Summary

"He shrugged and was about to turn back when something – his instinct, perhaps? – stopped him.

He shouldn't leave. He didn't know why, but he felt he shouldn't leave. It was as if there was something drawing him, ordering him to stay – no, to get into that locked office at all costs."

A/N: As in any good hurt/comfort fic, after the hurt here is finally the comfort ! Enjoy !

I thank melrosethecat for the beta-reading.

Chapter 5 – Rescued (1st time)

Prauf had to hurry. It was still very early – the sun hadn't even risen yet – and he had to be back in District 32 by seven o'clock, the time his work day began.

He walked up the main street of District 21 which was still empty at this hour – the night owls had long since gone home, and the workers were just starting to wake up before getting ready to go to the scrapyards.

The Abednedo did not like District 21. It was one of the most dangerous and ill-famed Districts on Bracca – a dump where the worst kind of vermin roamed and where the law had no existence.

But there was one thing Prauf liked even less than District 21: Darzay.

The human was a sort of self-appointed owner of the city, and with the support of the Hutt Cartel, he engaged in all sorts of illegal business – racketeering, prostitution, arms trafficking, spice smuggling, and even black market.

Prauf had to admit that this last point was very convenient for him. Since the advent of the Empire, the black market had become the only way to quickly obtain certain goods such as medkits quickly. And it was precisely medkits that Prauf needed today. His team had already used up their entire monthly supply provided by the Guild, and they weren't even halfway through the month. So Prauf had to find more – it must be said that there had been a lot of accidents in the last few days, and their supply of bacta had melted like snow in summer. None of his usual dealers could supply him with the quantities he required, so he was forced to turn to a larger supplier – Darzay.

Prauf really didn't want to deal with him, but the safety and health of his teammates was at stake. He was known as a good team leader – altruist – and he hoped to remain so.

Prauf arrived at the front of the Seventh Heaven, a high-end brothel known to be Darzay's headquarters. This was where he had been given a meeting. He quickly entered the main room, a bar whose neon lights were off at that time of night – or rather morning. No one was there. Prauf assumed that Darzay was in his office. Luckily – no – he had been here once before, and he knew the way.

He walked up a wide hallway, his feet sinking into the soft carpets that covered the floor, until he arrived at the imposing wooden carved door of Darzay's office. He knocked politely on the door and waited several seconds for an answer that did not come.

He knocked a second time, louder. Still nothing.

Prauf frowned. Had he got the time wrong? He took his little notebook out of his pocket. No. No, he hadn't. It was strange. It was not Darzay's habit to be late. Something was wrong.

Prauf put his hand on the door handle and lowered it, but it was locked. Exasperated, he sighed. Dank farrik. He had come for nothing.

He shrugged and was about to turn back when something – his instinct, perhaps? – stopped him.

He shouldn't leave. He didn't know why, but he felt he shouldn't leave. It was as if there was something drawing him, ordering him to stay – no, to get into that locked office at all costs.

Prauf tried once more to open the door, without success. After a short hesitation, he cautiously glanced behind him. Alright. The hallway was empty.

He took two steps back to gain momentum and darted toward the door in hopes of breaking it down. The first blow of his shoulder was not enough to open it. The door gave way on the second blow, and Prauf stumbled headfirst into Darzay's office. He recovered his balance at the very last moment and straightened up.

Surprise replaced worry. Prauf had to admit that he had not expected such a sight. It looked like a tornado had passed through. The furniture had all been knocked to the ground, even the desk which looked heavy and massive. The shelves on the back wall had collapsed, and the cups and statuettes were scattered on the floor. Even the paintings hanging on the walls had fallen down. Prauf noticed an overturned crate, its contents spilled on the floor – the medkits for which he had come.

Kriff! What had happened here?

That's when he saw her. He hadn't noticed her at first because of the ambient darkness. A little girl – a human – with long, dirty red hair, and who probably didn't even reach his waist, was huddled in the corner of the room, trembling with fear. Her eyes were reddened with tears, and she looked at Prauf with a look of terror. Her half-ripped tunic hung miserably over her shoulders.

Prauf winced in disgust. Even an idiot would have understood what had happened here. Darzay was known for his varied tastes – men, women, humans, aliens, he liked it all. But to abuse a kid – she wasn't even fifteen! Darzay was really a pig.

Speaking of Darzay...

"Where is Darzay?" asked Prauf gently to the girl.

The kid didn't say anything, but she cast a furtive and terrified glance towards the shelves, as if she had seen a ghost. Prauf moved to the back of the room before bringing his hand to his mouth. Nausea overcame him when he discovered Darzay's corpse, his pants pulled down to his ankles and his skull crushed by one of his heavy bronze trophies.

"Shit. What the—"

Whoever had done this to Darzay hadn't failed. The rage that had been in them was almost palpable. Prauf would almost have wanted to thank them for ridding Bracca of that scum if it hadn't been in such a violent outburst.

His eyes went from the girl to the corpse, then back to the girl. This scrawny kid couldn't have been the one responsible – she clearly didn't have the strength to take Darzay down, let alone kill him. Darzay was big and strong for a human. His killer had to be even bigger and stronger – probably one of his henchmen who had wanted to take the boss' place. Prauf assumed that the girl was just an unfortunate witness who had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The killer had probably left her alive to take the blame.

Prauf went back to the girl and knelt before her. He couldn't leave her like this, or the stormtroopers would arrest her, and child or not they would make her life hell – although Prauf had no doubt that her life with Darzay had been hell as well.

He stared at the child. Her face was strewn with freckles and bruises. Her jaw was covered with red marks as if someone had squeezed it very hard, and an ugly scar adorned her neck. Her lower lip was bleeding profusely, staining her clothes with a myriad of scarlet dots – it was badly split. Her nose was also full of blood – dry blood – but it didn't look broken. Her left cheek was bruised and her eye was almost closed because it was so swollen, but she was aiming the other one – green and vigilant – at the Abednedo.

"Hey," he said in a voice that he tried to make as soft and unthreatening as possible. "Are you okay?"

She nodded without saying anything.

"Did... Did Darzay…"

The words formulated by his brain refused to come out of his mouth, but the girl immediately understood what he meant and she shook her head. Prauf sighed with relief. At least Darzay hadn't had time to touch her – at least not in the way Prauf had feared. That was something.

Prauf stood up to pick up one of the medkits on the floor, and then returned to the girl. She was back on her feet. It was at this moment that Prauf realized his mistake. The chest was too flat, the hips too narrow to be those of a girl. His long hair had misled him, but it was a boy standing before him.

Even in the darkness, Prauf could count his ribs through the large holes that studded his tunic. He also noted that his pants were too short for him – how long had it been since he had new clothes?

The Abednedo pulled a wet wipe from a pouch and gently wiped the blood from the boy's chin.

"My name's Prauf. What's yours?" Faced with the absence of an answer, he continued. "I'm a cutter from District 32. I was just coming to buy these medkits for my team," he explained to make conversation, not really expecting an answer.

Once the blood was cleaned up, he sighed and looked at the boy.

"Listen," he said. You shouldn't stay here. If the stormtroopers catch you, you... It'll probably be worse than Darzay, you understand?"

The kid nodded, listening to him carefully.

"You must dash off here, okay? Find a place to hide until things settle down. Do you know where to go?"

The boy nodded again and smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Reassured, Prauf sighed before turning to pick up the scattered medkits from the floor and put them back in the crate. Then he took the crate under his arm, and after giving the boy one last look, he left the office.

Once in the street, he walked towards the station. The first pinky light of dawn was beginning to appear, and with it the first passersby. Prauf recognized two of Darzay's henchmen – a Trandoshan and a Weequay – ordering caf. Prauf smiled. They were in for quite a surprise when they took up their jobs this morning.

Prauf continued on his way, lost in thought. He thought about the boy. About that fake smile he had given him just before he left. As if he was just trying to reassure him. Prauf stopped dead in his tracks. He bit his lower lip. He felt guilty for leaving the kid behind. But he had come to buy medkits, not to burden himself with an orphan.

"Damn it!" Prauf exclaimed.

Without further thought, he abruptly dropped his crate on the ground and ran back.

Quick! He had to get to the Seventh Heaven before Darzay's henchmen did. He ran swiftly up the streets to the brothel. When he finally reached it, he rushed into the building, ran through the still empty bar, skidded on the corridor carpets, and finally arrived out of breath in the office. As he had feared, the kid hadn't moved an inch since he left.

"Come with me, hurry up," Prauf urged him.

Like the obedient slave that he was, the kid followed him into the hallway without question.

However, just before he reached the bar, Prauf stopped abruptly. He had heard voices.

"Where's Darzay?"

"Probably in his office. I think he had some fun with the little scrap rat last night."

"Yuck. He's all skin and bones. Well okay, I'm going to see the boss."

Shit! The Trandoshan and the Weequay were already here. Prauf grabbed the boy by the shoulders and turned him toward him unceremoniously.

"Kid, we need to get out of here fast. Do you know another way out?"

The boy nodded and took Prauf's hand in his, leading him to a side door that led into a dark alley in the back of Seventh Heaven. Once out in the open, they kept running as if they had the devil on their heels until Prauf felt they had put enough distance between themselves and Darzay's men.

Prauf stopped, gasping, and looked at the gaunt kid with a worried look. Given his state of health, he hoped he wouldn't die on him. However, he was tougher than he looked. They both caught their breath. Once he had recovered from his emotions and his efforts – he was no longer twenty! – Prauf looked at the boy, scratching his head. What the hell was he going to do with him? That's when he had an idea.

"I... You know, if you want... I'm sure my team of scrappers would be willing to take you on. We always have a shortage of riggers – it's a job that requires agility. You're not very tall nor very fat, and you're pretty fast. You'd fit right in. If you're interested, I can get you on the team. It's not a very well-paid job, but... it'll be better than Darzay. What do you say?"

He saw the kid's eyes light up as if he had just told him it was the Life Day. Prauf smiled. Then his gaze shifted to the tunic studded with holes and blood.

"Before we leave, we'll have to take care of this," said Prauf, pointing to the boy's chest. "You can't stay like that. We'd get stopped, we'd get asked questions and..."

Prauf stopped talking to take off his work poncho and hand it to the kid, who took it and put it on without saying anything. It was too large for him and almost reached his ankles, but at least it hid the misery underneath.

"C'mon kid, follow me," said Prauf, nodding to him. "We have to hurry if we don't want to miss the next train to District 32."

Suddenly, he heard a small voice behind him.

"Cal."

"Huh?" said Prauf, blinking in surprise.

"My name's Cal," the boy replied, smiling shyly – a sad, melancholic smile, but this time it warmed his weary eyes for a moment before disappearing. "And... thank you Prauf."

Prauf felt his heart warm as he heard the kid – Cal – speak for the first time. He gave him a big smile before inviting him to follow him.

They walked up the main street to the station. Prauf discreetly watched the kid stare at the world around him with eyes that had seen too much, too young. When they arrived at the station, Prauf bought two tickets for District 32. He also bought a sandwich and gave it to Cal – he was going to have to put some weight back on him if he wanted to make a decent rigger of him. The boy thanked him before devouring the sandwich. Considering the speed with which he wolfed it down, he must have been really hungry.

Then they walked through the station concourse toward platform D7 where their train was. Prauf felt Cal tense up as they passed an Imperial patrol.

"Calm down," Prauf reassured him gently. They'll never know you were in Darzay's office. They'll understand that it was a settling of scores and won't look any further."

"It's not that, I—"

Cal paused. Prauf could see the fear in his eyes. Whatever this kid's past was, Prauf could see it still haunted him.

They arrived at their train and boarded the car. Prauf sat down on the first free seat he could find, and Cal dropped down next to him, stifling a sigh. A few minutes later, the train began moving, taking them both to the safety of District 32.

During the journey, Prauf felt Cal wriggling nervously. He was wringing his hands, glancing anxiously at the door. Prauf glanced at him with a sorry look. How had he fallen into Darzay's clutches? And where were his parents? Prauf sighed. He was probably an orphan – there were more and more of them in the streets of Bracca since the war. And that scar on his neck, from where did it come? Surely not from Darzay – he was careful with his goods. Prauf looked at it again. It had been poorly treated and was still red and swollen – he would have to look at it when they arrived.

Lost in thought, Prauf felt something press against his arm. It was Cal – he had fallen asleep, and his head had slid against the Abednedo's shoulder.

Prauf closed his eyes for a moment, too. He hadn't brought back the medkits his team so desperately needed – Tabbers was going to grumble again. But that didn't matter. A kid's life was worth more to him than a crate of medkits. He would find another way to get them, he was sure.

Suddenly, Cal writhed in his sleep.

"Forgive me, Master," he muttered in a pleading voice.

Even in his dreams, Darzay kept haunting him – unless it was someone else? Prauf wasn't sure to whom the boy was talking.

The Abednedo looked again at the long red hair and freckled, bruised face pressed against him. He sighed again. Bracca was definitely not a place to grow up. A child needed the love of his parents to thrive, and Prauf was nothing like a father. But he knew at that moment that in the absence of helping him thrive, he would do what he could to help the boy become a man – a good man.

Yes. He would do everything he could to watch over him.