutching a blaster and still looked traumatized by the whole experience.
...
The next morning began much as the last had, with Atton being distracted from his pazaak game by footsteps echoing in the hallway. He turned around warily, and Kate entered. She was wearing worn, oversized robes, her hair was a mess, she was very pale, and she was trudging rather than skipping, but she was herself again.
"Hey, Atton…" she said awkwardly. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday… you must have been pretty freaked out. I've already been to see Mical and Hanharr. Mical seemed okay, but Hanharr locked himself in the storage room and I had to yell an apology through the durasteel…" She chuckled weakly.
"I'm sorry, Atton."
Atton shook his head. "No, no, it's okay. It's not like you knew what you were doing or anything, right? No harm done." He smiled halfheartedly at her.
"Oh, Atton, you're the best!" She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She smelled like… the closest thing Atton could think of was the breeze rustling through the grasses on the Khoonda plains… so calming and warm… like home.
He pulled away from her and said, "Hey, look. You should get some rest, you still look pretty bad."
She nodded, smiled tiredly at him, then disappeared through the door.
Atton watched her leave with a small, wistful sigh. He had a fool's heart, and he knew it.
He traipsed back to his chair and flopped into it, kicking his feet up onto the dash. As he propped his arms behind her head, a sudden smile warmed his face.
Perhaps there was hope yet.
After all, he didn't see Mical getting any conciliatory hugs.
