Authors Note.
This plot bunny has been driving me mad since the start of season 2. Since I have epic writers block on everything else, I finally let those bunnies go!
I haven't written outside of Marvel for a very long time. My Star Wars lore is very rusty so please keep that in mind for anything canon. This is set before season 1 and will continue through season 2.
Otherwise, read and enjoy!
The exhaustion was clear in her step. The darkness hid her face, as did the heavy cloak. None of the other planet occupants paid any attention to the slumped figure walking along the darkened street.
Her sole purpose was to get home before it got much darker. Although these parts knew the cloaked figure well, there were still plenty of figures around who weren't local.
Syn wrapped the cloak around herself tighter as she hurried along as fast as her aching feet would carry her. The darkness seemed to be growing with every passing second. The nights on Osoria were long enough already. Coming into the winter season made the days even shorter. The rough outer rim planet was poor and teeming with plenty of people hiding from their pasts. Some were just trying to make a living, scraping to get by in a struggling economy. Others preyed on the poor and the weak.
And those were the ones usually out during the night.
Syn turned around a corner. Despite her fatigue, the familiar landmark made her steps pick up. There were rough parts of town. Then there was this part of town. It was the only place Syn could afford to live. Walking home from work any time after sundown was the worst part of her day.
Doors and windows were all tightly shut. Rough material covering windows made it seem even darker. All the closed windows and doors had another problem. No one could hear screaming if the worst was to happen.
Syn breathed a relieved sigh as she rounded the last corner to her tiny house. One more alleyway to cut through and she was home.
Her peaceful walk home was interrupted at the end of the alleyway five steps from her front door.
A tall figure came around the opposite end of the alleyway. Slumped against the doorway, the stranger seemed to be struggling to stay on their feet.
"Hey," Syn called out, against her better judgment. "Are you.."
She didn't get to finish the sentence. Whoever the figure was fell to their knees and face planted into the ground.
Throwing caution to the wind, Syn ran over to the stranger. In the darkness, a pool of blood was already starting to spread.
Leaning down, Syn squinted in the darkness to get a better look. The person was wearing a helmet and a large heavy cloak. As she rolled them over to try and find the injury causing so much blood loss, she nearly lost her grip at what greeted her.
A Mandalorian helmet. The heavy cloak was hiding the distinct armor on the front of the man's body. A knife protruded from the side of his chest where the armor didn't cover.
Without hesitation, Syn grabbed the Mandalorian underneath his arms and heaved with all of her might. Her own house was only steps away. Walking backward, Syn unceremoniously dragged the unconscious Mandalorian with her.
Despite the frigid air, she was sweating heavily in the short distance. Stopping briefly to unlock the door, Syn managed to get him inside.
With the practiced ease of getting armor off prone soldiers, Syn managed to move the breastplate enough to get a good look at the wound. The beautifully decorated hilt of a dagger greeted her.
Syn knew those decorations. Clawdite bounty hunters occasionally had them. Dipped in some exotic poison, they were designed to inflict a long, slow terrible death if the dagger didn't kill its intended target. It was a horrible death. One that was almost always guaranteed unless the doctor knew exactly what it was. Luckily for the Mandalorian, Syn had seen this once before.
Wasting no time, Syn began to cut away at the undershirt to get a better look at the wound. The blood was steadily pooling at her feet. Wrapping some of the cut undershirt around the dagger wound, Syn pushed against it as hard as she could.
The Mandalorian stirred beneath her touch, gasping and flailing as Syn tried her best to stem the flow of blood. A weak gurgling sound was coming from the wound. Syn knew what she had to do. If she didn't do it soon, the poison was going to take over.
"Shh," Syn said, stopping to touch his mask briefly. It left a stain of blood against the cold beskar. "I'm sorry this will hurt."
Without hesitation, Syn yanked the dagger out of the wound. The man underneath her thrashed violently.
"No," a half lucid strained plea came from underneath the helmet.
Ignoring the plea, Syn moved quickly. Her healing kit was in a satchel around her side already. The long day had diminished her supplies. Shaking them out onto the floor, while keeping the pressure on the wound, Syn felt a stab of helplessness. This needed more than she had in the pitiful handful of supplies.
Still, she had worked with worse wounds with a lot less than was scattered on her floor now.
Throwing the blood sodden rag aside, Syn grabbed her last field dressing and clamped it down on the free flowing wound. With her free hand, she tore open a package of blood clotting powder.
"I'm going to put clotting powder in," Syn began to describe what she was going out of habit. "Otherwise you're going to bleed to death before I can do anything else."
A strangled groan was her only answer.
Rolling the Mandalorian onto his side, Syn did exactly as she said. Knowing what was coming next, she held down the injured warrior with all of her strength.
He struggled with all of his might. The only saving grace was Syn knew it was coming. Unlike most of her patient's he didn't scream. The powder used to stop the bleeding was excruciating. It felt like being burnt alive. Syn had gotten it in tiny cuts many times and felt like her hands had been on fire. He stopped struggling quicker than Syn anticipated, allowing her to get back to work.
The wound quickly stopped bleeding, letting Syn get a closer look at it. Wiping the excess blood away, she cringed at what greeted her. The edges of the wound had already turned black with ugly red lines. The poison was in his system.
"I'm sorry Mandalorian but this is going to hurt even more," Syn said with a tired sigh.
Getting up, she made her way to a locked cupboard underneath the sink. There was a safe that held the last few precious and rare supplies she'd managed to acquire over the years. The biometric reader to open the safe was the only thing in the house that was high tech.
The pouch of foul smelling powder was exactly what Syn needed. Opening it, the smell made her gag instantly. The stench filled the house and it would take at least a week for the smell to stop lingering. Holding her breath, Syn quickly mixed it with water.
Kneeling down beside the still figure, Syn grabbed a handful of the stinking poultice. As she was about to put it on the wound, a gloved hand caught her wrist.
"No," the Mandalorian said again. "You leave me. This is the way."
His grip was loose enough the Syn was easily able to escape his grasp.
"Unluckily for you, I'm a proper doctor and it isn't my way to let a patient die when I could have helped them," Syn said firmly. "I do apologize in advance for this."
Without waiting for a reply, Syn slapped her hand down over the wound, coating it in the foul smelling poultice.
This time he did scream. Syn tried to keep him as still as possible. His flailing limbs were making it near impossible. She caught sight of the vambrace a second too late before it connected with her face.
The force of the blow knocked Syn back onto her back. The pain made stars explode before her eyes. Grabbing the injured part of her face with her clean hand, Syn leapt back onto the thrashing figure.
It felt like an eternity before he was still again. The ragged breathing sounded worse than before. Fresh blood coated both of them and left a mess on the floor.
Syn was breathing heavily herself. Her face was rapidly swelling, leaving little vision out of one eye. The burning pain just below her eye distinctly felt like a broken bone. She had them before and unfortunately knew exactly what it felt like.
Ignoring her rapidly closing eye, Syn quickly got up and washed her hand of the poultice. Her tiny house stank already and with the combined coppery taste of blood, made her empty stomach rebel harshly. Once her hands were clean, she dug through the cupboards in search of anything she could use as bandaging. Her meager supplies were looking emptier than usual. She had nothing at all.
Syn looked down and the grey cloak caught her eye. It was tattered at the edges but looked to be heavy material. Chewing on her lip, she made a snap decision.
"I'm going to have to use your cloak for bandages because I'm out," Syn explained calmly as she knelt down again. "There's been a new band of bad guys moving through town and I'm stitching up more wounds than I care to count."
There was no reply except for the continued ragged breathing.
With a struggle, Syn managed to free the cloak. With more practice of doing this than she thought she would ever have, she cut the thick material into long strips. Whatever the cloak was made out of, it was exceptional material. Syn fingers lingered along it, enjoying the texture of the well spun fabric. It made her think of better days.
Forcing those thoughts away, she knelt down beside her patient again. On his side, it was going to be impossible to bandage the wound properly.
"Okay, Mandalorian," Syn said, more to herself than to her patient. He was showing no signs of being conscious. "This is going to require you to put your big boy beskar on and sit up."
Not waiting for a reply, Syn dragged him into a sitting position. Using the wall behind her as support, she sat behind him and held up the heavy figure. Not wanting to disturb the rest of the complicated armor of her body, she began to wrap around his chest.
With her now swollen shut eye and tired hands, it took far longer than she anticipated. The Mandalorian's body was heavy and slumped awkwardly against her. When she was done, Syn stayed in the same position, closing her eyes.
She could fall asleep. It wasn't the worst position she had ever slept in or the most uncomfortable. At least the heavy body in front of her was warm.
Knowing the side effects of the poultice, that wouldn't last though. As effective as it was for drawing out any poison known, it also had horrible side effects. The first gave the patient chills, followed by an impossibly high fever. The fever was enough to kill a person. That's if the infection didn't get them first.
With that thought fresh in her mind, Syn untangled herself from the heavy figure. Laying him down as gently as she could on the rough wooden floorboards. Moving to the smaller room that served as a bedroom, Syn collected blankets and a pillow and took them back out into the main room.
The Mandalorian was hadn't moved an inch from where she'd left him. His ragged breathing could be easily heard in the quiet room. Even though it was gurgling and sounded labored, his breathing was the best Syn hoped for right now.
Throwing the heavy blankets over the unconscious body, she sat back against the wall, closing her eyes. Wrapped her own thin cloak around her, Syn was comfortable enough. It would get cold later, but that was far from her mind.
Even before the Mandalorian had shown up, it had been a long day for her. Syn was the local doctor, dealing with everything from wounds from bar fights the night before to helping a Twi'lek deliver another offspring. There were all kinds of species living on Osoria. It had been a learning experience when Syn first came. Now very little rattled her.
A Mandalorian was new for her though.
Syn stretched her memory back to days where she had every book available to her and spending hours pouring over anything she could get her hand on. She could only recall very vague memories of a war against the Jedi and a civil war. The armor was the only thing she could remember because of how distinguished it was.
Sleep tugged at her. The more she tried to remember, the more the exhaustion took over.
A muffled groan jolted her back awake. It was darker than before, showing hours had passed. It felt like seconds to her.
Scrambling over on her hands and knees, Syn found the Mandalorian flat on his back. His teeth were chattering and he was clutching at the wound on his side.
"You're all right." Syn instantly grabbed another blanket, throwing it over him. "It's a side effect of the poultice I put on it to draw the poison out. That and this hell hole is always cold."
There was no response. Not that she expected one anyway.
"I'll get a fire started," Syn continued, rubbing her eyes. She hissed in pain at her aching face. The swollen shut eye was really sore now. She wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Now she was up and moving, it really was freezing in the little house. "Maybe even some dinner."
Glancing out the window, the pitch back of night meant it was closer to breakfast than dinner. Syn breathed out, seeing her own breath misting in the frosty air.
With practiced ease, she had the fire going in a few minutes. The little stove wasn't much but it did a good job of warming up at least the main room. In the dead of winter, Syn would drag her bed out into the room to not freeze to death.
From there, she contemplated her next move.
Moving her patient was going to take a lot more strength than she had in her right now. It also had the risk of worsening the bleeding. The poultice was already taking effect. She could see him unconsciously wrapping his arms and shivering, despite the pile of blankets on him.
The only other thing she could do was take a pillow and do her best to keep her patient warm.
Shedding her outer layer of clothing, Syn crawled underneath the heavy nest of blankets. Cautiously she edged as close as she could towards the Mandalorian so they were just touching. The warmth was enough to put her back to sleep quickly.