Paneau: capital city of Dalon
Dalon Medical Center
5.4 APC

Four days couldn't have felt any longer.

It wasn't the first time Rech had kept such a lengthy vigil beside someone he cared about, nor was it the longest effort he had made. After finding Koril comatose and close to death almost four years ago when the Huxnel virus had terrorized his systems for months, Rech had remained at his side for weeks, perhaps even a month or two as he recovered. If he was going to keep Mand and the twin girls alive...it was going to require much more than he was capable of, if these first few days were any indication. He wasn't strong enough to carry on with such intensity for much longer.

Though he was well aware how delicate and how personal of an ordeal this was, thankfully others seemed to respect their privacy, as well. The only people in and out of the room had been hospital personnel, nurses and doctors who were also doing what they could to help. Koril and Elena had only stopped by once, but they seemed to be preoccupied about something else entirely. If he was honest with himself, though, he almost preferred it; so much solitary time with Mand afforded him the ability to completely focus on her alone. As he leaned back in his seat, taking a momentary break from a lengthy healing session that had drained him, he glanced up at the window to see Major Jax solemnly looking in. Though exhausted, Rech gave him a small nod, inviting the major inside.

Just over two years ago, Jax's blaster wound to his shoulder had been a particularly difficult test of Rech's skills. In the final confrontation with Koril's former love, Brylie Herrell had landed a blaster bolt dangerously close to Jax's heart. Numerous bacta treatments had repaired his shoulder muscles damaged by the bolt, but they hadn't been able to reconnect the nerves that allowed him to feel or even move his left arm. Rech had to take over Jax's treatment because of its complexity and delicate nature, and over the week-long healing sessions, the two had become closer friends. Since Rech hadn't been back to the Manor after Mand had fallen so ill, he was glad to see another familiar face.

Jax entered softly, even making his footsteps light and almost unnoticeable. He glanced briefly at the monitors around Mand as he stood at her side, but they didn't give him the answer he sought. Looking to Rech with concern, he kept his voice quiet.

"How is she doing?"

Rech took in a slow breath, deciding how best to sum up the past four difficult days. "She's...up and down. She'll be fine for a few hours, then everything has to crash at once. I can't...keep her stable for very long." Though it was almost an afterthought, he continued with faint hope. "But the twins seem to be doing alright, as far as I can tell."

Jax's expression lightened a little. "At least there is that good news, Sir."

Rech nodded, though his own mood didn't improve much. "I just wish there was more I could do for her..."

Quieted for the moment, Jax looked down at Mand, his gaze briefly focusing on her swollen stomach that the blanket laying atop her magnified. He shook his head after a moment, seeming to clear his mind of some distant thought as he looked back up to Rech, his expression earnestly inquisitive. "Is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can bring you?"

Though he appreciated the major's offer, Rech had to decline. "No...I'm alright. The staff here is bringing me meals when I need them." Seeing the look of disappointment on Jax's face, Rech tried to be as gracious as he could, conveying his gratitude in his tone. "Thank you, Major."

Jax nodded in understanding, but he once again became somber, and Rech couldn't help but feel guilty for it. Straightening his posture in his chair, he hinted at a small smile before he spoke.

"How's your little girl?"

Expectedly, Jax smiled broadly at his question. It had been because of Rech's timely intervention that Jax had regained the use of and feeling in his left arm, just in time for him to hold his newborn daughter. Rech had also been on duty when Jax's wife Milowi went into labor, and he helped deliver the girl, placing her in her father's arm that he had healed. That sweet moment had further solidified their friendship, and Rech had been the girl's doctor almost exclusively over the past few years.

"Tavyna? She's doing really well," Jax beamed with pride. "Looking more like her mother every day. Of course," he added with a laugh, "she's also beginning to sound like her, too."

Rech had to laugh softly, as well. "I've noticed. She's definitely picking up on Milowi's aptitude for giving orders."

"Milowi's adamant that Tavy's getting it from me," Jax grinned, shaking his head. "I don't know why she would think that. I haven't given an original order in years. I'm usually just relaying something from High Commander Rys'tihn in one form or another..."

As Jax's expression fell once more, Rech worried the major had suddenly become insecure about his position as the Rys'tihn Manor's security chief. Jax noticed Rech's curiosity, though, and self-consciously corrected the look on his face as if he were intentionally clearing his thoughts. His expression had only changed as he mentioned Koril, leading Rech to believe that perhaps he regretted mentioning his superior because there was a problem he hadn't intended to bring up.

"...is there something else on your mind, Major?"

Glancing at Mand again, Jax remained silent for a long moment as he hesitated to answer. His reluctance concerned Rech even more, deepening his worry until Jax finally spoke.

"I'm not sure that I'm supposed to inform you yet, but given the situation, I think that as their friend, you should know." He paused a moment longer, heightening Rech's anxiety... "The High Commander and his wife...are expecting another child, as well. They were...apprehensive about it, afraid that it might be somewhat insensitive of them to tell you right now."

But Rech could only smile genuinely at the news, nodding. "No, it's good... I'm happy for them. I was worried their relationship was...troubled, but this is good."

Jax agreed. "It was one of the reasons they haven't visited much. They've been distracted with a new guest, as well, but I think this was a little more...emotional for them."

"Don't worry," Rech continued with a friendly grin. "I'll pretend to be surprised when they tell me."

"That would be appreciated."

Sensing that their conversation was drawing to a close, Rech leaned back in his seat again, his fatigue catching up with him once more. Jax understood the cue and nodded, making one last plea.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?" Rech shook his head nearly immediately, but Jax wasn't finished. "Would you like for me to arrange to have Cordira brought up here for a visit?"

An icy pang of fear in his chest dissolved any remaining trace of a grin, forcing him to return his gaze to his wife's nearly lifeless form. "No... I don't want her to see her mother like this."

"Not to see Mand," Jax corrected carefully. "To see you, Sir."

Looking back up at Jax, Rech took in and released a deep breath, considering it for a long moment. He hadn't seen his daughter in four days, and her innocent charm and sweet affection might be the only things that could recharge his waning spirits. He nodded hesitantly, sending Jax off with the task. As much as he didn't want to leave Mand's side, he would for Cordira's sake.

Smoke... The taste of ash, the heat of flames...all over, burning every inch of her body... Her muscles ached intensely with every minute movement, making her gasp in pain the more she came to her senses...

"Deilia, sweetheart, you have to relax..."

The voice was calm and faintly familiar, belonging to an older, soft-spoken Coruscanti woman she hadn't talked to in years...but the burning was getting worse, making her entire body shake -

"It's alright, Deilia, you're safe...but you are very ill, you must relax..."

Cool fingers brushed across her forehead, but the sensation faded quickly as the inferno on her skin continued. Though she felt weak and completely devoid of energy, she had to open her eyes, determine the source of the blaze...

The smoke was gone, and there was no trace of a fire anywhere. She was in a small, modest room with only the bed she was laying on and a chair beside her, low-lit but enough to see that the two of them were its only occupants. The older woman leaning over her had long, graying brown hair that was braided over her shoulder, and her kind hazel eyes, aged but still sharp, were watching her with concern. It was her friendly smile, though, that put Deilia at ease despite her discomfort...

"...Ceyelle?"

Her smile broadened. "I'm flattered you remembered me. It's been a few years since we last spoke. But that's for later; right now, you need to rest, please." Interpreting Deilia's confused look, Ceyelle continued more somberly. "Your wounds on your arm... They became infected, and the infection spread to your blood stream. You've become septic; you are fighting a body-wide infection, and I know this high fever you've spiked can't be pleasant... I have gotten some antibiotics into you, so you will get better, but you must rest."

In her hazy mind, she struggled to make sense of what Ceyelle was telling her...but she became even more concerned when she couldn't remember how she had ended up in Ceyelle's company in the first place.

"...how did you find me?"

Ceyelle hardly contained a laugh. "You practically collapsed on my doorstep, dear. I didn't have to go very far." Her expression fell after a silent moment, though, glancing at Deilia's arm at her side. "Your wounds... They got close enough to injure you, didn't they?"

Yes, her own covert agents had attacked her...but she had been able to outmaneuver them and stay just a step ahead of them for days afterward. She had dressed the gashes on her arm as best she could while on the run, but apparently they had gotten the better of her before she could escape the merciless cityplanet... Looking up to Ceyelle, a Banarecc covert agent herself, Deilia struggled to find her voice again. "You can't shelter me..."

But Ceyelle just smiled kindly again. "It's alright. I told you, you're safe. They can't find you here." A proud, impish grin quickly replaced her smile, though. "I made sure of that."

Deilia didn't want to know what Ceyelle had done to thwart her pursuers, regardless of how much she wanted to brag about it...but she had to know why.

"Why...why are you helping me?"

Again, Ceyelle's expression became more solemn, but the compassion in her eyes was unmistakable. "Because I, more than anyone else...know that look on your face."

A weak laugh caught in the back of her throat. "The look of a lowly exile..."

Ceyelle simply nodded. "Exactly."

Unsure what she meant, Deilia furrowed her brows and remained silent, prompting Ceyelle to continue.

"I know that look...because I wore it myself for a very long time. Thirteen years ago, I had a very different...yet very similar life. You remind me a lot of myself when I was your age."

Deilia struggled to think back that far... Thirteen years, eight years prior to the Dalon Palace collapse... She was only sixteen years old herself, just beginning to take over heavier duties as the Rys'tihn Tyro Ghost Heir. That whole year had been difficult, both in her world and her Known Heirs'. Paneau's Queen Peri, Veon Banarecc's first wife and Jec and Li's mother, had died, causing considerable turmoil among all the Ghost Heirs. Deilia found herself handling even some of the Banarecc covert teams as the Master Ghost Heirs mobilized to exile one of their own...a Banarecc Royal, a woman who would be in her early fifties...

The realization made Deilia gasp as she looked up at Ceyelle, a Banarecc agent she had only worked with and spoken to sparingly, but...how had she failed to make the connection until now? It was presently so obvious to her as she had the chance to more closely examine the older woman's brown hair and hazel eyes...the resemblance was unmistakable.

In her shock, Deilia could barely force enough air from her chest to produce sound. "Veomiin..."

Likely hearing her real, given name for the first time in years, she nodded graciously, her shoulders sagging slightly in relief as if a heavy weight had been lifted from them. She seemed to be thanking Deilia with another kind smile for releasing her secret, but Deilia remained speechless, horrified that she had ignored such a blatant connection.

"I - I'm sorry, I...I didn't - "

But she shook her head to dismiss her regret. "It's alright, Deilia. You were supposed to forget me."

Veomiin had been the Banarecc Master Ghost Heir thirteen years ago when she had been exiled by her peers, replaced by her Tyro, Veolar. Deilia easily remembered the chaotic shuffle in the aftermath of Veomiin's departure, but honestly, she had hardly gotten acquainted with the Banarecc before she had been forced to leave...

"My exile was at my brother's command. Queen Peri's death had been my fault."

Deilia blinked. "I thought she died when her transport accidentally crashed?"

Veomiin shook her head sadly. "No. That was the story we told the Paneau who we knew would deeply mourn the loss of their Queen. But she had actually been poisoned at a dinner with Demmar dignitaries. The dinner's security had been solely my responsibility, and I had everything under control...except for the food." As she paused a moment, her expression saddened even more. "The hardest thing I've had to come to terms with was what we found out later: Peri wasn't even the target...one of the Demmar was. Their plates were switched at some point, and...Peri died within a few hours. There wasn't anything anyone could have done.

"Veon demanded my removal almost immediately, and I was sent away before Peri had even been laid to rest. I came here, altered my appearance and my accent as best I could, and...I waited out the storm." A bittersweet smile flashed across her face, but it was gone almost as soon as it had come. "Veon never did forgive me, and I understand... But I do wish I could have spoken to him, at least one last time, before he died."

Deilia knew that feeling well, having unknowingly sent her father to his death five years ago in the Dalon Palace collapse. She, too, was left without the chance to apologize, but how could she? And if the established punishment for a Known Heir's death was exile, why had saving her brother and her nephew's lives earned her banishment instead of her failure to protect her father three years prior?

Veomiin wouldn't have that answer; only the Ghost Heirs back on Paneau could explain it, but not that they would. There were other questions Deilia had for her, though.

"Thirteen years...is a long time. Hearts change."

Veomiin nodded with a wan smile. "Perhaps. Veon never knew about me, though, what I had become. About six years ago, Veolar contacted me, the first from home to do so since I had left. He needed my expertise, and he eventually expressed to me how much he wanted me back on the force. So I became Ceyelle, a covert agent for the Banareccs, stationed here on Coruscant exclusively. I'm one of the few under his direction who reports to him directly; I operate entirely on my own. It affords me a certain degree of...freedom that I didn't always have before." With a brief pause, she let go of a light sigh. "How fortunate that it also allowed me to be at just the right place at the right time to help you when you needed it most."

Instead of relief, an odd fear quickly took hold of her. "...does Veolar know I'm here?"

"No," Veomiin answered, grinning. "I never said I had to report everything to him. I still have some...tricks I never shared with him."

Finally able to feel more at ease, Deilia closed her eyes a moment and released a slow breath, attempting to gauge how much more time she'd need to recover. No longer feeling its fire, her fever seemed to be rapidly subsiding, and maybe it was already completely gone, thanks to the medication Veomiin had given her earlier. Her energy seemed to be slower to return, though, concerning her. If she was clear of her covert agents, though, did she need to stay on the move as much?

"You look like you're feeling a bit better already," Veomiin continued quietly, and Deilia nodded, looking back up at her.

"I don't think I'll stay much longer."

Gently pressing the back of her hand against Deilia's forehead, Veomiin was quick to protest. "You will get at least another full day's rest, and then...we'll talk some more."

Deilia blinked. "Another day? How long have I been here?"

Glancing up at a chrono on the wall beside them, Veomiin shrugged. "Oh, it's probably been about...a standard day since you blacked out. You're staying here until I say." Her insistence was...sincere, almost motherly, and Deilia didn't have the heart to oppose it. With a careful squeeze of her uninjured arm, Veomiin stood from Deilia's side. "Get some rest. I'll bring you something to eat in a bit."

As Veomiin left, Deilia sighed again, left alone with her thoughts. Though she was curious about what she had missed in the day she had been out, she began digging what she could from her foggy memory of what had happened to her the day before. She remembered feeling a haze descending on her as she walked through a particularly dangerous street, but something led her to believe it hadn't totally been the fault of her infection. It felt as though a singular voice was was trying to...reach her, reach out to her, pull her somewhere, but...was that possible? Or had it all been in her head?

Maybe she had actually been suffering more than she had realized, more delusional with her illness than she had believed herself to be. In either case, she couldn't feel the draw any longer; sleep was calling her instead, and knowing she was safe and comfortable for the time being, she quickly gave in.