S-2_C-22: The Recovery

Four months later...

"Push against my hand until you feel pain."

Biting my lip, I shifted on the exam table to prepare to straighten my leg against the resistance. My left leg, significantly weaker than my right, trembled with the effort of just holding it in place. I slowly pushed against the medical officer's hand until my quadricep predictably protested.

"There," I grunted through the pain.

"Stop."

I instantly relaxed and tried to catch my breath. Grasping my thigh, I rubbed the pink, sensitive skin there with gentle thumbstrokes. After all, it was only a week old.

"Much better," Duval was saying as he typed away on his datapad. "At last week's checkup, you couldn't even hold it up."

"Thanks, Major," I said breathlessly. "I've been at the gym every day this week."

"Excellent." He gave me a brief, proud glance. "Just don't overwork yourself. We have plenty of time before your next surgery."

While Duval continued with his notes, I pulled my pant leg down and reached for my mobilizer brace. "What is the timeline for that looking like?"

"Identical to the surgery on your leg, minus the bone realignment of course," he replied. As always, his ability to type and speak simultaneously amazed me. "It will take four months to grow enough native skin cells for the transplant. In the meantime, the titanium alloy will remain in your arm while you continue physical therapy."

I subconsciously palpated the metallic plate on my forearm—it seemed so normal to me by then. The patches of titanium embedded into my skin were cool and sensationless. They sporadically stretched from the top of my shoulder to my elbow, ending at my outer forearm. While they had saved me from developing terrible scars in the wake of my injuries, I wasn't too fond of them.

"I'm just glad that my leg hasn't rejected the transplant," I mumbled aimlessly.

"It never will," Duval chimed. "It is your own skin. That is why it is worth the wait."

I smiled when he looked my way. "Right," I said, nodding. Strangely, he kept staring at me for a moment. "Something wrong, Major?"

"No, my lady," he said, clearing his throat. "Only that we discovered something from the urine sample you provided."

I leaned forward, pinching the bridge of my nose anxiously. "Stars—protein again?"

The major cracked a rare smile. "Not quite..."

...

Each piece of armor clicked into place one by one. My new suit of armor, strictly for show, prioritized comfort over combat readiness. More importantly, it was a million times easier to get into. I swept my long hair into a loose bun before placing the signature chromium helmet on my head.

Although I was five minutes early to the war meeting, Kylo was seated at the head of the table with Hux at his right side. Passing the handful of generals already in their seats, I took my place on Kylo's left. I had barely sat before Kylo shifted towards me slightly.

"How was your appointment?" he murmured. Without seeing his face, one could barely tell that he was speaking at all.

"Fine," I whispered, glancing at the prying eyes down the table. "Some news, but fine."

"'News,'" Kylo repeated, tilting his head.

My eyes ended up on Hux, who sat directly across from me. He quickly smothered the smirk on his face with a purse of his lips. I felt my face heat up behind my mask.

"Let's speak later," I told Kylo. Unlike his, the voice filter on my helmet made quiet conversation an impossibility. I lifted the datapad in front of me to get up to speed on the activities of the fleet until the meeting started.

As usual, it began with each general giving a brief on the status of their assignments and personnel. This portion was typically the longest; however, there was not much news to report this time. In fact, barely any progress had been made on the front lines in the past week. A tangible sense of trepidation hung in the air as the last general finished his report, and for good reason.

Kylo rose to his feet in a smooth motion; he stood with his back facing the table. The viewports of the circular room displayed a placid sea of stars, but the atmosphere inside was anything but calm. I flexed my gloved fingers with nerves, more so for the generals than for myself.

"We are at war," Kylo began in a fairly mild tone. "A war where the fate of the Galaxy hangs in the balance."

Scattered affirmations and hums of agreement filled the room.

"Every moment we waste"—the word was spat like venom—"is a moment given to the Resistance to grow its forces." When Kylo turned, his anger was more than evident as he placed tense hands on the table. He turned his chilling glare from face to face, silently demanding an explanation.

"S—Sir, if I may." General Pryde stood slowly, clutching his datapad in his hands like a vice. "The campaign into the Core Worlds...demands a price that we are unable to pay."

As the other generals vocalized their agreement or dissent, Kylo listened with a thin veneer of patience.

Another general stood in support of Pryde. "Our fleet is too scattered to launch such a sizable assault on the Core, let alone Coruscant."

"Every planet that we occupy is essential," Hux snapped in retort. "We must not consolidate the fleet."

"I agree," another voice stated. "The risk of losing vital resources is too great."

As the chatter continued, I pulled my datapad closer to see just how scattered we were on the Galaxy map. Save for parts of the Outer Rim and the Core Worlds, we occupied every system. The Colonies, the Inner Rim, the Mid Rim, and the Unknown Regions were all under First Order control. How tight or loose the control, at a glance, was unknowable.

"Lieutenant-General Graves," I said, projecting my voice across the room. The heated debate ceased at the sound of Captain Phasma's voice. "How fare the Western Reaches?"

"They fare well, ma'am." The elderly Graves stood with his usual grace, turning to address me properly. "Well enough to spare several battlecruisers, I suspect."

"I would exercise caution with that line of thought, Captain," Hux interjected. I glanced at him with mild surprise as he stood and faced Kylo. "Supreme Leader, like I said last week, we need more ships. The need is dire."

Kylo crossed his arms without meeting Hux's eye. The two had not been on speaking terms for some weeks.

"Our forces are not scattered—they are effectively engaged." He shot a look at Pryde. "What we lack to properly assault the Core is not an issue of priority but of volume. We need more ships, more recruits."

Silence filled the room and stretched. Every gaze but Kylo's was fixed on Hux, who maintained his usual indignant posture. Before I realized I was speaking, I heard myself say, "I agree with General Hux."

Instead of looking at me, Kylo finally turned his glare on Hux. "We don't have that kind of time," he snapped.

"Respectfully, Supreme Leader..." Hux inclined his head in a rare show of respect, or perhaps, supplication. "We must make the time."

Kylo advanced on him, coming toe-to-toe in an obvious display of intimidation. I half expected Kylo to seize him by the collar. "How much time, General?" he asked instead.

"Give me a week to run some algorithms, and I—"

"How much time?" Kylo thundered. Though Hux's shoulders straightened, he showed no other sign of fear.

"Months," Hux stated.

After a few empty seconds, Kylo withdrew to slam his fist into the table. Hux winced at that, no doubt grateful that it wasn't his face. The generals' expressions around the table were stricken.

"I want detailed plans from each of you by the end of day. Understood?" Kylo ground out.

"Yes, Supreme Leader!" rang out in unison.

With that, the meeting was over.

As the room emptied, I waited for Kylo to leave with me. He stood by the viewport, gazing out into the stars with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. A minute passed before I felt a nudge on my shoulder—it was Hux. He was giving me a weighted look.

Feeling a small sense of guilt, I left with him. Since I had officially assumed the role of military advisor, I had always left war meetings with Kylo. Even the most recent ones, where tensions had been at an all-time high. With Resistance activity universally low, finding them was like finding stardust in a cellar.

"Thank you, Caltrel," Hux said as we walked back to the Command Suite. I glanced back to make sure we were out of earshot of the retreating generals.

"For what?"

"Supporting my plan publicly," he explained, glancing at me sideways.

"It's nothing." I shrugged. "Your plan is logical."

"It means more than you know. Most of those old kriffs respect Captain Phasma more than they respect me," Hux said with a grimace.

"That's not true," I said, thinking otherwise.

"And Ren—" He laughed dryly. "He doesn't listen to good counsel. He only listens to himself and to...well..."

I caught the pointed look in his eyes. It wasn't the first time he had asked me to bend the Supreme Leader's ear in private. "I'll speak to him," I promised hesitantly.

After settling in my quarters for the evening, I busied myself with meaningless tasks to keep my troubled thoughts at bay. The war seemed to be at a tipping point. The news from my appointment wasn't particularly happy or sad, though perhaps it should have been. Kylo's reaction would tell one way or the other. To further distract myself, I listened to a music collection while I worked. It was ethereal and catchy—so catchy in fact that I continued humming it long after it stopped.

I was rearranging some drawers of clothes when a second voice suddenly joined mine, followed by a pair of arms around my waist. Laughing through my surprise, I forced myself to relax in his arms.

"Kylo," I said, leaning back into his chest, "I thought you might be upset."

"Hm, upset?" he murmured. "Why would I be upset?"

I didn't reply as he continued humming. He began to sway us in time with the song, and I realized just how good of a mood he was in. My eyes closed to savor the fleeting moment.

Kylo leaned down to whisper to me, "We are on the verge of making history. My lover is by my side." I felt his lips brushing my ear, and it sent a chill down my spine. "What is there to be upset about?"

Twisting around in his arms, I looked up at him with a smile beaming on my face. "Nothing at all," I said, rising up on my toes to place a kiss on his lips.

As if this had triggered something within him, he swept me off my feet with a growl and carried me to the bed. I laughed as he set me down gently, crawling over me with a devilish smirk. "Nothing at all, Lady Caltrel?" he repeated teasingly.

I shook my head, suppressing a girlish smile as he ran his hands down my thin night clothes. His hand stopped at my mobilizer brace and began to unstrap it.

He tenderly stroked the skin beneath."So smooth," he whispered.

I shivered at his touch. Reaching up, I pulled at the fabric of his collar. "You're wearing far too many clothes," I whispered back.

He seemed to like that; a smile grew on his face. He dropped his head to my neck and began to place butterfly kisses there. "I'm not done with work for the day...," he mumbled into my skin, "but you are."

I jolted when his hand slipped beneath my waistband. When his fingers found the ticklish spot near my hip bone, I practically screamed in surprise. "You naughty—ah!" I laughed until my ribs hurt as his delighted face came in and out of focus. Eventually, I seized his wandering hands and playfully pushed him off of me.

Laughing, he rolled onto his back and lifted his hands in surrender. Then, he reached for me. "Come here," he said, pulling me to his chest.

I curled against his side, feeling lighter than air. A peaceful moment passed as we laid together, basking in one another's presence. After all the heartache that we had been through, it felt amazing to finally be at peace. I wished for it to never end.

"Tell me the news from your appointment," Kylo reminded me. I felt him begin to fiddle with a piece of my hair.

A lump grew in my throat as I reconsidered telling him. "Four months," I said vaguely. I gripped the front of his tunic, watching the fabric bunch between my fingers.

"Until?" he pressed.

"My next surgery. Physical therapy in the meantime."

"I see." I felt the subtle pressure of his fingers splaying over to the titanium plate on my shoulder. "That's good news."

I felt strangely relieved that I had decided to not tell him yet—perhaps that was not such a good sign. Instead of worrying about it, I settled deeper into his side, and he responded by wrapping his arm around me slightly tighter.

I'll tell him the news tomorrow.