Bothari had spent nearly as much of his life working with children as being a soldier, and he knew nightmare-screaming when he heard it. Reflexes kicked in.
'Anakin,' he said, as he entered the room, not loudly enough to startle General Skywalker awake, but enough for the voice to flow into his dream. 'Anakin Skywalker. It's all right. You're dreaming. No-one's attacking you, not in real life. You're safe. You can wake up now. You're just dreaming. You've been hurt, but you're getting better now. Palpatine can't get at you, he's dead. All your enemies are dead. They're not here. It's safe to wake up here.'
Skywalker shifted in his sleep, sighed, and opened his eyes. They were weary and bloodshot, but at least they were blue rather than yellow – for now, anyway.
Bothari wasn't sure how to go about apologising for what happened earlier. People he had attacked (when he really meant to harm them, not just in sparring practice) were usually either (a) dead or comatose, (b) furious and ready to kill him, or (c) the boss, someone he really wasn't supposed to hit, so he was in trouble and he'd get punished and he'd sulk for a bit and then let it go. None of those situations really fitted here.
When Captain Naismith had turned up on Barrayar after the war – well, he hadn't been able to remember what had even happened in the war, but he knew there was a good chance she was in category (b). But she hadn't seemed angry, just glad to see someone she knew, someone who could tell her where Admiral Vorkosigan was. It wasn't until months later that he had dared ask her what had happened, but it had clearly not been something that made her hate him. And once they'd started to become friends, it had been a bit easier to ask.
Another memory, further back. Near the start of his first tour of duty on the General Vorkraft. Most of his memories from then were a fog – not blank, like where memories had been erased, just confused because he hadn't been thinking clearly. But there were scenes here and there that stood out.
He'd been put on the ship when it arrived in Barrayaran orbit, just after he'd been released from the ImpMil hospital. The same time that demoted-back-to-Captain Vorkosigan had been released from Kyril Island, and Ensign Koudelka had just graduated from the Academy. He'd never found out what Koudelka had done to be sent to the General Vorkraft. Maybe there hadn't been anything. Maybe it was just a test to see if he survived. He very nearly hadn't, because on their first day in space, he had accidentally bumped into Bothari, who had thrown him to the floor and tried to throttle him. And then he'd looked up and seen – Lord Vorkosigan – Admiral Vorrutyer's drunken ex-boyfriend that Vorrutyer considered he still had the right to grope at every opportunity – their new captain, so hungover that he could barely raise his voice above a croak. And then the Political Officer had been there, demanding to know what was going on, and Vorkosigan had frightened him away and told him to keep out of sight if he wanted to survive this trip, actually protected Bothari and Koudelka from him – and then Vorkosigan had been explaining to Koudelka about combat flashbacks and how most experienced soldiers were a bit twitchy and could lash out if you startled them, and then he was ticking them both off – 'Now, your fighting was disgraceful. I don't mean that you got into a fight. It's your technique. It was appalling. I can see that unarmed combat drills are going to have to be a priority,' – obviously not angry or disgusted with them, but being a teacher, like Cheiron, not that he had consciously remembered Cheiron during his waking life – and Bothari had started to realise that this might not be too bad after all. And then Vorkosigan had dismissed him and Koudelka to get on with the water recycling tests, and they'd been friends after that, and never even discussed the fight. Sometimes not discussing things was the quickest way to deal with them.
'Bad dream?' he asked sympathetically. Skywalker nodded. 'I get those, too. We all do.'
'It was – it doesn't matter,' Skywalker tailed off.
'Want a hug?'
'Yes, please.'
Bothari crouched so that his arms were level with the battered, limbless body, and put his arms around Skywalker, taking care not to press on any of his wounds. How long had it been since he had hugged anyone like this? Not since – when Lord Miles was fifteen, that time he'd tried to kill himself after his girlfriend dumped him, and Bothari had needed to restrain the wildly slashing boy and try to get the knife away from him without crushing his fragile bones, until Lord Miles had suddenly exclaimed in horror, 'I cut you!' and dropped the knife and begun sobbing, 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!' as if destroying his own life was nothing, but scratching someone who was trying to protect him was unforgiveable. Bothari had held him closer, restraint melting into cuddling and soothing him, until eventually he had calmed down enough that Bothari could carry him to bed as if he was still a toddler, and long for the days when he still was a toddler and keeping him safe had only been a matter of protecting him from assassination plots and accidents, rather than from his own despair.
'You care for him very deeply,' Skywalker observed.
'Yes. I hope he's all right.' Cheiron had said he survived at least until he was in his forties. He was eighteen by the time Bothari had died, six years older than Bothari had been when he ran away from home, old enough to be a good liegelord to Elena, smart enough to be already an admiral, and Cheiron said he'd made it back to Barrayar afterwards. He'd be fine. Why was that so hard to believe?
'I hope Luke is safe,' Skywalker replied. 'At least he is safer now that I and Emperor Palpatine are dead.'
'He's fine. He made Jedi Master.' Cheiron had explained about the divergent timelines after… no, don't go there, not now. To change the subject, Bothari focused on memories of Lord Miles when he was younger. A camping trip, with Emperor Gregor being an honorary adult for the duration, helping Bothari keep Lord Miles and Lord Ivan and Elena corralled, and solemnly writing up accident reports every time anyone got injured. A visit to an art gallery, with Lord Miles and Lord Ivan running around laughing at paintings of naked people (he had firmly refused to bring his daughter on that trip, no matter how much Lady Vorkosigan insisted that it was educational) and the Emperor looking as embarrassed as only a teenage boy can, trying to give the impression of not being related to his young cousins.
'That tall boy is the Emperor of your world?'
'Since he was four years old.'
'Four? Even on Naboo, they do not allow children under thirteen to be elected Queen.'
'He was Emperor because his grandfather died. His father was already dead, in a war.' Bothari didn't say out loud, 'That's how it works, with real Emperors. There are rules,' but he wasn't at all sorry that Skywalker was doubtless reading the thought straight off his brain. Anyway, the man was fully awake and calm now, so that was the first step.
'Do you need your pad changed?' he asked next.
'No. Not yet.'
'You need to eat more.'
'I have no hunger.'
'A drink, anyway. You need to get used to eating and drinking, so Dr Durona can take the tubes out. We've got milk, fruit juice, soup, chocolate…''Chocolate?' The voice was a whisper of amazement and longing. 'I tasted chocolate – a long time ago. With – Padme.'
'I'll make a mug up. Back soon.' Bothari left, closing the door on his way out. He didn't know whether that would make a difference to Skywalker reading his mind, but maybe being downstairs would help. There were a lot of things he needed to think about, out of earshot.
Author's note: the memory of the first encounter between Konstantine Bothari, Clement Koudelka and Aral Vorkosigan on the General Vorkraft is taken from the short story A New Start by Philomytha, published on Archive Of Our Own at archiveofourown works/31518 .
The memories of the camping trip and the art gallery come from Serious Injury Reports (June 12th-16th) by anstaar archiveofourown works/222763 and A Brief History of Pornography in the Imperial Security Service by a_t_rain archiveofourown works/6769405
