PART TWO – BELOVED
This chapter contains material which may be upsetting to some readers. So as not to spoil it for those who don't want to know, I have put the full warning in the author's notes at the bottom. If you feel you need the warning, then simply scroll down to the bottom of this page.
His smuggling days are behind him.
He had a good run with Has Obitt and his circle, and he even got to meet a good family in the Ersos, but he couldn't stand being away from Onderon for long. The planet's pull was just too strong.
So here he stands in a tent buried deep in the humid jungle, some kind of insect buzzing in his ear and a map spread out beneath him.
The map shows his Partisans' locations and statuses. They're not good; they're never good. But this time, they just might be okay enough to do something.
"Saw?"
It's Tysha, a field medic with a sharp tongue and even sharper scalpels, and who Saw occasionally sleeps with after they've both had a fair amount to drink.
"What do you want?" he mutters, his eyes still trained on the holomap.
"I need to talk to you."
He doesn't have time for this. Saw leans further over the holomap, and grunts a response he hopes sounds something like 'I'm busy.'
"Fine. Be that way, nerfherder," Tysha snaps and hurls something at him before storming out of the tent.
Saw looks down to see what she threw at him, and his heart stops. He scrambles to pick it up, looks at it once. He's only seen this in holodramas and the few boxes in the medical tent – that must be where Tysha got this one. But why would she throw one at him?
He looks at it again.
No kriffing way.
"Tysha!" he calls after her, following her tracks to wherever she's gone to be angry at him.
…
"Are you sure?" he stammers, his fingers still closed around the pregnancy test.
Instead of answering him, Tysha lifts the bottom of her baggy shirt so he can see the evidence.
Yes, he's sure. "It's mine?" he asks.
She nods, lowering her shirt. "There weren't any others."
He doesn't know what to say. How did this even happen? Well, he knows how it happened, just not when. They used protection, didn't they? He doesn't remember all the time.
"When?" he asks.
Tysha counts on her fingers. "Far as I can tell, it was that time on Life Day Eve."
That one, he remembers. "But I wore a -!"
"And it broke."
Saw flounders, still in denial. "It didn't look broken."
"All it takes is one tiny tear." She leans back in her chair. "Why is the way it happened such a big deal to you anyway? You're not the one who's pregnant."
"Hey -."
"All I'm going to ask is that you help me when I go into labor," she says. "I don't have anyone else who will."
"I can do more than that."
"We aren't together."
"I know," he says quickly. "But pregnancy sucks. You should have someone to help you through it and since I'm the one who got you pregnant…"
"Well, can't argue with that." She sits down on the edge of his bed. "Thank you," she says and knits her swollen hands. "It does suck and I don't want to do it alone."
Saw takes a seat beside her.
"Well, you don't have to."
…
The two of them talk about what they'll do after the baby's born. A cousin of Tysha's who lives in Iziz is willing to adopt the kid, and Tysha and Saw will visit them according to schedule. (Which, Tysha says with an eye-roll, basically boils down to "whenever we're not being shot at.")
That's good. They can't have a baby running around a war zone; living in Iziz with a normal parent and a surname that isn't "Gerrera" is the best name to ensure his or her safety.
He only has one request, if the baby's a girl. And when Tysha hears it, she agrees.
…
He lies awake in bed on one of those nights, nights that are becoming more frequent since they found out she was pregnant. They're different now; they don't involve bottles or a desperate need for release after days when all they want to do is cast salt on every planet in the galaxy and let some other, halfway decent species to take over. Instead they're both sober, and he touches her because he wants to, and she kisses him because she wants to, a tangle of sweaty limbs beneath the blue Onderon sky.
Tysha lies curled in bed beside him, snoring lightly. Saw rests his hand on her belly.
He can't really tell between kicks and hiccups, but he swears he feels the baby roll around beneath his hand as if she knows he's there, or their activities have somehow disturbed her. (They haven't. At least, the thousands of holos Saw's read about it have said they should be fine.)
Tysha's crankier than a rabid fambaa if she doesn't get her sleep, so Saw only sings in his mind instead of humming.
I love you more than ocean, I love you more than sea
I love you more than anything, how do you love me?
The baby can't answer, or even really hear anything but the steady thrum of Tysha's heartbeat. But he does get a kick for his efforts.
Tysha stirs in her sleep and opens her eyes a slit. Saw reaches to stroke her hair.
"It's nothing," he whispers. "Just saying goodnight."
…
The peace shatters in the dark of the night when the ground shudders and jostles them from sleep.
Tysha sits up. "Please tell me that wasn't -."
"Bombs," Saw spits and steps into his boots. "They've been shelling the jungle looking for us, and it looks like they got lucky this time."
Tysha throws the covers off and starts fumbling around for her own boots. "Do you think it's just one of the random strikes, or do we have to move?
Another bomb falls.
"We have to move." The Empire doesn't use more than one bomb for blind strikes.
Tysha succeeds in finding her boots. "That didn't sound good. I might be a little late getting to the evac convoy depending on how bad the casualties are."
"Where are you going?" he demands while checking the batteries in his blaster. "You're pregnant. No combat allowed!"
"Not during a bombing. All medics on deck." She yanks the straps of a pair of men's overalls over her shoulders; it's the only thing that fits anymore.
"Good luck!" she yells over her shoulder, not giving him time to argue.
Instead Saw shoulders his blaster and charges out into the fray to help evacuate his partisans. The unfortunate thing about bombs is that you can't fight them; all you can do is get to shelter, get away, or both.
He looks for Imperial scouts. He shouts out warnings for incoming bombs. He organizes his partisans into carts and onto rupings and daglos and anything that can carry an adult's weight so they have a chance at living to fight another day.
"SAW!"
It's Tysha in the back of a cart loaded with four wounded partisans. Azar is at the reins with one seat open next to him.
And since you can't fight back against bombs, Saw takes the seat.
"How many more wounded do we have?" he asks Azar because Tysha has her hands full.
"This is it," Azar replies and spurs the tee-muss into a gallop.
A bomb falls screaming to the ground, this one no more than thirty feet from their cart. Saw and Azar brace themselves for impact, and with nothing to hold onto the shockwave sends Tysha flying. She slams into the side of the cart with an audible THUNK.
"Is everyone okay?" Azar shouts once he has control of the panicking tee-muss again.
Saw swivels in his seat. "Tysha?"
Tysha winces and gets to her feet. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Azar, keep driving before their aim gets better."
Azar spurs the tee-muss again and they race away with the rest of the convoy.
…
Saw isn't a doctor; he doesn't even play one on the HoloNet, but he can tell the injuries Tysha and Azar tend to will heal. A broken leg, a series of burns that will leave scars but won't kill, a nasty concussion that leaves the medics muttering under their breath about how much they wish they had a holoscanner, and deep cuts they stitch and bandage and hope won't bleed.
"You took a pretty good hit," Azar says to Tysha while they're recounting their supplies. "Let me check you out."
Tysha bristles and Saw remembers the times when she's muttered the word quack when talking about Azar's medical skills. "I've taken worse."
"Are you sure? You keep rubbing your belly."
"Because there's a tiny person kicking my organs. She really doesn't like bombs."
Azar gives Saw a look as if to say can I get a little help here?
Like the moment with the gunship and the rocket launcher, Saw turns this scene over in his head in later years.
He could have said humor me, Tysha.
He could have said you are seven months pregnant. Just let Azar listen to the baby's heartbeat.
But everything he's heard says that Tysha knows her body best, and she's a good medic. So he just shrugs and goes back to the tasks of setting up a new camp.
…
"Tysha, you're acting weird. Are you okay?"
Tysha shakes her head. "It's just my back. Like Azar said, it was a pretty good hit."
Saw doesn't buy it. "You said the baby's kicking you?"
"She's settled down now that the bombing's over." She brings his hand to her belly as proof. Usually this gesture is enough to bring him a thrill of joy, especially when the little one kicks him. But now there's no time for joy.
"I really think you need to see the medics."
She snorts. "God Saw, I'm not made of porcelain. I've been knocked around harder by Imps or bombs or dalgos. Do you know how much falling off a ruping hurts?"
He nods in defeat. "Okay. But if anything goes wrong, tell Azar right away. And stick close."
"Yes sir," she fires off a mock salute and goes back to her work. Saw follows her example and lumbers off to check the rest of his men,
They're okay, for the most part. A few of them are nursing bumps and bruises, while other count their weapons and coordinate defenses and such in case the Empire decides to -
"Saw!"
Tysha's scream turns Saw's blood to ice. Without thinking he ploughs back through the tents and tears the flap away.
Tysha sits doubled over on the ground, holding her belly with both hands.
"You're right," she says, her face newly wan and sunken in the poor light. "Go get Azar. Something's wrong."
…
She can't walk so he carries her to the med tent and screams at Azar to help them.
"Tysha, tell me what's going on," Azar demands and snaps on a pair of gloves, completely unfazed by Saw's shouting.
Tysha winces. "I'm having bad cramps and they won't stop."
"Might be early labor." Azar takes Tysha's wrist in his hand to get her pulse.
Saw jumps like Azar lit a disruptor beneath him. "She can't be in labor! It's too early."
Azar ignores him and leans back over Tysha. "Has this happened before?"
She shakes her head.
"How did you feel right before you collapsed?"
Tysha groans and turns onto her side and Saw fumbles for her hands, trying to pretend that it's healthy labor which brought them to the Med Bay. Azar presses a stethoscope to her belly and listens. Moves it, and listens.
"What is it?" Saw asks over the knot of dread forming in his stomach.
Since Tysha's in too much pain to speak Azar turns to him. "You saw it better than I did. When she hit the railing this morning did she hit her back, or her belly?"
Saw racks his memory. "It was the side," he says finally. "She hit her belly on the side."
Azar's lips form a swear word and Tysha falls silent.
"Saw, I need you outside."
Saw obeys and grabs the front of his shirt once they're outside. "Is she okay? Is she having the baby?"
Azar pulls himself free. "No, she's not. I didn't hear a heartbeat or anything consistent with contractions through the stethoscope. What I did hear was what sounded like a belly full of blood."
Saw doesn't hear the last part. "No heartbeat? Is she having a miscarriage then?"
"No. I can't tell without scans, but what I think happened is that she hit the wagon railing hard enough to tear the placenta away from her. It's called a placental abruption and if I'm right, then Tysha is in a lot of trouble."
"But you can fix this. You can fix it, right?"
Azar lowers his voice. "The placenta is filled with blood vessels, and if it's torn then the baby isn't getting any oxygen and Tysha's bleeding internally. It's probably too late for the baby, and the only way we could save Tysha is with an emergency hysterectomy."
"Then do it!"
"I don't know how!"
Saw is silenced.
"I don't have the training to do this. She needs a surgeon – not a nurse, not a medical student, a surgeon. And unless you can find one," he closes his eyes. "I can give her pain meds. But that's it."
…
The only doctor Saw knows is Galen Erso, and he isn't even a medical doctor.
There's no way to deliver safely. No way to give Tysha the hysterectomy she needs to save her life.
Instead Saw steels himself and walks into the tent up to her bedside. He takes her hand just like he planned to do when she went into labor.
She clutches his warm hand in her cold one, too weak to give it a bone-crushing squeeze.
"Don't go," she begs. "I don't want to die alone."
"You're brave," he says because he doesn't know what else to say. "You're the bravest person I know."
"I'm not!" Tysha cries. "I'm scared. I thought I was having the baby, not dying!"
You have to be brave to bring a baby into the galaxy, he thinks. Especially my baby.
"Is what Azar said true?" She asks and touches her belly. "Is she already dead?"
More than likely. "I don't know."
"I'm so sorry," she groans and squeezes his hand.
"What for? You didn't do anything wrong."
"I'm sorry you don't get to meet her."
"I'm sorry you don't get to meet her. You're her mother."
"I've had her this whole time." Tysha relaxes her grip. "Azar isn't such a quack, I guess."
"You just rest," he tucks some stray strands of hair behind her ear with his free hand. "You've had a long day."
"Don't leave me."
"I won't."
"Saw?"
"Yeah Tysha?"
"Do you love me?" She swallows. "I know we weren't together, but did you ever love me?"
Of every question she could ask, this is the one that almost sends Saw over the edge.
"Yeah," he says and clears his throat to keep himself from bursting into ugly tears. "I love you."
She asks him to kiss her one last time and he does, leaving tearstains on her cheeks.
They stay that way: one hand resting on her belly, one hand twined with the other until she can't stay awake any longer and slips away, clutching his hand and crying that she's cold, she doesn't want to die, she loves him too.
…
He tries to convince himself that it doesn't matter. That everything he said to her while she died was nothing but pretty lies. That Tysha was just some fling who got pregnant and that he should move on because he didn't love her anyway.
As he sits staring at her body, he realizes it's never going to work. He can't take his eyes off her wide lips, lips that were so warm and alive last night in his bed but now feel like they'll crumble under his touch.
Her sturdy shoulders, her wild black hair, the curve of her chest, the slant of her cheekbones. Saw swallows.
"Bye, Tysha," he forces out and bends to kiss her forehead, her skin cold but still soft, still like it was last night in his tent.
When he pulls back, he freezes.
Without his knowledge, his hand has crept onto Tysha's belly, right where their baby grew.
A lump blocks his throat.
He tries to force himself to say something, but he can't. His throat is too tight, the words sound wrong in his head.
It takes him a while to realize there are no words he can say about this.
So instead, where no one can see him, Saw cries his final tears.
…
Lux flies in the day after, while some of his partisans wash Tysha's body and dress her in clean clothes to be buried.
"Saw," he says during the burial. "I'm sorry about her."
"I know," Saw says bitterly, glaring at the headstone someone carved, bearing Tysha's name with the subheading "and infant".
The other partisans keep sneaking glances at him; it was no secret what he and Tysha did after so many glasses of juma. He knows they know who that baby belonged to.
Lux puts a hand on his shoulder. "If you need anything, all you have to do is ask."
…
"Saw, what are you doing?"
Leave it to Lux to investigate the clinking and scraping sounds in the night, leading him straight to Saw kneeling with a chisel in his hand.
"Is that Tysha's headstone?" Lux answers his own question. "Saw, why are you chiseling at Tysha's headstone?"
"Because it's wrong."
"What's wrong? Her name is spelled right."
"I know what we were going to name that baby."
Lux grabs the flashlight from Saw and moves it to illuminate the partially-done engraving. "Oh, Saw…"
"You're not going to stop me, Bonteri. Even if you take me away now, I'm just going to do it when you leave."
Lux considers.
"At least let me hold the flashlight so you don't break it or something," he concedes. "If you're going to do this, you're going to do it right."
Saw hands him the flashlight and continues chiseling. If one good thing has come out of his disaster of a life, it's Lux Bonteri's friendship.
…
Tysha Salazar
21 years old
And infant
Steela Salazar-Gerrera
…
The week after Tysha dies Saw hires a mercenary. His troops buzz with gossip - this is new and it's not like the Saw they know, the Saw who talks about honor and duty to Onderon at the drop of a hat.
Tysha was like that. She did her duty and treated the wounded; she fought valiantly and with honor, and she died.
But when Saw hands the credits to the Lasat and tells him to kill the newest unit of ISB who dared grace Onderon's surface, he doesn't care. He doesn't care about honor, about duty, about anything but Onderon's freedom.
Maybe then his entire family won't have died in vain.
…
It's three weeks after what would have been Tysha's due date – the day he would hold a baby named Steela, and breathe in her sweet baby scent while arguing with Tysha over whether he was holding her wrong – that Saw gets the call from the Ersos.
(Warning for description of a miscarriage and subsequent death of a pregnant woman)
Also, if you thought the Partisan OCs' names sounded familiar…
Azar's name comes from The Things They Carried, referring to a soldier who uses cruelty as a defense mechanism.
Tysha's name comes from A Song of Ice and Fire, in reference to the first wife of Tyrion Lannister. Their marriage did not end happily, to say the least.
Thank you to Starwarshobbitfics and Guest for your reviews. And speaking of which, please review!
Until next time,
LS