The dreams were frequent.

They were all the company he had in this…void he was in. He was lost, adrift somewhere between waking and sleep. A part of him wanted to give up, welcome the strange darkness that promised him eternal peace – after all, he'd done enough hadn't he? But something beckoned him to stay, someone who had healed the scars that seemed to trace a painful path of fire across his body. Someone who held his shattered mind together, someone who told him to breathe, to live. So, he stayed, holding on to life. He did not know who it was. He had nary a recollection of them.

All he remembered was fire. The choking and acrid smell of smoke, the sharp spray of shrapnel and the world around him engulfed in scorching flames. Through the haze of sheer agony that seemed to overwhelm his every sense he felt something, no – someone, filled with hope, light and even compassion. It had been a while since someone had felt this way about him. How odd. All he saw through the haze were storm grey eyes brimming with grief and indecision. The rest was a blur.

He jerked awake from his most recent replay of the same dream – nightmare, really. Instinct forced him to try and sit up but he found that his hands had been bound and that in his current state it was impossible to free himself. The white lights in the room he was in were harsh, blinding him. He blinked and black spots danced in his vision and thought he saw the blurred form of another person in the room. Perhaps someone slender, shorter than he was, with golden, beige robes and auburn hair. But before he could ascertain whether they were real or a mere figment of his imagination, the blackness pulled him back in, swallowing his thoughts.

This time, his return to consciousness had been less…violent. Awareness seeped into his mind slowly and he took stock of his surroundings. He was on a medibed, he could feel the scratchy sheets beneath him and he could see that there were machines around him. He recognised a electroencephaloscan, and he vaguely remembered it was used to scan a patient's brain. The equipment beeped steadily and he realised they had been used to monitor him. The screen of a life support computer displayed his vital signs. The thick scent of kolto lingered in the air.

Blinking back the dizziness that was likely a lingering effect of the sedatives he'd been given, he saw another person in the room – an elderly Togruta. Not the odd form he thought he'd seen. Perhaps that person had not been real. The Togruta woman gave him a wan smile and sat beside his bed on a chair.

"Can you tell me your name, young man?" She asked quietly.

He blinked in response. Shouldn't it be on his file?

"Ariv. Ariv Drayen." He said, mouth dry. Something pressed into his mind and told him it wasn't quite correct. He shook his head. What is wrong with me? He couldn't help but think for the hundredth time.

"What can you tell me about yourself?" The woman said, odd relief on her face bleeding through the facade. It was gone in a quick second, replaced by the cool, comforting mask of a typical medic. Avner felt an odd prodding at the back of his mind, like someone had reached into his head but it was gone as soon as he'd felt it.

Brows furrowed, he replied slowly, "I'm from the planet of Deralia. I was a scout until a few years ago before I was transferred to the Republic Navy." The words felt wrong, manufactured and as though he was merely parroting the words that had been drilled into his head. The conergin must really be doing a number on him if thought of all this.

"Very good." The Togruta said, "Do you remember how you got here?" She asked.

Ariv opened his mouth to answer but found that he had nothing to say. "I – I don't know." He confessed, closing his eyes at how utterly helpless he felt.

"Do not fret," The older lady said assuringly. "It is normal for you to have such amnesia after what you went through."

"What did I go through? Where am I? Who are you?" He asked before he could think better of it. And honestly, he did want to know the answers to these questions.

The woman smiled again, this time more cheerfully and answered, "My name is Anahsta Nairos. I am a Jedi Master and a healer." Ariv couldn't contain his shock at that. Why the hell would a Jedi Master of all people be his medic?

Before he could ask her any more questions, the Togruta – Master Nairos, continued, "You are in the medical ward of the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine. You were brought here after a horrific accident. Unfortunately, all your fellow troops were killed. You are the only survivor."

Oh. He did not remember this at all. Perhaps it was connected to the nightmares he had. He wanted to tell her about them but he wisely kept his mouth shut, feeling that it would be the wrong thing to say. "What accident?" He asked instead.

"You and your squad were assigned a task to get rid of some gangsters that had been terrorising the locals. The details are unclear, but something went very wrong and everyone except you ended up dead." She explained, pausing for a moment to let what he had heard sink in. "One of the Jedi found you, barely alive, and brought you to the Enclave, knowing that we could heal you. That was eight weeks ago."

Eight weeks had passed while he was in a coma? He did not know what to say and opted for, "Did we– did we at least complete our mission?"

"Yes, somehow your squad managed to complete your mission." She replied evenly. But something about this whole conversation struck Ariv as very bizarre. What she said seemed like she was recounting events that had been instructed to tell. He felt confused, pulled every which way. What the fuck, Ariv thinks, shaking his head.

"Is everything alright?" Master Nairos asked him, genuinely concerned.

"I don't know." He answered honestly. "I can barely remember anything. It feels…weird."

"It's alright." She reiterated, "I told you, this is normal. Soon you'll be fine. We'll keep you under observation for the time being and if everything is proper then we shall have you return to your duty. Do not worry too much, it will make things worse. You must rest now."

Ariv only nodded in response. He tried to accept the Jedi's words, he really did, but he couldn't shake the strange feeling that conversation left in his mind. But there was not much he could do anymore because he felt the pinch of a needle penetrating his skin and darkness enveloped him again.

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a/n: hello everyone! this is my first work here and in this fandom. please be kind, english is not my first language, nor is writing my major. any feedback is appreciated. (i have also posted this on ao3 under the same name)