Author's Note: Today, we're revisiting a pivotal moment from "The Lands of the Dead". The italicized section at the beginning is taken directly from TLotD, and the title for this vignette comes from "Dark Matter" by Les Friction.

One of the twins is rescued, and the other is left behind.

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"The Darker View"

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When he wakes, Dorian realizes he's being carried. He cracks one eye open, ignoring the pain that accompanies that one small movement. The doctor glances down at him and smiles, an action completely devoid of warmth or happiness.

"Ah, finally awake, are we?" He says it as though the whole world hasn't just come crashing down around them.

Dorian can't even lift his head to see where they are or where they're going. Ash chokes him as he coughs and attempts to speak. "Veeran?"

The doctor quirks one eyebrow and studies him for a moment. "Your brother is already on the ship. He survived as well, but I would have expected you to know that, with your twin bond."

A small sigh of relief. How can he explain it to him? Feeling and knowing aren't always the same thing. He needed to hear it out loud.

"I made a promise," he whispers.

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Yalena, 44 ABY

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Dorian is still watching the little Jedi boy bleed out on the table when he senses a pair of eyes on him.

The doctor stares at him from the doorway of the lab as the alarm continues to blare, its constant, shrill wail rattling his insides. "Come, my boy," the old man says expectantly, single-minded in his efforts to ignore the noise. "This way."

He can't tell if he obeys because he wants to or because he has to, but he follows the doctor through the fortress, down hallways he has never seen, past windows he has never looked through. It all runs together, too much input, noise and light and blood and fear—

Fear. It hits him like a wave, powerful enough to overwhelm the wall he holds up around himself, spilling over, fear and panic and desperation – not his, and not the Sith's either, but strong and familiar and—

Veeran.

He stops and looks out the closest window, and he notices the sun is setting. His brother is close. He's really close, if Dorian can just find him.

"You aren't thinking of leaving me, are you?"

That voice is like a hook buried deep in his chest, reeling him in. He tries to shake it off, reaching for his left arm, for the scalpel he slipped into his bandages when no one was looking. "Stay away," he orders as he pulls the blade out, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "I'm not going."

The doctor eyes him with dark amusement. "Come now, child. You didn't really come all this way just to be blown up now?"

The hand holding the scalpel shakes, and he wonders if he'll have to use it. That thought, and his brother's fear, and every second of every minute of every day he has spent in this place hits him all at once, choking him. "My brother," he manages to say.

The doctor is still smiling that cold, patient smile. "Of course, of course. The wonders of the twin bond. I would have liked to explore it more. Alas."

Without another word, the doctor turns away and leaves him standing in the middle of the hallway, completely alone, no one to stop him from running away. He remembers what Malleus said, about the Jedi planting detonators all over the fortress. How long does he have?

Dorian spins around and runs back the way he came, glancing through the windows that line the corridor. There's a courtyard below – he's never seen that before either – and someone is running across it, sprinting toward a starship that has landed just beyond the compound. His breath catches as he realizes who it is: Ben Skywalker, Jedi Knight. He's carrying one child and dragging another by the arm.

Dorian throws himself at the nearest window, pressing against the transparisteel. "Wait!" he calls out, his voice scratching from his throat. "Come back! We're still here!" He runs along the corridor, slowing to look out each window, making sure the ship hasn't left yet. He has to find a way out, or get the Jedi's attention…

On the ground below, Ben Skywalker staggers as the child running alongside him stops and turns back, and Dorian's breath leaves him as he recognizes that child as his twin brother, fighting to get free of the Jedi's grasp. Skywalker reaches out and wraps an arm around Veeran's waist, shouting as he drags him toward the ship.

I'm here! Dorian calls out, forcing every ounce of desperation through the cord that ties him and his twin together. I'm here, I'm still here!

Veeran's head snaps toward the window, and he bucks violently against Skywalker's grip.

Don't leave! He curls his fingers against the transparisteel, his breath fogging the surface as he leans into it. Please don't leave!

Dorian! His brother's scream is deafening in his head; he can practically feel Veeran thrashing in his rescuer's arms. Come on, come on!

The Jedi Knight hauls Veeran into the starship, and the ramp begins to close.

"No, no!" Dorian slams his fists against the window and watches helplessly as the ship takes off, silhouetted by the setting sun. "Veeran!"

A plaintive wail rips through their bond, and in his mind's eye he can see his brother beating his fists against a gray durasteel deck, and he can feel the sobs in his chest as if they're his own, no, no, no, no, no…

He tries to reach out to Veeran again, but it turns out Darth Malleus was right about those detonators, and his last awareness is of the fortress breaking apart beneath him as explosions tear through it.

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When he wakes, Dorian realizes he's being carried. He cracks one eye open, ignoring the pain that accompanies that one small movement. The doctor glances down at him and smiles, an action completely devoid of warmth or happiness.

"Ah, finally awake, are we?" He says it as though the whole world hasn't just come crashing down around them.

Dorian can't even lift his head to see where they are or where they're going. Ash chokes him as he breathes in. He doesn't try to speak. There's nothing to say anyway, is there?

The doctor frowns and studies him for a moment. "I am sorry about your brother. Such a waste."

Veeran. The thought of his twin sends ice through his veins. Dorian pulls his defenses tight around him, draws the wall up as high as it can go. Even separated as they are, he can't risk letting anything slip through. He can't be a bridge for the Sith to reach his brother. Not ever.

The enormity of that realization finally hits him. This isn't a temporary severing like all the others. This is constant. This is permanent.

This is forever.

It has to be.

"What does it feel like?" the old man asks, coldly curious, as always. "Losing him in that way?"

He closes his eyes and lets his head sag against the doctor's chest, and he feels the yawning emptiness in the place where his brother should be.

"It hurts," he whispers, swallowing his tears and his weakness. But I made a promise.

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For a long time, the only sound in the cargo hold is the sound of his own stupid, pathetic screams.

Veeran loses track of how many times he throws himself at the hatch, of how many times he slams his fists against metal, tearing his knuckles to shreds. He loses track of how many times he shouts in Ben Skywalker's face, begging him to go back, calling him every foul name he's ever heard, without so much as a word in response. The Jedi Knight hasn't moved from his spot since he collapsed to the deck, still clinging to the dead Twi'lek girl in his arms.

The other kids, the ones who are conscious at least, are staring at him wide-eyed, as if he's completely lost his mind. He thinks maybe he has. His brother was always the smart one, the one with the brains. What good is Veeran now, without his other half?

One of the other Jedi kneels in front of him, and he finds he's too spent to fight her as she puts her hands on his shoulders. Anchoring him, he thinks distantly, like Dorian used to do. He goes rigid at her touch, his jaw set in a defiant line.

"You left him," he growls under his breath, staring down at the deck as he repeats the accusation he's already thrown at Skywalker a hundred times. What would she do if he tried to hit her? Would she slam him against the cold durasteel, tell him what a failure he is, how weak and stupid—

Her fingers bite hard into his shoulders, as if she's sensed his thoughts. Or maybe she's trying to get him to look at her. He won't give her the satisfaction. Bad enough that his face is streaked with tears, his skin stiff from the ones that have already dried. He won't look at her. He won't.

Eventually the Jedi lets go and walks away. He glances up at her as she leaves, and for a second he wants to say something, anything, to make her come back. He's not even sure why.

They arrive at the enclave, and as grown-ups swarm around him and lead him out of the ship, he realizes this is the place they sent him away from, the enclave Dorian was forced to leave because Veeran couldn't stop screwing up; and his legs give out from under him before he can take another step. Someone picks him up, lays him on a stretcher, and he watches bright amber lights pass at steady intervals overhead as they take him inside, and all he can think is that he deserves every terrible thing that has ever happened and will ever happen to him, for the sin of leaving his brother behind.

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Allana stands outside a closed door, the nervous fluttering in her stomach growing more agitated by the second, and she thinks about turning around and running the whole way back to her room. No one said she couldn't go in there, but they also didn't say visitors were allowed. He needs rest, her grandma had told the other kids when they asked about him. They all do.

She heard one of the grown-ups say he wasn't talking, and that they're keeping him separate from the rest of the children they rescued. She doesn't know why; something about special circumstances. She takes a deep breath and stands as straight as she can, and she taps the keypad for the door.

The room is dimly-lit, with a single bed off to one side. He lies on his back, white sheets drawn up loosely around his waist as he stares off into space. He looks up when she enters the room, and she sees confusion and panic flicker across his face. He doesn't seem to recognize her at first, but after a moment his eyes narrow, and he props himself up on one elbow.

"What do you want?" he says in that same cold tone she remembers. Strange, when everything else about him feels like a spark searching for something to ignite.

She twists her hands together in front of her, unable to respond. She shouldn't have come here. Her grandma already told her the name. Why did she think they were all wrong? Maybe she thought if she came here, it would be him, somehow. Is it bad that she wishes it were him instead of his twin? Does it make her a bad person to be sad that Veeran is here and safe?

He stares back at her. "You just gonna stand there or what?"

She shakes her head, remembering how he held her stuffed tauntaun too high for her to reach and looked at her like he's looking at her now. She wishes she was holding her toy right now, even if he probably would make fun of her for it.

He looks away from her and lies back down. "Just get out of here," he says, "and leave me alone."

She backs away quickly, reaching for the keypad. As she turns to leave the room, his anger gives way to a sadness so heavy, she can feel it pressing down all around her. She hesitates a moment. Then, quietly: "I'm sorry about your brother."

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't even move.

She slips through the door and closes it behind her.

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