Chapter Summary: Lana is stranded on a Zakuulan planet, and has to call Vestra for help. [Three years into five-year timeskip.]
"Next on the agenda…ah. Our ship's prototype cloaking device," Talos read aloud from the conference table's holoterminal. "Empress Acina is expecting a report from our field tests."
"It's shit." Andronikos' distaste was apparent, though his posture was still laidback, one ankle hiked up on his knee while he leaned back in his chair. "Sure, it keeps us invisible and off sensors, but it can't last long. The power draw's insane, all other systems have to operate at minimum to conserve energy. If the ship's detected, it'll get blasted to hell before power can be redistributed to weapons, shields or engines. And the added weight to our engine is throwing off–"
"Put it in a report, Andronikos," Avriss cut in before he could start ranting about the unwelcome installation. Again. "Attach data on its power draw, detail its implications, and recommend that Acina keep her stealth gadgets off interceptors made for war, not espionage."
Andronikos' mouth curled into a lazy smirk, knowing Avriss shared his distaste for the device – though not so much for its function, but that it was practically forced on her in the name of technological advancement. Damn Acina and her persistence.
"Tell the Empress to fuck off, basically?"
"Advise her to improve the cloaking device's specifications," Talos nudged gently. "So that it may be compatible with a standard class of Imperial starships. As it is, the device can only serve a small, dedicated wing of ships made for Intelligence operations."
"Blah blah, it sucks."
"Andronikos, draft the report. Talos, vet it." Avriss stepped in again. Their weekly update meeting aboard the ship had lasted two hours, and she refused to let it drag for another. "Tell the Empress to fuck off – politely – and to kindly leave us out of future 'field tests'. I have neither the time nor patience for such nonsense. Now, the next item."
Avriss referred to her datapad, pacing at the head of the table. The crew bent their heads down towards their own devices as well – save for Khem Val, who would rather rip his eyes out than deal with holomails and paperwork.
"The Diplomatic Service requests a representative from the Adamant brigade for an outreach programme to alien colonies. Joy," Avriss read aloud, devoid of joy. "Ravage may be dead, but his hatred for me lingers among his ranks."
"They may be genuine in trying to build relations with your Sphere, you know," Ashara remarked.
"Genuine diplomacy from the Imperial Diplomatic Service? Perish the thought. Adojer is available, isn't he?" Avriss asked Talos, who consulted the holoterminal, bringing up records with rapid taps.
"Yes, Lord Gifra's just returned from the frontlines. He is currently on Dromund Kaas for some R&R."
"Good. Contact him and arrange–agh!"
Blinding pain flared in her right palm, Avriss' vision going dark as her datapad fell with a clatter. She keeled forward onto the table, landing painfully on her elbows for support, left hand clamped onto the right wrist as a makeshift tourniquet to stop pain from bleeding into her arm. It didn't work.
Talos and Ashara, seated closest to her, reached forward to grasp her shoulders. Avriss allowed herself to be guided backwards into her chair, reining in breaths turned ragged. Resting elbows on knees, Avriss remained hunched over, riding out pain that lightened with each passing second. Trepidation squeezing her heart tight, she forced her eyes to focus on her hand – and found it whole, uncoated by blood. Not…split clean down the middle, flesh torn between the third and fourth knuckle.
"My lord? Are you alright?" Talos asked gently, his hand staying on Avriss' shoulder while Ashara drew back.
His tentative question slid clean past Avriss' mind, while she remained staring at her hand. The pain had struck, quick as a bolt of lightning, and had now faded from where it did not belong. It was not her pain.
Lana.
Her heart sank at the realisation, as her mind shook free of its pain-induced haze. Lana was out there, somewhere, struck by a grievous injury with such speed and trauma that it'd broken her control momentarily, sending a vicious echo to her bond partner. Her dominant hand was wounded; Avriss could only hope that Lana's situation was not life-threatening. At the very least, she found comfort in the fact that the pain had receded – Lana had regained control, and was still alive. Though Avriss knew not where.
"My lord?" Talos shook her shoulder carefully.
This time, Avriss' head jerked up, as if just remembering he was there. She gazed at his worried expression, then looked the crew over. They had all risen from their seats, hovering in case they were needed by their lord. She might've felt touched, if her mind hadn't fled and roosted with someone else, far across the galaxy. Someone whom Avriss could not reach in that moment, without knowing her location.
"Are you in pain?" Talos asked.
Avriss gritted her teeth, un-injured hand closing into a fist. She smothered her frustration before it could lash out, and forced herself to lean back, breaking free of Talos' touch.
"I'm fine," Avriss growled. When no one in the room moved, she snapped, "Sit down! I'm fine!"
So they sat back in their chairs as one. While Avriss drew a breath and expelled it forcefully, Ashara asked, "What was that?"
"Nothing."
"It's…alright if you had a cramp, you know. Happens to all of us."
Andronikos bit his bottom lip, an unsubtle attempt to hide a smile. Avriss scowled, leaning forward to snatch her datapad from the table.
"It's not a bloody cramp. Now, let's finish this damn meeting." Avriss glared at the datapad's screen, recalling where she'd broken off. "I will brief Adojer personally on this matter. Set up a meeting for tomorrow."
"Yes, my lord," Talos said dutifully.
Under the darkening light of the evening sky, a crew of former Zakuulan naval officers returned to their cave hideout, carrying crates and loose equipment they'd scavenged from the crashed wreck of their shuttle. Lana kept to the side of the cave mouth where she stood guard, not paying heed to the bustle as Koth and Len led the crew to deposit their belongings in the cave. Their friendly jibes grew louder as they entered the safety of their makeshift camp, and Lana bit on her tongue to prevent a demand for quiet from slipping out. They were not Imperials, thus not beholden to Sith, and this…was just their way. If anything, it was a good sign of recovering morale, and Lana was inclined to let it be.
Worrying absentmindedly at her wrist, left bare by the ruined glove she'd discarded, Lana stared beyond the forest canopy to distract herself, lost in the horizon lit aglow by the setting sun.
They were on a remote planet near the border of Wild Space, where a Zakuulan surveillance outpost watched for intrusions into the Eternal Empire's territory. Lana had accompanied this deserter crew to the planet, following a lead that Koth had received from an old navy contact – who'd responded to his call for allies, and claimed to know something of the missing Outlander's whereabouts.
This bait was too sweet, she'd known from the start. To feed two purposes where there'd been a desert of information before? Improbable. It was sweet to the point of rot, yet Lana had bitten in regardless, starved and wrung out on a thin string of hope after three years of fruitless searching.
To find herself in a Knight ambush was not a surprise, though she'd cursed herself for not being better prepared. The lone Force user in a crew of rebels, Lana was singled out for elimination from the start. Relentless attacks from all sides had driven her into a corner quickly, and when Lana finally unarmed one Knight's pike, she'd let her guard down in a desperate rush to break free.
She was stopped mid-run by another Knight's pike flurry, then stabbed square in the back of her palm with a vibroknife, by the very same Knight she'd disarmed. The knife was ripped upwards through her knuckles, separating her hand into gruesome halves held together by the base of the palm, and Lana dropped her lightsaber amid blinding pain and panic. She'd recovered her wits quickly enough to witness a blue pike blade slicing clean through her hilt, its dark orange blade dying without dignity.
Pain and fury wound tight in her chest, and exploded through her hands in a torrent of deadly lightning. The two Knights accosting her dropped dead, their smouldering corpses the first of many. Their comrades faltered under Lana's rage, her vicious Force blasts and lightning pushing them back, allowing Koth's crew to fall back to their shuttle and fly them out of the Zakuulan outpost…only for it to crash in the surrounding forest, due to an engine malfunction.
A tiring midnight hike later, they'd found this cave on the upper reaches of a mountain's base, then fell into a heated argument over the shuttle's poor maintenance. Zakuulan voices clamoured over one another, boiling to a heated pitch that rivalled an active volcano, before falling silent under a Sith's death threat.
She might've damaged the thin trust between them, but Lana couldn't find it in herself to care. They needed to get off this planet first, before falling apart over the mission's failures.
"Hey."
Lana didn't bother to look around as Koth came to stand beside her – the only one who dared approach Lana after her display of destructive temper the day before.
"Your hand doing alright?" Koth asked.
Lana closed her wounded hand into a fist, feeling it tremble from the effort, struggling to remain closed. She didn't have to look down; she could feel the raw, red ridge in her palm, pulsing with throbs that ranged from dull to stinging. Her bout of Force healing through the night had been weak, unfocused. She was too spent, too strained to truly knit flesh back together.
"I'm fine," Lana replied curtly.
"I'm sorry," he said again, and it ground on Lana's nerves. "This mess is on me. I'll try to make–"
"What's done is done," Lana cut in. "We need to focus on getting off this planet. Did you find any maps, transceivers?"
"No. Just some rations, spare weapons, tools. Hate to say it, but we're pretty much stranded right now." Koth sighed. "To get some proper equipment, we'll need to raid the outpost."
"Out of the question."
"Yeah." He crossed his arms, staring out as well. "Safe to say the outpost's on high alert, but we still have some time. Standard protocol is to exhaust every option possible before calling in the cavalry."
Koth pointed at the sky, referring to the Eternal Fleet, but Lana doubted they would expend so much effort to catch one band of traitors. Then again, the 'cavalry' might end up being someone else, and Lana had no wish to encounter Knight Tirall either. Not here, not now; Koth and his crew didn't need to know that she was in contact with their most ruthless hunter.
No matter – their priority remained the same: to get away before Zakuul's fist closed around them. They were stranded in the wilds with precious little supplies scrounged from their shuttle. The garrison was the closest and best source of equipment and escape, but Lana doubted they would survive another battle with the Zakuulan Knights, not in this condition.
She looked to the sky, heart landing on one last option. She hated to resort to it, but it was their surest way out of here. Lana hadn't brought her emergency transmitter, but that was not the only way she could contact Vestra.
"I'll call for help."
"From where? With what?" Koth stared at her incredulously. "We don't have the equipment to broadcast anywhere, much less beyond the planet–"
"Just stand guard."
Lana strode into the cave without a backward glance, ignoring Koth's heavy sigh behind her. His crew moved out of her way as she passed, heading for the deepest corner of the cave. Finding a dry spot, she lowered herself into a meditation kneel, facing the cave wall with her back to the crew. She rested both hands on her lap, feeling one throb with sharp pain.
She closed her eyes, called upon the Force, and opened herself to the bond.
"Are you sure your help's coming?"
"Yes."
Koth glanced at her, doubt obvious. His feelings were not unjustified, after three days of waiting. "They got your message, right? Through the Force and…stuff. It worked?"
"Yes." Lana shot him an impatient glance, stopping further questions.
"Right…" Koth scratched at his nape, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose things have been quiet. So long as they don't catch onto us–"
"Boss!"
A booming holler rang from the forest. Koth drew his blaster immediately, and Lana reached down for a lightsaber that would never sit on her belt again. She forced down her frustration, as Len burst through the treeline with three crewmates close behind, sweaty and flustered.
"The Knights! We ran into a search party, they're onto us!"
"Shit," Koth spat. He turned back into the cave, where Tora and two others had dropped their ration packs to the ground. "Grab everything, we gotta run!"
Lana started towards the equipment, but was waved back by Koth, who pointed two fingers at his eyes, then out of the cave.
She nodded and stepped out into the sunlight, offering a passing nod to the returning crew. While the Zakuulan rebels divvied up their supplies to carry, Lana paced at the cave mouth, muscles tensed, reaching out through the Force to sense enemy numbers. Five Force signatures, accompanied by seven non-sensitives. The odds were tilted in the Knights' favour, and Lana saw fatal casualties for the rebels if a miracle did not happen soon.
Len and Koth came up beside her, blasters held at ready, aimed at the point where Len had burst out of the forest.
"No. Just run."
"But–"
"Five Knights are on the way. I'll hold them off."
"Lana, you can't–"
"Don't argue with me, Koth!" Lana snapped. Bushes rustled beneath the tree line, and when golden-yellow armour emerged from the green, Lana gathered the Force about her fists, sending forth a potent blast that knocked the Knights back. "Go, now!"
She didn't wait to watch Koth lead his crew away in a southward sprint; instinct guiding her hands, she unleashed a storm of lightning upon the trees where the Knights were scrambling to their feet. Wood and leaves burst into flames, forcing the entire Zakuulan search party into the open before they were suffocated by smoke. In their distraction, Lana rained more lightning on them, scattering their loose-knit formation until they regained their wits, shooting blaster bolts in her direction.
"Spooky Eyes!" Len roared from a distance, where he'd lingered to lay covering fire on the Knight party with Koth. "Come on!"
Lana ran in the footsteps of her allies, feeling her hand throb painfully – from exertion or stress, she did not know. What she did know, was that she didn't stand a chance against their Zakuulan hunters with empty hands and a diminished command over the Force.
In desperation, she probed through the bond – and nearly stopped running when the replying resonance was surprisingly, beautifully close.
Keeping their connection open as a tracking beacon, Lana ran with Koth and Len along the tree line, catching up to the crew, shooting blaster bolts and lightning over their shoulders to throw their pursuers off. They stayed on the move, not daring to slow down on pain of death, until Lana felt a firm, downward tug in her chest.
Stop.
"Stop! All of you, stop!" Lana barked, and the crew slowed down against raw instinct, if only to stare at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Hold the line! Help is coming."
"Are you sure?" Tora demanded, panting as she dropped the heavy backpack from her shoulders, wiping sweat from her flushed face. "Your help hasn't come for three freakin' days–"
"Just form up, guys," Koth said, audible exhaustion not slowing his loyal crew down as they fell in beside him, forming a firing line. "Lana, you're sure?"
"Even if I'm not, we can't outrun them forever," Lana replied, drawing a tired smirk from Koth.
"True, that." Koth's gaze snapped towards the front. "Eyes up! Knights incoming!"
Sure enough, four Knights armed with blue-bladed pikes and five Zakuulan soldiers with blasters ran into view, eating up the distance with the trained pace of military regulars. Lana was chagrined by their numbers – she'd expected to take down more with her initial Force barrage. Perhaps she was more fatigued than she'd thought.
Nonetheless, she summoned the Force to her command once more, as their hunters closed in. At Koth's order, grenades were thrown first to scatter the Zakuulans, followed by a hail of blaster fire to keep them back. More soldiers went down, but the Knights deflected the bolts with ease, advancing at a steady pace before sending forth a combined Force blast, forcing Koth's crew to dive out of the way.
Formation broken, they flew at the Zakuulan hunters with the will of soldiers already dead, harassing even the Knights with their darting maneuvers and well-aimed blaster shots. Trusting in her proficiency with the Force, Lana inserted herself right into the centre of chaos, drawing much of the Knights' attention to keep them off Koth's crew.
Amid the heated chaos of battle, Lana let go – immersing herself in the Force bond while Vestra reciprocated without hesitation, their hearts beating side by side, a signal that brought Vestra ever closer to her.
Veins pumping adrenaline for two, Lana lost herself in the flow of battle. Blood-forged warrior's instinct guiding her in a nimble dance, she evaded pike blades with ease, and pounced through broken guards to snap joints and wrench one pike from a stumbling Knight. Riding high on her relish of battle, and dimly aware of Vestra's gleeful enjoyment at her pleasure, Lana drew on her old training days at the academy, twirling the pike in tight arcs despite the numbing ache in her wounded hand.
She had thrust the blue blade through one Knight's helmet, when she grew aware of a deep, familiar hum from the air above. A large shadow fell over the clearing they fought in, as an Imperial Fury-class interceptor swept low over them, sending strong gusts that blew even the most firm-footed soldiers staggering back.
As the ship completed its pass over them, Lana noticed three figures leaping off the ship's lowered boarding ramp, silhouetted against the sun's glare. The largest was nearly twice its companions' sizes, wielding a heavy vibroblade two-thirds its height. The other two were in robes that flowed through the air in descent – one wielding a red-bladed dualsaber, while the other had arms thrust up towards the skies. Even as the bright spark of purple gathered about the last figure's hands, sending a cold drop of caution down Lana's spine, she couldn't help the thrill that surged up to coil with Vestra's.
"Fall back! Scatter and take cover, now!"
Most of the crew heard her command, and threw themselves back immediately. Lana bull-rushed Tora and the engineer Ralo, tackling them to the ground. She heard Tora curse, before it was drowned out by the fierce tempest descending upon the battlefield, deafening and blinding even to Lana, whose face was pressed halfway to the ground.
Ears ringing, Lana pushed herself up when the lightning had faded, giving way to Khem Val's deep roar, and the combined hum of dualsaber and vibroblade. She rose to her feet, watching Khem charge at limping Knights without care, severing bodies with mighty blade swings, while Xalek darted about the edges, silencing forever the charred soldiers who'd tried to crawl to freedom. Vestra stood back, content to let her crew finish off stragglers who'd survived her storm, and only turned to Lana when none were left breathing.
"Holy shit," Tora uttered behind Lana, surveying the scorched grounds with the rest of the crew. "We could've used them earlier."
Much earlier, she concurred silently. But as Lana approached Vestra, their bond humming with mutual, intoxicating bloodlust, she was overcome with a desire to pull Vestra in by the collar, and smother her lips for her sweet, accursed timing.
"Lana."
"Avriss," Lana greeted, reading the upward tilt of her chin, the rigidity of her spine. "Thank you."
Avriss tilted her head in silent acknowledgement, while the battered crew gathered slowly around them, uncertain of the human lightning conduit and her alien compatriots. Her red-winged yellow eyes swept over them quickly, calculative and aloof, then rested on Lana.
"Is this all of them?"
"Yes," Lana replied, counting them in her head.
"Good. Let's get to the ship and leave this planet before reinforcements arrive." Avriss plucked her lightsaber hilt from her belt, offering it to Lana – who stared for a split second. So she'd noticed the absence of Lana's weapon. Sharp.
Lana had half a mind to turn it down; she had managed so far without a lightsaber, after all. But this was a concession, given only to one in the entire galaxy, and Lana accepted the curved hilt without a word.
This was her second time holding Avriss' lightsaber, and it wasn't any easier than the first. A lifetime's worth of anguish and rage condensed into an heirloom already steeped with bloody history – leaden weight that threatened to drown the weak-willed who dared hold it. But her connection with Vestra lightened the burden, and she found satisfaction in wielding a weapon she was versed in.
Discarding her stolen pike, Lana caught Koth's affirmative glance, and nodded at Avriss – who led the crew on a steady march towards the ship parked in the shadow of the mountain, shielding it from the outpost's view. Talos and Ashara stood guard by the ship's ramp, smiling at Lana as she walked past them.
Entering familiar confines of the ship, tension that had wound Lana's shoulders tight for days evaporated. She let loose a soft breath, staying close to Avriss and the security of her presence.
After months of travelling alone and with tentative allies, Lana was finally, truly safe.
Avriss stood on the bridge with a firm hold on the captain's chair, as Andronikos' hands flew across the navigator's console, cloaking the ship with its prototype stealth module before coaxing it from the ground. She did not move, staying wary of alarms until the ship had broken free of the planet's atmosphere, its invisibility field failing with a brief flare when they were safe in the void of space.
"Another observation for the report," Avriss noted drily, strolling out of the bridge. "Stealth and atmospheres don't mix."
"I am loving this," Andronikos drawled, launching them smoothly into hyperspace.
Avriss entered the common area, where Lana stood with her Zakuulan stragglers, who looked lost and ragged from their time planetside. A man dressed in a forest green-and-brown coat moved forward, extending a hand towards her.
"Name's Koth Vortena." He spoke while looking her straight in the eye – a frank audacity only Zakuulans carried. It would've impressed her, if it was not borne of naiveté. "That's my crew you saved back there. You have my thanks."
Avriss regarded the proffered hand coolly, but kept her own clasped behind her back. After a bout of uncomfortable silence, Koth let his hand fall, casting an uncertain look at Lana.
"Listen up," Avriss spoke, sharp as the crack of a whip, as she addressed the Zakuulans gathered before her. "You are on a vessel belonging to the Sith Empire. All areas of this ship are off-limits, save for the medical bay, refresher, and this common area. Anyone found straying where they do not belong, will be executed. Understood?"
Deathly silence followed her last word, no one in Koth's group moving a muscle under her piercing glare. Her own crew, however, didn't hesitate to move; Ashara pulled a judgemental expression behind the Zakuulan's backs, while Lana merely folded her arms, accustomed to Avriss' harsh disposition.
"You are here as…'guests', but none will know of this. You were never on this ship. If word leaks of this voyage, the loose tongue shall be mine." The Zakuulans' continued silence was answer enough, and Avriss turned to Lana. "Do you have a destination in mind?"
"Yes – a shadowport called Asylum. Koth has the coordinates."
"Great," Andronikos chimed in, from where he stood leaning against the bridge's entryway. "Come on over, Koth. I'll plot a course for ya."
Koth's stiff expression relaxed noticeably, as he followed Andronikos onto the bridge. Talos and Ashara stepped forward, inviting the rebel crew to make themselves comfortable while they were checked over for wounds, and took stock of their supplies. Xalek examined the Zakuulan cargo, while Khem Val stood to the side, staring at their guests warily.
Amid the motion that broke the tense atmosphere she had created, Avriss moved towards Lana, setting a hand on the small of her back. They shared a glance, and broke away from the crowd, slipping into the conference room.
"You could've been less…harsh," Lana said when the door had slid shut behind them.
Vestra scoffed, strolling down the length of the conference table. "If you want a warm welcoming committee, contact the Diplomatic Corps."
"I am no longer a citizen, remember?"
"Then, alas, I am all you have," Vestra declared airily, turning around with a dramatic swish of her robes, arms raised as if to display herself.
Lana sighed, and Vestra bit down a smile at her exasperation. "They are reliable…such as they are."
"They are stragglers. Whether they survive long enough to be of use, remains to be seen."
"Stop being so difficult."
"But it's part of my charm." Vestra smirked, continuing to walk backwards to reach the head of the table. "And, speaking of 'difficult' – you didn't use the transmitter I gave you."
"I didn't have it on me."
"Why not?"
"I was heading into enemy territory," Lana explained, her posture turning stiff under questioning. "If I were captured, I wouldn't want them to use it and lure you into a trap."
"A trap I would've willingly walked into."
A sigh. "Ves, you don't know–"
"I gave it to you so that you can contact me when you're in trouble. You should keep it on you at all times.'
"I am not going to call on you for every bit of trouble I get into–"
"What is the point of giving you an emergency transmitter if you're not going to use it in an emergency!"
"Ves!" Lana exploded, then caught herself, reining in her frayed temper. "Can we just–, not do this? Not now."
"Fine." Vestra wrestled down a surge of guilt, noting how pale and drained Lana looked under the room's stark artificial lights. Pulling out two chairs at the head of the table, Vestra gestured at one. "Sit."
Lana stared at her, displeasure still apparent. But she moved forward, sitting down with Vestra by the table. When Lana had settled in her chair, Vestra clutched at the armrests, pulling her close enough to slot their knees together.
Gently, Vestra took Lana's right hand, cradling it in her palm as she examined the half-healed wound on the back of her hand – a thick, neat cut that started midway in her palm, and exited neatly between the knuckles. The hastily-knitted flesh still wept red, and she had no doubt it pained Lana to no end.
"I felt this," Vestra murmured, turning the hand over, tracing her fingertips softly over the swollen red ridge. "What happened?"
"Knight ambush. One pulled a knife on me, after I disarmed him."
"Is he dead?"
"Yes."
"And your lightsaber?"
"Broken. It's gone."
"We have parts on the ship," Vestra said offhandedly. The weapon was a minor concern beside her love's wound, which she traced and retraced, as if etching it into her mind. A failure. Her failure, for not being where she was needed most.
Running her fingers once more from palm to knuckle, Vestra noted how Lana's fingers twitched in response. "It hurts."
"Yes."
"Did you apply kolto?"
"Yes, but…perhaps too long after the fact." Lana curled her fingers into a fist, and Vestra watched it tremble visibly from effort. She slipped her own fingers within and uncurled Lana's, relieving her of the effort. "The damage feels…deep."
"What about Force healing?"
"I tried, but…I couldn't focus. I'm spent," Lana admitted, almost under her breath.
"I know." Vestra whispered, folding the wounded hand between both her own. "I'll get Ashara. She'll have it–"
"Why don't you heal it?"
Vestra frowned, incredulity bashing its way to the forefront of her gentle expression. "You know very well that healing is not my forte." She considered, then added, "It is my downfall, in fact."
"Yes, and I'll not have it be so any longer." The exhaustion was clear in Lana's eyes, and Vestra ached when her love found it in herself to smile. "Try it."
"I've tried it many times before–"
"Under Ashara's guidance," Lana cut her excuse short. "You've been approaching it like a Jedi. Now, do it as a Sith."
When Vestra cocked her head quizzically, Lana continued, "Do you like the fact that I'm injured?"
"Of course not."
"Do you hate that I'm in pain?"
"Yes."
"Good. So take it from me."
Vestra stared at her dubiously, but it didn't deter Lana from nodding at her own palm. Pushing down dread at her imminent self-embarrassment, Vestra attuned herself to the Force that flowed through Lana's being, eyes falling shut. Lana pried their bond a little wider, and Vestra took the hint, tapping into Lana's stream of consciousness.
She felt the physicality of her partner in full, as if it were an extension of her own, and easily identified the wound in Lana's palm. It was a ragged gash in the fabric of the Force, welling and choked with pain where it was left half-healed. Vestra ran her mind along the length of the wound, akin to the way she'd caressed it with her fingertips, and mapped out every millimetre of the cut in her mind's eye. The source of Lana's pain. Pain that she shouldn't have to bear, that gave Lana a deeply-hidden fear that she would never move her hand quite the same again.
Vestra latched onto that fear, feeling Lana recoil reflexively at the recognition, then force herself to relax.
Lana's fear would not come to pass; so long as Vestra willed it, it would not be so.
Gathering the Force within the torn halves of Lana's hand, Vestra wove a thread between the fissure's edges, and pulled the flesh back together; purging the wound through sheer force of will, undoing the damage with the firmness of one re-breaking bone to let it mend correctly.
When the hand was whole once more, Vestra slowly emerged from the trance-like focus, feeling the warmth of her hands enclosing Lana's…and the tight grip on her fingers. She looked up, and caught the last vestiges of a pained grimace on Lana's face. Heart leaping to her throat at the sight, she clasped Lana's hand to her chest.
"Did it hurt?"
"Yes." Lana sounded amused, if a touch breathless. "You did it in true Sith fashion."
"I'm sorry. I don't know how to heal like you do."
"It takes…nuance. And practice, of course." Lana smiled, cupping Vestra's cheek with her healed hand. "But you did it. I'm proud of you."
Vestra's heart skipped a beat, and she returned her love's smile. Angling her head down, she pressed a kiss to Lana's palm, where a thin, pinkish-red scar remained of the wound that had festered too long. She kissed up its length, apology and reassurance written on warm skin by soft lips.
"I should've been with you," Vestra murmured.
"No. None of that." Lana cupped her chin, tilting her head up so their eyes met. "We do what we need to."
"Lana, I want t–"
"No." Lana silenced her with a thumb over her lips. "I chose this path. And I accept all that comes with it."
"I will walk it with you."
A wan smile. "In time, my love," Lana whispered, pulling her close for a kiss, in tender reassurance. "Until then, all I ask is your patience."
Her heart rebelled at the request – one asked of her countless times before, one she had obeyed despite her own protests. Yet she was torn, between what her own heart wanted, and what Lana wished.
And her heart, fool that it was, would give anything that Lana wished.
She gazed deep into golden eyes, reading their quiet plea, and let her own fall shut in acquiescence. Vestra leaned forward, resting their heads together, fingers entwined.
"I'm yours, heart of mine."
A/N: Because I love over-analysing details - this is an attempt to give background for the metal bracer on Lana's right wrist and the armoured glove (which seems to have articulated joints?), and why she was so easily disarmed in the Endless Swamp (other than introducing Valkorion's powers to the PC).
Headcanon that Lana, due to late and inadequate healing, still experiences a dull pain in her right hand from time to time. Usually from overexertion, but it can happen at any moment. The armoured glove is there as a 'brace', so to speak - to help her along when she loses some grip strength in her hand. Also her wrist device will transmit her coordinates to Ves when a specific passcode is keyed in. Just to get Ves to shut up about it.