Chapter 2: Close Call
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Carth woke up to the smell of freshly brewed cafa. Body heavy, he recounted the restless night he should have not just endured. Their bellies were full and their spirits high. Sleep should have overtaken him easily, but a glaring cold loneliness unpleasantly persisted on the skin where she had been.
He peered out through his eyelashes and discreetly surveyed the room. Asira took sips from a tin can as she buzzed around, inventorying their remaining supplies. She faintly hummed a familiar tune, an old cantina band song nostalgic of his Mandalorian War days. Something about her composure and quick recovery made him uneasy. She appeared completely undaunted by the impossible mission ahead.
While she toiled on in the fresher, he slugged off the bed and into his crumpled clothes. Today had to be a day of results. He leaned toward the fresher and spoke loud enough to carry through the door, "We can probably get some equipment and supplies here in the upper city. If we don't do anything stupid we should be okay. After all, they'e looking for Bastila not a couple of grunts like us."
She flung the door open and greeted him with a glare, "Grunt? Speak for yourself, captain. And just how, exactly, do you expect to get decent supplies with no credits?" The punch of her 'captain' knocked Carth backwards, and the devious gleam in her eyes proclaimed she would laugh in his face if he so much as whispered the suggestion of an order in her general direction.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. We earn some. There's got to be some odd jobs out there for a couple of, uh… non-grunts like us."
"Let's at least start by scavenging around the complex. These upper city nobles have good stuff and won't notice if a few things go missing."
He didn't approve of what Asira should consider stealing. Yet somehow, she convinced him their dire need and noble mission more than atoned for the offenses. He expected her effort to fall apart when she got a good look at the first-class security standing in their way. Annoyingly enough, her hands were nimble, graceful as they worked together to finesse each of the locks without triggering any alarms.
What exactly was her position with the Republic fleet again? Her credentials didn't add up to anything.
Physique of an elite, albeit petite, mercenary?
Command of a remarkable number of alien languages?
Specifically requested by Bastila's party?
And now security expert?
He tried to keep his curious glances brief, but she was a powerful siren. Analyzing her unintentionally became admiring her. She was a paradox to him. Known and Unknown. Trusted and untrusted. Wanted and unwanted.
Carth's head spun trying to keep up.
"Hey Carth?...
...You okay there, flyboy? Ready to get out in the fresh air? We've tapped the potential of this apartment complex." Asira brushed her hands clean on the front of her pants, leaving faint soot marks in the shape of her fingers.
"I guess if we're ever gonna get the hell off of this planet, we have to embrace it first."
As they took their first steps on the boardwalk, Carth drew a deep breath, pushing, even if just for a moment, all the thoughts from his head. His attempt at a fresh start. There could be no distractions.
/
Carth expelled his lungs with a hiss as he peeled his shirt up to inspect the damage. "A bolt just skimmed me enough to take out a few layers of skin. A little bloody, but I'll be fine." Asira shuttered at the sight. No doubt, the bolt had skimmed him. A blackened crater inhabited his left hip. Most of the surrounding skin was a bloody bubbly mess. The frustrated pilot was certainly playing it cool.
"How about that? Esteemed Captain Onasi shot up by a couple of lowly bounty hunters before we even reached the cantina? You might need to embrace Taris a little less next time." Asira poked fun to lighten the mood. In reality, they were lucky he wasn't dead. And even luckier no Sith patrols stopped them.
"I suppose I should have just let them drag the guy off? They were bounty hunters, Asira! Waving blasters around in an old, defenseless man's face!" Carth's contorted scowl tunneled a hole between her eyes through the mirror's reflection. He was rightfully peeved. Their first trip outside the apartment could only be described as a failure.
She grit and sucked her teeth as he wormed around, attempting to get his shirt off without twisting or flexing his core. Only a few of the swear words he muttered under his breath were recognizable. Even in pain, there was a lionhearted look to him. Asira pulled a chair to the side of the refresher door, back to where he leaned his weight into the sink.
"You need a hand?" She tried to sound casual. If Carth was going to accept help, she had to be seen as a fellow soldier, not the mysterious women he'd just met. He ignored her for a while, franticly fumbling through a pile of medical junk, eyes squinted, concentrating as if threading a needle, until he finally gave in, "I'd just cut it right off. If I could find the damn thing to do it."
"You're drawing this out." Asira kept her lowered voice steady and leaned nonchalantly in the refresher doorway. A potent combination of apprehension and excitement clashed in her gut. She fought it from crawling further up her throat. Essentially, he was a stranger. Then why was last night a torturous exercise of imaging what might convince him to slip into her bed?
Sharing the small room with him now was similar torture. Like staring down a delicious meal right out of the fire, every ounce of her aching to indulge despite experience knowing it would scald her raw. Asira welcomed the ache.
"It could be off already." Before the words fully left her, Carth flung the supplies he held up in the air and brought his hands down with a thunderous clap on the countertop. "Hurry up then." He roared, a loud deep, resonant sound that vibrated off the walls.
The display of explosive strength startled all the hair on her neck to attention, then churned into something carnal deep in her belly. She slipped behind, dragging herself against him, and stood on the closed toilet lid. It was necessary. Carth towered a good head above her, and she wanted to pull the shirt straight off.
"Raise your arms."
He did as told, sucked in a large breath and held, "Go."
Nice and steady. Not too fast and not too slow, the shirt came off, over his head. Asira's eyes dripped down to take in each inch of new flesh as it was revealed. His scent quickly filled the small space. It swirled around her head like a fine wine.
/
He should have just lounged in bed all day. All he managed to do instead was not die. And now he couldn't even take off his own shirt. Luckily, the pain that radiated out of Carth's side was a powerful distraction from his failure. Asira's face was also painfully close to his chest. She had come down from her toilet stoop and pushed him back, placing herself between him and the sink. Her nearby heat calmed the still icy coldness she'd left before.
She leaned in closer still, inspecting his wound. "A thorough rinsing and good bandaging is really all this needs."
"I can handle it."
"You'd have to twist around to rinse it properly and bandage it all up. It'll make it worse. "
He buried his face in his hands and signed deeply. "Look... Please. Just drop it."
"No. I won't. Carth, you didn't leave my side for days. I've avoided thinking about all the things you must have done to keep me alive. This isn't pity. It's duty."
"It's been a while since... I mean, I uh... I just hate feeling this... helpless." He'd almost rather be dead than her see him this vulnerable. Than let her into his space again. It was too intimate. And he knew from experience that the emptiness she left behind was even worse.
Asira lifted his hands and guided them on top of his head, elbows out to the side. "Stay still, just like that if you can." He didn't have the energy to defy the order even as the tight skin around his wound stretched further.
Dropped down on her toes, she squatted to meet the gash, open legs straddling his. Her proximity roused every nerve in Carth's body, a tingling reminder he was not solely a man of honor, but of desire. His skin buckled with each new placement of her fingers. The cool water she poured down his side was a stunning contrast to her warmness. Did she understand the consequences of her touch? It was dizzying and required intentionally deep breaths and a wide anchored stance to keep steady. He hoped her influence on him was easily mistaken for an appropriate response to pain.
Giving in to the temptation of glancing down almost ruined him. Asira had shed her bulky tunic, the scant top she wore underneath revealed the soft roundness of her breasts. They brushed against his torso rhythmically as she passed the bandage around him. Thankfully, it seemed she was too focused on her task at hand to notice his admiration. Not knowing where to next direct his gaze, he closed his eyes tight and intended to keep them that way until the trill of his heart settled back into its long-standing pace.
/
Within the first moments, the effect of her touch on Carth became clear, and she languished for the opportunity to demonstrate what else she could do for him.
So she lingered with each dab and stroke, waiting for him to give in until she couldn't draw it out any longer. That damn soldier had conviction. But this was an opportunity she couldn't waste. As she carefully pulled herself up along his tensed body, she snuck a faint kiss on side of his muscled chest. If he wasn't paying attention, it might have gone unnoticed.
Carth's head snapped her direction and his eyes flicked down to hers. They were glazed, flickering flames. She sucked her lips and savored the salty tang of him.