Oh, and in case it's getting confusing, italic text is Rune's point of view, and regular text is Ashton's.
I remember sounds and smell first. Hushed shuffling in the hall. Muted laughs from beyond that in other rooms. Quiet murmurs at my side. It was consideration for the dead that they spoke little, giving me silence. Even so, I could still identify them immediately as they filtered in and out, one or more coming to sit. Such a sweet, feminine smell from the woman, like soap and herbs. Even when she left, it lingered in the warmth from the fire. She must have bandaged me and cleaned my wounds. The Elder came frequently with his mate, scented of stiff paper and ink. Always at night, long after the sounds form the rest of the house had halted, the boy appeared. It was warm forest and sweat, light with the musk of adolescents.
He never spoke during the day, but I often heard his soft footsteps in the hall, much softer even than his mother's were. He would pause during the day, only to have offered encouragement from whoever was in the room. Perhaps he was never satisfied with their diagnoses, for he would come again that night and sit next to my bed.
One evening, the elder Jedi closed the book he had been reading, placing it at the foot of the low palate as he sat beside it. For a while, I could feel him regard me in his calm manner. Slowly at first, he expanded his awareness like a humid puff of air, carefully and systematically checking my injuries. He lingered longest on my twisted shoulder, tracing the injury with the delicate detachment of a surgeon, testing the bone strength with gentle pushes. When he retreated, I could hear the smile in his voice. "Now, don't speak, don't open your eyes. I know you are awake, but I can understand your reasons for not appearing so. You are very lucky your bones made clean breaks. We had some trouble setting the compound fracture in your shoulder, since it seems it broke in two places, one a previous wound that was partially healed, despite your missing quite a large piece of your collar bone." He stifled a cough, as if this revelation was of particular interest to him.
When he spoke again, he was more solemn, as if conveying an intimate secret. "You know, he would have killed you, but he didn't. He's a good boy at heart, despite...Pasha and I have come to terms with the past. We understand sacrifices." Another significant pause and he affected the smile a second time. "You are our guest for as long as you decide to stay with us. Take it as you will." With a jostle of the bed, he stood, and the room was silent once more.
Ashton came that night, just as I expected, stealing into the room and quietly depositing himself in the chair to my right. This time, he stayed no more than an hour before he hastily stood, muttering under his breath, "I don't understand why I even do this..."
"Please," I said as loudly as I could manage, my entreaty coming out as a harsh whisper. "Stay. I enjoy your company."
I heard his steps pause, this silence so sudden that I immediately realized I should have given him more warning.
"How did you know?" he breathed, his words rushing together as he stood frozen.
I blinked slowly, the world fighting for purchase as I attempted to focus unused eyes in the dark room. "I know every night." My speech was halting as I struggled to sit up, ignoring the burning in my chest.
He rushed to the bedside, grabbing my shoulder in an attempt to steady me. "No, you shouldn't move. You're still very hurt yet." His wide eyes were luminous as he reached his other arm behind me, adjusting the pillow at my back in an unconscious gesture.
"You smell like leaves," I murmured. "It must still be autumn."
He blushed, the warmth radiating from his face as he pulled back suddenly, his eyes darting across the bed. "Ah, well...you haven't been...here," he struggled with the wording, "for a fortnight." Just as quickly, he was silent again, lowering his head just enough that his dark hair fell into his face.
I couldn't believe how eagerly I regressed into a giddy teenager, rushing to her aid. I was better than that. This wasn't a friend this was my family's enemy. Jal's enemy. Here I was, blushing at her words and the touch of her bare shoulder above her bandages...
After Mother had cleaned the wounds and reset the breaks, the tissue surrounding the offending joint had been so badly torn she could only wrap it tightly to Rune's body. It was the only leverage offered to me, so I had grabbed it without thinking. I hoped it hurt. I hope it still hurts. She continued watching me once I helped her though, her expression never once changing even after I had released her and lit the single candle over the mantle. The darkness was unsettling, especially with her.
Sitting slowly in the room's only chair, I refused to look at the wounded woman, hoping she would have to shift to her side to continue watching unmitigated. Instead, she leaned into the pillow, resting her head against the wall where it met the palette bed, her free arm curling almost protectively around her injured one as she looked at the far wall as if lost in thought. In that position, she remained, so still I thought she had fallen asleep again. Almost casually, I attempted to glance her way, only to find her green eyes trained on me with a quiet insistence that made me freeze again, my breath catching. Only this time, I had enough presence of mind to control my abject daze with a snort, even if I couldn't force my eyes from hers. I hated how she had that power over me, to make me into something I didn't want when I fell under her searching gaze. Her verdant eyes were never empty, always bright with something just underneath that made her pale features so eerily expressionless. I could tell right away that my parents were right when they told me she was getting better. Already, the dull grey of her skin was bleeding into the muted white of before, the shadows of her face dimming, as if she were absorbing the light into her being, leaving only the cold around her. The pit of my stomach tightened at this icy aura, leaving me to wonder if her flesh was cold as well, forever surrounded by her chill. Surely she felt it, for it made me tremble. I scowled at her.
"Stop it," I made myself say.
Her lips curled into the same enigmatic smile that made me hate her all over again. "Stop what?"
"That." I turned away, crossing my arms over my chest in mock of her body language. "Stop that. You're looking at me."
Immediately, the chill subsided, though I could still feel her attentions. My scowl deepened.
"So if you've been awake this entire time, why didn't you tell us?"
"Ah," she purred, as if the ice had bled into her voice. I caught the taint of an accent, as if she was more accustomed to speaking something other than Basic. But then, I already knew that.
"I was aware, but not awake. Self-induced hibernation." And not particularly one for conversation. She was making me talk, I realized, as a way of disarming me. At least, I decided that much. I couldn't accept that I was jabbering on to cover my anxiety or the questions that barraged my thoughts, fighting to be asked.
As if she read my mind, she added, "You have questions. Please, I owe you at least that much."
To hide my surprise, I made a noise in the back of my throat as if that were the last thing I wanted to do. "Ok, what's your name?"
"Rune..." She hesitated, but the smile never left her lips. "Rune Ariala."
"I'm-"
"-Ashton Na'al. I know." Her mellifluous voice quieted, and I wasn't sure if I heard her correctly when she said, "I know all about you and your family."
We sat in silence again, her gaze redirected and vacant. When I dared to glance at her once more, she had bowed her head and closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. The dark warrior had fallen asleep.
Silently, I stood and tip-toed from the room, extinguishing the candle as I went. Peaceful dreams, Rune, I breathed, even the thought sounding far too loud in my head.
As I pulled the dividing curtain to and started off towards my own room, a chill breeze graced my spine, and I wrapped my arms around my thin tunic for warmth, mentally cursing the weather. Before I departed, I heard another whisper in my mind, [ Thank you, Ashton. ]
