A Jedi was trained to not be attached. They were taught about death at an early age, and with the war in full force, and the dangerous missions Jedi so often took, raised around it. Biting back tears, Tyro inched closer, placing a tiny trembling hand on Gavyn's singed tunic near where the blaster bolt had hit him, leaving that horrific crater of a wound in his chest. Tyro was a good Jedi. He followed the code, practiced acceptance probably more than most of his peers...and yet he could not bring himself to let this go. Gavyn couldn't be dead. Not now, not after everything that had happened. He was the only person who had taken him in, fought beside him, defended him, from both enemies and peers alike. Gavyn was going to teach him how to be a good Commander, how to defend himself with a lightsaber, how to meditate. Gavyn was going to make him a Knight, and one day Tyro would be a Master himself with a Padawan of his own to pass Gavyn's teachings on to and he would be proud of them both. But if Gavyn was gone now he would have nothing. A good Jedi would have realized these too were attachments, to ideas of a future that could never be assured, but right now Tyro did not feel like a good Jedi at all. On top of everything else, the force had abandoned him, and without it, his Master, and the Jedi order, all that was left was a small, terrified and broken kid.
"I'm so sorry," Tyro sobbed. What was he going to tell the council? What was he going to tell Ace? None of that really mattered now though as Tyro pulled himself back into the moment, shaking, resting his head on the uninjured side of Gavyn's chest, tears silently falling down his face and onto Gavyn's already soaking wet robe.
Then he noticed it. It was faint, something that Tyro would have never felt without being this close, and at first he thought he was imagining it but something in the small part of the force that he could feel told him it was true, it had to be. Gavyn was still alive.
"Master!" It was difficult to contain his excitement and focus, but that was what he had to do. There was still a chance, he could not mess this up now. Immediately Tyro drew back placing his hand on Gavyn's chest. He could heal the wound, like his Master had done countless times with him. Gavyn had pulled him back from the brink of death more than once and now it was time to repay that favor. Tyro took a deep breath and closed his eyes, recalling the feeling. Gavyn had only ever taught him how to heal his own wounds but this had to be similar enough. He took another deep breath, then another, visualizing the force, pushing it towards Gavyn, towards the wound. He could do this he could…
Once again the force slipped through his fingers, repelled as if by magnetism. It couldn't do this! Not now! Not when Gavyn needed it! This was his fault not his Master's! Tyro took a stubborn breath and tried again, this time not bothering to close his eyes, focusing everything in the horrible wound in his Master's chest, willing it to close.
It began to work, he could see the darkened edges drawing closer and...suddenly Tyro fell back, gasping for air. The the singed edges of the wound were not gone and with dismay and alarm Tyro realized it was only his vision that had been closing in. He tried to push himself back up but his limbs were shaky and weak. He hadn't helped Gavyn at all, merely put himself in a position where he could help him less. Gavyn would have been disappointed, and the force officially hated him. Tears of frustration burned hot on his face as Tyro caught his breath, the darkness finally receding. Weakly, Tyro pushed himself up, wiped his eyes, and reevaluated the situation. He rummaged in his bag and pulled out some sopping wet bandages and dressings-it was better than nothing-and did what he could with the rest of Gavyn's wounds. It was not much.
The water from the swollen river was still lapping at Gavyn's legs, and Tyro was positive it had risen and was still continuing to do so. They couldn't stay here. Pushing himself to his feet once more Tyro set himself, reaching out to the force again. Gavyn was easily four times his size, but compared to the objects Tyro was used to controlling through the force, this would be nothing. Tyro took a deep breath, then another. The force was still slipping from him, and Tyro chased after it.
He took another breath. Still nothing. Actually absolutely nothing. With a pang of horror he realized he could not even feel the force. He reached out, desperately looking one more time. He needed it now! Just this once and he would not need it again! There was nothing.
Instead he searched for his comlink. If he could just contact Ace he would know what to do. As he pulled it out though he realized that of course, it was dead. He frowned, watching the water drip out from it. He could mess with it now, but all the parts were wet, turning it on would fry it instantly then he would never be able to contact someone.
Part of him wanted to scream, but that had never been his, nor the Jedi way. Without the force and his Master as he still even a Jedi anymore? Tyro bit back his frustration. Everything he did relied on the force and it had chosen now, of all times, to abandon him.
"Come on Master we have to move please wake up please." He lifted one of Gavyn's massive arms, hanging it over his shoulders, and tried to pull. Gavyn did not budge. He tried grabbing on to the top of tunic, but his shoulders slipped through his grip and Tyro fell back, landing hard in the mud. Taking another deep breath Tyro got up and tried again. There had to be a way to do this.
He looked around for anything that might help. There! Up the bank a bit was a plank of wood washed ashore. If he could just roll Gavyn onto that and then pull it like a sled? No...he still would not be strong enough. He looked around again. If he could lay a track out of those logs…
A couple hours work had them not nearly far enough from the shore. The sun had almost completely dipped below the horizon and Tyro could swear he could still hear the rushing rapids, though perhaps it was all in his head. It was far enough that they were safe from immediate danger, however if that dam was to break, as it could full well at any moment, they were in real trouble.
He was exhausted however, and he had no doubt that going at this another few hours would make any difference. What they needed now was a fire and a safe place to stay for the night.
Tentatively Tyro lay a hand on the side of Gavyn's face. He was chilled to the bone, and his Master was no better. He had already draped his robe over him, but it was wet too like everything else they had, and was so small over the other Jedi it was laughable. At least Gavyn had taught him how to make a fire, and thanks to his "no force" rule on Hapes. That was, for what it was worth, an accomplishable feat.
Once the fire was lit and burning brightly Tyro pulled them both closer. Still he shivered in his torn clothes. Remembering he had left his other outfit in his bag he fetched that out, trading out his tunic for his leather jacket, and pulling on his other pair of pants. It too was still wet but at least it would be warmer.
He lay his torn Jedi robes and comlink by the fire and stared distantly into the flames, his mind completely blank. What were they going to do now? Should he leave Gavyn and go find help? But what if someone or something got him while he was gone? Should he try and do more for Gavyn's wounds or leave those covered as so not to make them worse? Should they wait out the night or keep moving? Then the horrifying question of how much longer was Gavyn going to survive like this. There was too much to decide, too much that could go wrong, too much he did not know.
A Jedi was supposed to be in the present, Tyro finally decided, even though he did not feel much like one right now. Right now he was too tired to move on and they both needed to rest and warm up. Shivering and miserable he pushed himself closer to his Master, hoping that between the two of them they might be warmer, though not so much as to disturb any of his wounds. He lay there for a while, comforting himself with the feeling of his Master's shallow but mercifully still present breathing against his back, but he could not bring himself to close his eyes and rest. There had to be something more he could do for them. He stared at his hands for a while, then at Gavyn's limp form, and holding back a sob he pushed himself to his feet and went in search of more firewood.