It had to have been hours before anything happened. Her patient was out cold, for now, and the room she was trapped in wasn't the largest or grandest. She had managed to clean the blood from her arms, though she knew her clothes was likely stained with it. There wasn't much else for her to do, sleep was the best thing he could do to heal but she had no part in that. Looking through the med pack for anything to help her escape ended up useless. The best weapon turned out to be the scissors and they would be only a minor annoyance to a storm trooper.
So she set herself up in the one chair in the room, watching for any changes, thinking about what must be coming next. They asked her to keep that man alive and she'd done her job. Would they kill her? Would they keep her as a prisoner? Would they put her to work after seeing her skill? She wondered if they might feel indebted to her, but it seemed outlandish even to think it.
And when her thoughts started running themselves into circles, her attention turned towards the man resting in front of her. She didn't even know his name.
Her first thought about him had been that he seemed young. The frown lines and furrowed eyebrows relaxed while he slept and he did seem at least younger than her. But when he was awake and all the years he'd lived showed on his face and she couldn't been sure. She checked his wounds once again, and couldn't help but trace the line that crossed over his nose. If that had been the only thing she was treating, if she hadn't felt watched, it was likely she could have healed it completely. Without a scar. It wasn't a risk she could take, not on a First Order solider. Not on a man with light saber wounds.
She was just smoothing the edges of the patch back into place when the door behind her slid open. In an instant she was on her feet, posture tense and ready to run if she needed to, and the troopers parted to allow the red haired man from before inside. One of them nodded to him as he stepped forward, "General Hux, sir."
Hux, she thought to herself. It was an abrasive and cold sort of name, and giving the man a once over she decided it suited him.
"Report." For a moment she wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or her guards, but his eyes narrowed and snapped to her after the seconds pause. "How is he, then? Not dead, I presume."
"I presume I would also be dead by now if that were the case," she couldn't help but bite out back at him, quickly moving to the open kit to distract from her moment of poor judgment.
"For now he's stable. His stomach isn't distended, there isn't any bruising that I can see that would tell me if there was internal bleeding or any damaged organs. I can't be sure, without the proper equipment, but like I said he's stable."
She glanced over at him. "It will all scar, though."
Hux scoffed, as if scars were the most insignificant thing he could think of, taking two long strides over to the bedside to look down at her handiwork. "In your opinion, he will live?"
Her lips pursed, she had to be careful there. She couldn't promise anything, things could go wrong without her being able to react. "From the information I have, and with proper rest and psychical therapy, I should think so."
The look on his face as he looked over the carefully patched up man gave Alya the impression he didn't much care for him. She couldn't help but wonder why he had tried so hard to save his life if that were true. Before she could think on it, the General turned on his heel and stalked towards the door and her armed guard. "You will inform me immediately when he wakes. Immediately."
She didn't get the chance to respond, the door having already snapped shut behind him, and she let out the breath she'd been holding. Something had shifted in the room as she spoke with Hux, something he hadn't noticed. Something she shouldn't have. Her eyes slid over to the bed, outwardly there was no change but she was experienced with patients trying to fool her.
"I take it you don't like him either. I don't blame you, he's quite grating, isn't he?" When she does turn his eyes are open, glassy but aware. "You're not going to try to kill me again, are you?"
In any other situation it might have been a statement laced with sarcasm, but not then. She watched him cautiously, almost curious, for any sign he might attack. Not that she thought he would be any more successful than the last time, but caution had to be taken. He was dangerous, she would have had to be a youngling not to realize it, and she had no desire to be on the receiving end of his anger.
"Who are you?"
Her hand ran through her hair, a nervous gesture that made her glad she'd already cleaned his blood from her fingernails.
"Your doctor, unfortunately. I'm none too excited about it either, if you hadn't noticed. You were beaten quite soundly, you're lucky you're even awake." He didn't like the mention, she guessed he'd lost his fight, and didn't respond. She took the opportunity of his silence to keep him completely informed, her old medic instincts starting to kick in.
"He said to tell him when you were awake, but you should still be sleeping. You're body has been through a trauma, it needs to recover."
She leaned back in her chair, arms crossing in front of her chest, her irritation at the whole situation rising to the forefront. "If you don't trust me, that's fair, but I didn't save your life just to kill you. You die, I die. Simple as that."
"I can't."
For a second she thought she might have imagined it. His face barely shifted, his eyes narrowed at the ceiling above them, but she knew something was going on. It could have been pure exhaustion, it could have been her words, or it could have simply been the weight of his thoughts that made him speak up. Whatever it was, it was the first honest emotion she'd seen on him and she wouldn't waste it.
"Trust me?"
"Sleep. I can't."
His tone was final, as if he thought there was genuinely no other option for him. She didn't pity him, but if there was something going on in his head, something big enough that he was convinced he wouldn't sleep? That in itself was something that made her heart crack open, just a bit.
"Too many thoughts? Or just one big thought that's taking up all that space?"
She didn't trust him, didn't know him, but something passes through his eyes and all she wants to do is fix it. Old healer instincts, her teacher would have told her. Do no harm, she thought with another three deep breaths.
His eyes snapped back to her when she slid her uncomfortable chair closer, and she could see how tired he was. Her hand reached out slowly, not wanting to trigger any harmful reflexes towards her. Fingers brushed against the skin of his forehead and she could practically feel the turmoil going on in his mind. That, at least, is something familiar. Something she'd done many times for children in her city with nightmares.
"What is your name?" She kept her voice calm and soothing, letting herself pretend he was just another patient. It took a long moment before he responded, she wasn't sure if he would at all.
"Ren." He almost seemed to choke on the word, but when he spoke again his tone was sure. "Kylo Ren."
"Ren," she repeated back to him, brushing dark hair away from pale skin, "you need sleep. You're so tired, you're in pain. Sleep will help."
There was a warmth, a feeling she'd known for years but hid for her own safety, and she pressed it forward through her hands. She could feel him fight it, but he was not in his best shape. Her power wasn't strong, it wouldn't suffer an assault, but she was thinking he wanted to let her win. His eyes slide closed, and she couldn't help the little smile on her lips.
"Sleep. There will be peace, no dreams, no orders. You can rest now."
