Falling out of bed Jango's body spasmed as phantom pain wracked through him. Turning over, onto his front, he felt the rolling wave of burning pain in his chest and throat before he convulsed and vomited all over the floor. Choking back bile he tried to take a breath but found himself once again emptying his stomach. It felt as if he was throwing up his own stomach and intestines besides. His stomach cramped and lungs ached with a burning need for oxygen. When he was finally able to gasp for breath he shoved himself away from the mess and lay on his side, shivering uncontrollably as if he were detoxing a heavy drug. Small sobs wracked his body as flashes of pain, horror, and grief drove into his mind, like millions of tiny needles.
Crushed by falling rocks, burned alive in a crashed transport, riddled with blaster fire, drowning, electrocution, an insect crawling around behind his eyes, sucked out into space, suffocating, frozen, eaten alive, shot in the back by people he trusted, and worse yet- the downward slash of a red lightsaber. Hundreds, thousands, millions of deaths. There was only one thing that connected them all, one glaring detail that stuck with him.
His face.
It was his face over and over again, as if someone had copied him a million times only to kill him in the most brutal ways imaginable.
Who in the galaxy hated him that much? Or was it the galaxy itself? There was no way this was the Manda, where he would be met by those who had marched on ahead of him. No… this had to be something else.
"Ad'ika?" A worried voice called from another room. Jango stilled. There were only three people in his entire life who had called him that. Only two of them were male. He tried to make his mouth work, to call out, but the tremors and the feeling he might throw up again made him swallow whatever sound he might have made.
A solid form entered from the hallway, the bright light almost blinding and obscuring the details. A warm hand reached down to brush his hair away from his face. "Shh, we'll get this mess cleaned up. You'll be okay." Jango frowned. The voice was so familiar but it was not Jaster. Everything was hazy and it was as if his ears were filled with cotton. The phantom pains still flickered through him, making him twitch and want to cry out. Protective arms reached out and gathered him up, holding him protectively against a beskar clad chest.
"Come on ad'ika." Closing his eyes as they went out into the hallway, the light was still too much for him, he felt the man gently set him down on a counter. A cool cloth was placed against his feverish skin and he sighed in relief. Finally feeling as if he could open his eyes he blinked away the spots and looked up at the adult taking care of him.
Jango froze in horror as a man with his face smiled down at him. "Everything will be okay now, Boba. Buir's here."