Summary

"It was still raining – Cal could see the drops flicker briefly as they passed by the neon lights that dimly illuminated the streets. He sighed with relief, reassured that he had reached District 32 safely, and headed for Prauf's apartment. He forced his exhausted legs to take a few more steps. All his muscles were on fire, he was on his last legs. Only the pain in his shoulder kept him from collapsing. He sincerely hoped that the Abednedo could help him – once again."

A/N: I am sorry to post this chapter so late, but I was waiting for the proofreading from my beta reader. Unfortunately I have no news since July, so, I post here the not proofread version. If someone among you wants to help me and become my beta reader on the end of this fic, do not hesitate to contact me by PM!

Chapter 9 – Healed (1st time)

When Cal finally managed to extricate himself from the wreckage, it was dark. He was greeted by a light cold drizzle that quickly soaked his hair, sliding down his poncho and chilling him to the bone. He pulled his hood up over his head to protect himself from the rain, and more importantly to hide his bright red hair and his face probably covered in blood – he did not want to attract the attention of an Imperial patrol. Then, hiding his splinted arm under his poncho, he headed for the station in hopes of catching a train to District 32, while trying not to slip in the mud.

Luckily, there was a train ready for departure – the last one of the evening. He climbed into the last car – there were usually fewer people at the back of the train, and it was better for him to be discreet. And indeed, Cal was alone in the car. He slumped with a sigh on the uncomfortable seat. In an hour, he would be safe in his room.

The train was racing towards District 32. Cal glanced out the window right behind him. Despite the bright lights that intermittently illuminated the rails, he could not see the desolate landscape of Bracca lost in the dark night – there wasn't much to see anyway. Bracca was just a vast heap of gray rock, mud, and ship wrecks.

Raindrops tried desperately to cling to the glass before letting go and sliding along the smooth surface, carried away by the wind and the speed. Cal brushed back a strand of soaked hair stuck to his forehead and falling before his eyes. He shivered – a mixture of cold, fatigue, and pain that was still spreading in waves throughout his left arm.

His gaze accidentally fell on his reflection in the glass. He looked really bad. His facial features were marked by tiredness and an impressive amount of dried blood – the wound on his nose had fortunately stopped bleeding – stained his chin. However, he did not dare remove his hood to take a look at the wound – he could not see it well, lost in the shadow cast by his hood.

He definitely could not stay like that; he had to find a way to heal his wound or it would get infected – never mind his left arm. He did not have a medkit at home, and he could not reset his dislocated shoulder by himself anyway. He could not go to a free clinic either. If the doctors drew his blood, they might discover he was Force sensitive and they would turn him in to the Empire.

No, he had to find someone to help him, and he could only think of one person who might have the equipment and discretion he needed: Prauf.

Rule #3: trust no one.

He did not know if he could trust the Abednedo. He trusted no one. However, Prauf was the closest thing Cal had to a friend. If anyone could help him, it was definitely him.

The train finally arrived at the District 32 station, stopping with a chorus of squeaks and squeals. Cal waited a few minutes before getting off the car, making sure all the other passengers had already left to go home after their exhausting day.

Once alone, his hood still on his head, he stepped off the train and walked through the station, his footsteps echoing on the flagstones of the concourse, empty at that time of night. He cautiously walked out into the street – there was no one in sight. It was still raining – Cal could see the drops flicker briefly as they passed by the neon lights that dimly illuminated the streets. He sighed with relief, reassured that he had reached District 32 safely, and headed for Prauf's apartment. He forced his exhausted legs to take a few more steps. All his muscles were on fire, he was on his last legs. Only the pain in his shoulder kept him from collapsing. He sincerely hoped that the Abednedo could help him – once again.

Cal could see the surprise in Prauf's eyes. The Abednedo must not have expected to see him there, in the middle of the night, on the threshold of the door of his apartment, his face deathly pale and tired and his nose bleeding. He rushed the young boy into his appartement and sat him on a chair.

"Kriff Cal, what happened?" asked Prauf with a worried look.

"A bad fall," Cal replied in a tired voice.

"Wait here, I'm going see if I have a medkit left," Prauf said as he stood up.

Cal took his hood off and sat quietly, waiting patiently for the alien to return – he could hear him rummaging around in the bathroom, cursing. He sighed and looked around the apartment. Most people would have thought it small and dingy, but it was luxurious compared to anything Cal had experienced in the past two years: there were two rooms – the bedroom and the living room – and it even had its own bathroom. A legacy from his life as an engineer, before he became a mere scrapper.

Prauf finally returned, victoriously lifting a medkit above his head.

"Found it!"

Suddenly, Cal felt blood running down his chin again – the wound on his nose had reopened. Eyes wide with horror, he watched the big red drops fall on the Alderaanian carpet that covered the floor to hide its misery. He panicked suddenly, dreading the Abednedo's reaction at the sight of his beautiful carpet now soiled with crimson stains.

"Prauf, I... I'm sorry..." stuttered Cal as he tried to stop the flow of blood with his able-bodied hand while his eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Prauf reassured him with a shrug. "It was my ex-wife's. She left it here when she left us, Bracca and me. Anyway, knowing her, I'm sure it's a fake."

However, despite all of Prauf's kindness, Cal couldn't stop himself, and he suddenly burst into tears.

"I... I'm sorry Prauf. You're the one who got me this job. And once again, I failed and ruined everything."

"Hey, easy, kid, okay? You're alive, that's all that matters," Prauf replied kindly, gently wiping the blood from Cal's face with a damp cloth. "We're on Bracca here. Everyone who works here, at the scrapyard... we've all failed at one time or another – otherwise we wouldn't be here. You're not the only one. So just calm down. We're going to take care of all this, and then it'll get better."

Prauf finished wiping the blood and tears from Cal's cheeks, then then passed a cloth soaked in disinfectant over the injury in a gentle gesture. The boy winced as the antiseptic stung his nose. Then Prauf took a bacta patch from the medkit and stuck it on Cal's nose, stopping the bleeding.

The boy ran his fingers along the bandage. The wound was wider than he thought. Seeing his gesture, Prauf resumed:

"It'll heal the wound, but it won't be enough to make the gash disappear. You're gonna have quite a scar. Well, one more or one less, I think it won't make much of a difference to you."

Cal nodded in agreement. Prauf was right – he was already covered with scars, and this wasn't a new one that would change anything.

"Okay, now we're gonna take care of your arm. I'm warning you right now, kid, it's not gonna be a pleasure cruise. C'mon, get down on the floor."

Cal take off his poncho covered in blood and dirt and obeyed, a lump in his throat from apprehension. Prauf began to pull slowly but firmly on his arm. When the pain suddenly increased, Cal brought his able-bodied hand to his mouth and, in a natural but stupid reflex, sink his teeth in the back of his hand, as if this second pain would ease the first. He felt the joint snap back into place and stifled a cry of pain, while tears came to his eyes again. Suddenly, the bone regained its place, and the pain suddenly subsided.

"Take that," Prauf said, handing him an ice pack.

Cal grabbed it and pressed it on his still sore shoulder while Prauf stood up to get something from the kitchen.

"Gotta admit, you're pretty tough for a kid," Prauf noted as he came back with a glass and a bottle of whiskey. He poured a great dose in the glass before handing it to Cal.

"I know you're not old enough yet, but take it. It'll do you good."

Cal took the glass and looked at the amber liquid hesitantly before swallowing it in one go. He felt the drink slide down his throat, burning it like liquid fire. Surprised, he coughed and felt the tears wet his eyes. Prauf stifled a chuckle.

"If you want, you can sleep here. I'll get you a blanket and the couch isn't too uncomfortable. You can take a shower in the meantime. I'm going to give you a change of clothes – yours are covered in blood. And if you're hungry, feel free to help yourself."

"Thanks, Prauf. You've saving my life once again," Cal said, embarrassed at having disturbed the Abednedo in the middle of the night.

"Er…. It's nothing. We scrappers have to stick together," Prauf replied with a wink before leaving for his room.

Cal stood up to take a few steps and stretch his legs. He felt dirty and exhausted. Prauf was right – once again – a shower would do him good. He stepped hesitantly into the bathroom. It had not changed since the last time – it was still a mess. Still achy, Cal painfully removed his muddy boots and dirty clothes before slipping into the shower and turning on the water.

He heard the old metal pipes gurgling before the shower finally released a stream of hot water, immediately filling the room with white steam. Leaning with one hand against the shower wall, he lowered his head, letting the warm water run over his hair, neck, and back. He watched it trickle down to his feet and disappear in a small whirlpool into the shower's siphon, taking with it what was left of blood and sweat. It was as if this hypnotic whirlpool had a magical power, that of erasing the bad memories of this hard day.

Once clean, Cal finally turned off the stream – he didn't want to waste Prauf's water. He stepped out of the shower and quickly dried himself with a towel before tying it around his waist. He looked down at his arms and chest – they were bruised, probably from his fall. He exited the bathroom just as Prauf came out of his bedroom, his arms laden with a blanket and some clothes.

"Sorry," he said as if apologizing. That's all I could find."

"It'll be enough, thank you" Cal replied with a smile to thank him for his generous help. Prauf had already done a lot for him. He didn't want to bother him further.

Prauf wished him a good night and went back to bed. Cal took off his towel and put on the clothes given by the Abednedo. They were a baggy for him but at least they were clean – and they didn't have any holes. Then he lay down on the old couch and pulled the rough blanket over him before sighing with relief.

He thought about what had happened. It wasn't the best day he'd ever had, far from it, but not the worst either. He was lucky to know someone like Prauf – very lucky. His head was spinning – it was the first time he had ever drunk alcohol.

Exhausted, he finally sank into a deep sleep, not noticing the shadow cast by Prauf who was watching him with kindness, a fond smile on his lips.

A/N: Sorry again for all the mistakes that must still remain!