The next morning, Meliriava was wide awake before her alarm ever rang. If Ren's word was reliable, the midichlorian texts would be hers today. She tossed herself out of the twin bed, almost ramming in to the bookshelf five feet away against the opposite wall- a daily occurrence due to the fiery energy attempting to exist in such a small space- and hurriedly threw on the simple black shirt and pants that was part of her everday uniform beneath her beloved white lab coat. Kicking her way into the small attached bathroom, she angrily dragged a brush through her long black hair with one hand while assaulting her teeth with a different kind of brush with the other. Muttering swears at the close walls for their unkind handling of her elbows, she finished with her brushes and threw some water on her face before unskillfully smudging her stick of kohl across her eyelids. Was it necessary? No. Did she like the almost-barbaric look of pseudo-warpaint on her face? Absolutely. The dark framing made her grey irises seem even paler, even more frightening, she thought, and she believed that this served as a nice deterrent to unnecessary interactions with others. Sticking some hairbands in her pocket, she darted out of her room, messily braiding her hair as she ran towards her laboratory.

Thanks to the length of her hair- dammit, one day she would cut it off- she only had one braid in place by the time she arrived to her cold sanctuary, not yet lit for the day. Starting on her second braid, she navigated the light switches with her still-sore elbows and burst into her small office. The datapad stared at her, taunting her with its unknown gifts, as she rapidly finished braiding her hair- dammit, this always took too long. It felt like an eternity, but she finally managed to finish the braid and pin it into its loop. Once that was secured, she snatched at the device like a starving zoo animal at a long-awaited slab of meat. She wanted to scream as it took its time turning on, as if it sensed her urgency and wanted to drag every possible inch of suffering out of her. Finally, it activated, and she roughly punched in her terminal access code.

No new messages.

What the- she stared dumbly at the empty inbox.

Nothing. No documents. No texts. Not even a message apologizing for what had been a blatant LIE from Kylo Ren. She smashed a button commanding the inbox to refresh.

Still empty.

She smashed the button again.

Still empty.

Dropping the datapad back onto her desk, she barely bit back the scream welling in the back of her throat. The world around her began to narrow as her vision tunneled. She stumbled out of her office- suddenly the room seemed so much smaller than it had in the past, the walls so much closer. The sterile air of the laboratory, usually a comfort, was now somehow stagnant and oppressive. Meliriava gasped and began hyperventilating, trying to breathe, but her lungs simply refused to absorb any oxygen from the air. Dizzy, she clumsily fought her way to the door, unable to prevent herself from repeatedly slamming into the fridges and tables on either side of her.

The hallway that she had just been in seemed suddenly alien as her senses altered themselves to her new, panicked perspective. She couldn't feel herself, any parts of her own body, but suddenly she was more aware of the harsh lighting, the sound of the air filters, the presence of her silent and distant bodyguards.

"Doctor," one of the guards said, surprised.

Ignoring him, Meliriava forced her numb body quickly through the winding passages of the precinct, shoving past patrolling Stormtroopers, who shouted angrily in response, though their words had ceased to have meaning to her ears. She watched her feet flutter beneath her, but she couldn't feel their impact on the floor with each heavy step. The metallic walls around her seemed to be melting before her darting eyes. Squeezing them shut, she smashed into a door and out into the cold, snowy air.

The wind whipped around her, much angrier than it had been the previous day. The sun had barely begun to illuminate the boreal forest that typified the surface of planet-turned-weapon, and the chill of the night was still sharp. Without a second thought, she threw herself onto the cold steel platform, spreading her arms out to maximize her contact with the frozen surface. One by one Meliriava felt her senses find their ways back to her, shocked back into being by the frigidity of the atmosphere. Her ragged breaths still stabilizing, she glanced back at the door to find a small gathering of her "honor guard" staring at her in their identically expressionless white masks. Usually an unseen force, despite their eternal humming on the fringe of Meliriava's existence, at this moment there were no less than three of the invisible watchdogs there, watching her splay out on the cold metal.

"That's a little impressive," one said- was that a semblance of humor she heard? Or was she still confused in the thrall of her anxiety, the disease still warping her reality? It was surreal enough that they were addressing her directly with something more than her title or name, the only vocal interaction these troopers had ever attempted in the almost ten years they had been assigned as her wardens – until today, apparently.

Another trooper held a comm link up to its masked face. "She seems to be lucid again, sir," it said, so smoothly and professionally that discerning gender was impossible. The link crackled a response, but Meliriava couldn't make out the reply through the static. "Right away, sir." Lowering the comm, its helmet tipped ever so slightly to regard the prone woman. "Doctor, are you… alright, now?"

The first trooper turned to the second. "That's almost an hour out here without PPE, Snipes, she's gotta go to the med wing or something-"

"How long?" Meliriava pushed herself up defiantly- at least, that was the intention, but apparently the sensation in her limbs was some kind of phantom feeling, as all four of her extremities were numb and unresponsive in a way quite different than earlier. Her graceful rise ended up much less regal than planned, as her arms slipped out from underneath her and she crashed back down. Instantly, the first trooper and the silent third were on either side of her, each grabbing and arm and together hoisting her up to her feet. The sharp sensation of needlepoints flooded her legs, and she wobbled in surprise and pitched forward. The troopers caught her.

"You've been out here 'bout an hour, doctor," the chatty trooper informed her, as they half-escorted/half-dragged her back inside of the base. "And that white coat probably isn't that warm." A correct assumption- the laboratory coat was barely more substantial than the thin black clothes underneath it. "I think y'outta go see a medic or something- I wanted to take you in before, but we've been advised to, uh… let you ride out your episodes."

The heated interior was such a sharp contrast to the frigid outside- it was kept at an even, comfortable room temperature, but after so long in the chill, the mild air hit Meliriava's thawing skin like a blast of fire and she felt beads of sweat begin forming all over her body.

The second trooper, leading the others, turned back to face the doctor, who was slowly returning her weight back to her own prickling legs. "The medical bay will have to wait, doctor. You're to return back to your laboratory. Will you require further assistance?"

Now fully supporting herself with the barest minimum of success, Meliriava straightened her white coat, attempting to regain her stoicism. "That will be all, trooper," she replied sternly. "And this is not to be spoken of again." Struggling to control her still-pained legs, she wobbly stalked off down the hallway, hoping she didn't look as ungainly as she felt. She knew that the troopers would follow her- at a distance- back to their stations outside of the laboratory, and she was grateful for whatever protocol kept them from interacting with her (barring extenuating circumstances, which the earlier events seemed to fall under). The hallways were still empty, and Meliriava used the opportunity to re-coordinate her body, not wanting to appear as anything less than in complete control when she returned to her sanctum.

When she reached the door to her laboratory, a sense of relief flooded her- as she always felt when she arrived here, to her palace. With a small sigh, she pushed open the door-

-to find her team standing smartly at the benches, stiff and straight, with wide eyes painfully focused on individual tasks. Hearing the door open, they turned to stare at her, the whites of each pair of eyes unnervingly sending a panicked message that she could not read. VT, the closest to the door, was wound tighter than a tourniquet on an amputee, and looked as if she would snap in half at the slightest spook. Meliriava saw her lips move in some silent plea, but the overwhelming tension in the room was so distracting that she wasn't able to understand.

Meliriava didn't like tension. She liked to be in control, but jittery scientists were clumsy scientists, and she believed that unnecessary stress was not conducive to a productive laboratory. This tension was robbing her of the serenity of her sanctum, and she would not stand for that. "Unless someone broke my data pad," she said firmly, sweeping her arm across the room, "this whole… thing is unnecessary." They remained silent and scared. She frowned. "Someone broke my data pad."

"Doctor Sotz, ma'am," Fig said from the other side of the room, with uncharacteristic formality. "You have a guest in your office. Ma'am!"

"What is this, basic training?" She growled, striding over to him. As she neared, she could see that his brown hair was thickly matted with sweat. Her frown deepened.

"It is unprofessional to keep a commanding officer waiting, ma'am!" Fang interjected, with the same creepy programmed formality that each of her team had once possessed, when each had first joined her laboratory. "Not to speak out of turn! Ma'am!"

Meliriava threw her hands up in exasperation. "I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but fine! Whatever! If it will calm you all down, I will go into my office and see to this guest!" With agitated force, she threw open the heavy door to her small room.

Like a silent black shadow, Kylo Ren sat menacingly behind her desk.


trashlady: anxiety is so fun isn't it

trashlady: in other news, i encourage you to investigate the "report abuse" function that fan fiction dot net provides. at the bottom of a story page, there's a little button that says "Actions" with a little up-pointing arrow.

trashlady: i support the removal of all non-stories from the story section of fan fiction dot net. like, come on, guys. be fucking adults.

trashlady: in further news, this story is actually really fun to write because i accidentally made meli too much like me. i'm glad some of y'all are enjoying it too.