Ask Post-Crisis: Doctor's Choice

Dr Ilana Morata

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She hadn't slept much since the assault on the Ranger HQ. Her burned arm had been treated minimally, with bacta bandages wrapped tightly and her arm immobilized. For once she had to be the dutiful patient. She didn't enjoy it at all, but didn't have enough in her to protest. Her head felt heavy, her eyes dry as she sat on the horribly uncomfortable chair nearest the bed, arms pillowing beneath her head as she rested it on the bed by his side.

It was the closest she could be without immediately touching, after all.

He had several people coming in and out, including the other female Ranger, Bast. For a moment, Ilana felt a bout of sickened jealousy; but then there was a resigned acceptance. Of course he earned the love of others... he was the sort of man that inspired goodness. However, she could hardly look at his face now without feeling a sick well of self-blame in the pit of her stomach. If only she had been there faster, actually gone with him when they were en route to Coruscant rather than offering to meet up later, if only, if only...

This litany of endless blame circled with the pain throbbing up her arm from the lightning. She refused to have painkillers; they dulled her empathic sense, and she had to keep her senses sharp whenever he would wake up. She would have to make a choice now, sooner or later, for his safety. She only hoped it was the right decision to choose, for both their sakes. She felt... an odd sensation in the back of her throat and in her chest just thinking about it, about the repercussions of that choice. He had a right to know, as well.

She could feel her eyes getting heavy, the price of nerves and a silent vigilance. She just had to wait, bide her time. There were so many things to talk about.

"Come back to me," she murmured once, quietly, before eyes slipped shut and she felt herself begin to drift. It had already been too long... how much longer until he would wake?

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Corran Velt

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Beep.

Beep.

Is that... a sound?

Beep.

Beep.

Darkness. For so long it had been nothing but darkness. Time had become irrelevant. It was like sleeping - being aware of your unconsciousness but unable to think. Was this death?

Beep.

Beep.

That beeping. It was slow and rhythmic. Methodical. Familiar. Irritating. Why wouldn't it stop? Corran weakly squeezed his eye lids in irritation. Wait. Eye lids? It was in this moment that he became aware of that part of his body. A physical manifestation yet remained. From the epicenter of his eyes, Corran slowly became aware of other parts of his body. His ears which heard the beeping. His nose which barely inhaled air. Next came his mouth. It felt arid. Dry as Tatooine. The throat was equally parched.

Beep. Beep.

Fingers. Corran could feel his fingers. They felt as heavy as a star cruiser. Beneath his fingertips was a synthetic fabric. Something outside his being. But.... how? Was he... alive?

Beep. Beep.

If there was even a chance he was alive, Corran would fight for it with every last atom of his being. That endurable drive sparked to life in his chest. All of his limbs, save the fingers on his right hand, had not yet materialized in his mental space. They remained invisible. He tried to move his fingers. His index twitched faintly. Doing such a little thing exhausted him immediately. But the Ranger would not allow himself to drift back into the darkness. He had to wake. Eyelids. Those shutters to the world; they needed to be raised. They were so heavy. Metric tons weighed them down. With all the mental will he could gather, Corran forced his right eye to open. Peering through the smallest slit, obscured by lashes, a blue and white smudge greeted him. It was so... so... bright. Seeing something beyond the darkness gave his body strength. A vigor it had lacked. His one eye opened just a bit further.

Someone. There was someone there. It was a crude blur of a person; vague in shape but humanoid. His eyelid felt heavy. It wanted to blink so badly. It was too risky. A blink could send the young man back to the abyss. He needed help. Someone who could help him. Keeping his eye barely open, Corran focused his efforts on trying to speak. Everything about his throat felt like aged stone. With what felt like super-human effort, his lips subtly parted only in the middle. Nothing came out. He tried again. An inaudible grunt. A name. He had to call for help. A name he could say with what effort he could muster. A name that would know what to do. A name that wouldn't go away.

"La...na..." The rasp of a survivor.

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Dr Ilana Morata

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The thin, dreamless sleep of the vigilant took hold on Ilana, the only kind medical professionals took on when there was no chance for real sleep. So with the slightest shift, the softest sound, a sharp-edged clarity of awakeness instantly sparked to life, and she lifted her head, looking straight at him. There was almost... almost no change. Had she dreamed it?

And then the thinnest slit of sky blue eyes seemed to look out at her, and a thin, shallow breath was quickly inhaled before she stiffly rose, wincing at the movement.

Her right arm still remained bandaged and immobilized against her, but she reached out with her left hand, lightly touching his cheek. There it was.. subdued, but emotions were flaring to life for him. Relief made her hand shake slightly, and a slight smile touch her lips.
"Hey cowboy," she rasped quietly in response, checking his vitals with a light touch, yet still touching.

There were dark circles under her eyes, and though she showered regularly and made sure she at least looked presentable, she hadn't bothered with dressing to her own usual standard. She knew that, medically speaking, there was no need to be extremely worried, and yet the gnawing pit in the base of her stomach wouldn't go away. He no doubt was starving or thirsty, but she wouldn't leave just yet.

"Can someone bring some water, please?" she called out, but then glanced towards Corran once more, amber eyes softening ever so slightly. "Welcome back," she murmured, giving his hand a light squeeze.

"We have so much to talk about."

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The humanoid blur shifted. They had heard him, thank the stars. They rose from their spot nearby drew near. A cold feeling pressed against his cheek. The touch was light, delicate, familiar. They said something. Corran couldn’t quite make it out. Their voice was muffled, like he was underwater. Only the beeping sounded crisp. Two icicles pressed against his neck and the wrist that felt connected to his body. These sensations caused a reaction within the wounded man’s biological processes. External stimuli seemed to have caused more parts of the body to check in. His brain became aware of his entire right arm, not just the hand and fingers. His mouth began to feel whole. Sounds were becoming clearer as his ears returned to the fold.

Every new thing felt so stiff. Like breaking from free from granite. Whoever was nearby turned away, saying something loudly. Only a few words were understood. Bring and please. Survival instinct, without strength to move or ability to rely on sound, begged Corran to clear his vision. For the first time, he weakly blinked with one eye. Reopening it was easier this time. Weighty, but endurable. The blur was now a person. A woman. White, like the vague floor and walls. Could… it be? They said something else. A welcome. A chilly hand gave his own a squeeze. It… it must be. He blinked again. Everything in the background remained clouded, but his vision focused on the person nearest to him. Sharp details were dull but there was no mistaking it.

"We have so much to talk about."

Ilana.

She had come for him.

Not fully registering her question, a single blue eye scanned the Arkanian woman in disbelief. How? Had she been there the whole time? Where was here? Then he noticed it. The wounded man’s gaze settled on her bandaged arm. It was immobilized against her. To the uneducated, it looked rather serious. Foggy memories began to filter back. He… had been hit. This was a… hospital? The single eye looked down at the blankets that covered him. He couldn’t feel his legs right now. The left side of his face, with feeling returning, felt unnatural. Disrupted. Corran wanted to reach up and touch it, but the only hand he could control was being held by the only other person in the room. He was so weak that it might as well have been in carbonite.

The blue eye slowly swiveled back to Ilana’s bandaged arm, then to her face. There was a fear in it. A worry. But also resignation. A defeat. They were both hurt and he knew nothing. “Il…ana,” the wounded man rasped dryly, his words trembling, “Is it… bad?”

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Dr Ilana Morata

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Confusion, concern, surprise. Disbelief. All of it filtered in the space between them, and she paused, searching his face as the question registered. Did he mean himself... or her? Giving his hand a light squeeze again, she forced herself to smile slightly, though it felt unnatural to even try.
"Well, you'll still be handsome, " she attempted to joke, then sighed.

Shifting so she perched on the edge of the bed to meet his gaze, the smile dropped, and she swallowed.
"I'm alright," she spoke quietly, but yet even in his state he would sense the lie she gave. But why?

To not let him worry. Give him a chance to recover, get his bearings. No doubt, the more aware he'd become, the more questions he would have. She'd give him time to gain his strength, to be there.

She drank him in, amber eyes scanning in concern. Something had changed, but just yet was yet to be talked about. Even now, even after everything, she still felt a ridiculous relief at seeing him conscious, affection, and yet... she hesitated. Something was still pressing in the back of her thoughts, a light touch to his other, bandaged cheek.
"How are you feeling, cowboy?" Her tone was gentle, concerned. In her mind, nothing else mattered in the galaxy but him. She could feel the tension leave her as he seemed to gain consciousness, but in its place lay a well of exhaustion.

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Corran Velt

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A gentle squeeze of his hand felt reassuring, even if it wasn't intended that way. If the medical news was bad, she would have told him outright or kept her peace. A weak smile and a joke confirmed his condition to be better than he felt. At her quip, Corran wanted to laugh but his lungs and chest were too fatigued. Only a gentle huff in amusement escaped his parched lips. A tiny, frail smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth before vanishing. On her own condition, the Arkanian doctor was much less enthusiastic. Although he couldn't see her body language clearly, the young man knew a mistruth from her when he heard one. To express his own support, the wounded man tried to squeeze Ilana's hand back. He mustered all his gathering strength and still only managed to pressed his index finger and thumb together. That would have to do.

Golden eyes looked scanned him. Corran could only look bad from a solitary half-lidded stare. Much of the room was coming into focus now as his senses returned to the realm of the living. It wasn't all such a blur, but he kept his gaze directed at the woman who sat on his bed. She brushed a white hand against his other cheek. The one that felt disrupted. A feeling of bandage fabric pressed against his face lightly. So, he had taken a wound to the head. All he could recall was pain. So much unending pain. Other memories would resurface with time. Ilana gently asked on his condition. No, it wasn't that methodical. How he felt. The blond youth tried to smile but only could muster an exhausted smirk. "I'm... good, considering... I thought I died." His voice was low and gruff, but the ability to speak was clearly coming back.

He swallowed hard, which forced a singular cough. The blond youth groaned with some annoyance. How he hated recovery. The feeling of helplessness was often worse than the pain. Still... a beautiful woman who cared was here. Embers of affection smoldered in his chest at her being here. Maybe even the first to visit. Others might c-- Wait. The others. Corran's eye flared with realization. There were others who were with him on Coruscant. "Others," he rasped, "Are they... alright?" The room was empty besides them. Surely the hospitals were loaded with wounded and injured. Unless he was the first one in... or last one out. The single sky-blue eye furrowed the brow above it. A serious look overcame half of the wounded Ranger's face. "What... happened?"

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Dr Ilana Morata

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A faint huff of laughter, a small smirk. The lightest pressure on her hand. All these subtle signs sparked to feeling a warmth that trembled in her chest; the other, bandaged hand tightened ever so slightly against her chest, and a slow, soft exhale slid past her lips. He was making it, pulling through bit by bit. Relief dropped the tight line of her shoulders, and a faint, warm smile touched her lips. Another smirk rose on his face, but her own smile dropped at his first rasped words.

"Wouldn't let you go that easily," she answered softly, a hint of sorrow touching the faint smile that threatened to touch the corners of her lips. "You want to get rid of me, you'll have to try harder than that."

At the cough, she turned away, releasing his hand. Someone else moved into the room; a nurse. She merely stared for a second at Ilana, then the Ranger, and merely rose a brow before leaving behind the pitcher and glass and parting from the room. She got up, but she felt the spike of anxiety as he recalled others. Suddenly, her spine stiffened ever so slightly.

All of those women, just standing there over him. She swallowed hard once, then slowly, carefully poured water into the cup, mindful to not let her hand tremble. Slowly, the pitcher was set down, and the glass brought back. He had to be thirsty; stuka cheskar could do that occasionally to its' users. She set the glass down on a side table before gazing at him levelly, features calm.

"You were the only one that seemed critical in the hallway," she remarked quietly. "Trini has sustained some cuts and mild electrical damage from the Sith; Ranger Falynn and the Jedi woman made it out as well, and Ranger Emblai was unharmed." She hesitated, but didn't break eye contact. Her lips parted, but she hesitated, then exhaled, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "Ranger Bast was in here, visiting you several times..." she commented quietly, then slowly lowered her hand, staring down at him. "I felt... how she did. How much you meant to her."

There was no blame in her eyes, no anger. But a tired acceptance. Amber eyes seemed drained, white brows dented.
"I want to ask... but I don't think I have a right to know, and this might be a bad time, but... What is she... to you?" she finally managed to ask, but her gaze met his firmly, calmly. No matter what the answer... she would brace herself for whatever answer came her way. She had to.

If it was the answer she thought it was... she would have to learn to accept it as it was. But she shouldn't assume... and soon, she would have to tell her decision to him. A pit settled in the base of her stomach, chasing the warmth in her chest away as she waited for his answer, features impassive but amber eyes with a faint, dim warmth still to encourage him.


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Corran Velt

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In his dizzy state, Corran could still detect some changes in the woman who sat by his bedside. She had released her grasp on his hand and stood up. A small space that felt like a chasm. Mercifully, a nurse had brought in life-giving water and the off-duty doctor poured him a cup. The wounded man reached out with his right hand and gripped the glass securely. It might have been made of lead it felt so weighty. He surprised himself by lifting it with some concerted effort, drawing it close to his chest. By now, the left arm had regained some measure of consciousness and it weakly supported the bottom of the drink.

With calm, amber eyes, Ilana began to fill in the gaps in the Ranger’s memory. A pang of guilt formed in his chest about being the only one critically injured. His first encounter with the most wanted criminals in the galaxy and he utterly failed. An embarrassment. Others had been injured for his weakness too. Trini, the little Amaran, had been sliced and shocked. A single blue eye glanced to Ilana's injured arm. More of the same. Why hadn't he been strong enough? Others paid the price for his failure and that burned worse than the injury the Sith woman had given him. Corran exhaled slowly out of his nostrils in relief at the rest. Falynn and Bast had survived uninjured. So they were there. It hadn't all been delirium. They had come for him... those two were priceless in the male Ranger's heart. All they had been through and they still risked life and limb to help him.

A hesitation on the Arkanian's part refocused the young man's attention. Golden eyes stared at him. She was wrestling with something. It soon became clear. Bast Emblai. She had come to see him several times. That was to be expected - she always came to check on his health when he was wounded. This was only one of two times. Though a seriousness exuded from Ilana and it became apparent why. The empath had sensed Bast's emotions. A blond eyebrow twitched; a subtle indication of surprise. There wasn't energy for much else. Then came the question that it was all leading up to and he saw it coming like a train in a dark tunnel. What was Bast Emblai to him?

He didn't answer at first. Cautious hands raised the cup of water to his lips and tilted it back. Nothing in the known universe tasted as refreshing. His throat stung from the liquid going down, but he knew his body needed it and it would give him the ability so peak. Still, as he quenched his thirst, Ilana would sense a swelling of emotions in him. Complicated, messy things. Confusion, uncertainty, affection, trust, fear; all of these and more. Finally, the glass gently rested on the blond youth's lap. He forced his singular eye to meet her amber stare.

“She’s a… partner.” From the seriousness in his voice, it was clear the Ranger meant in the professional sense. While others might consider that title callous or empty, Ilana would know better. Corran carried much of his pride and self-image in his duty and considering someone an equal partner in that effort was a serious statement. The vortex of complicated emotions began to drain from him. Emotions were drug by chains deeper and deeper into the young man's heart before being sealed behind a massive vault door. The locks sealed shut. For possibly the first time, the empathic woman would detect no emotion within the man before her. The reason was obvious enough to parse out. He didn't know what Bast was to him but it didn't matter - they were both Rangers and that was their lot in life. Duty was first and only.

The tired, purple bags under Corran's eye looked more pronounced all of a sudden. Like even grappling with the question sucked the life from him. "I can't hide things from you." His voice was low, but clear. Steadfast, but fatigued. "Ask me anything. I owe you that much." It was supposed to sound reassuring; that Ilana shouldn't feel regrets for seeking the truth. The Arkanian and the Ranger were close. Intertwined. Yet the way he talked felt rough, perhaps burdened. But he would tell her the truth. He always had.

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Dr Ilana Morata

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She had braced herself, but the impact of emotions was still hard and swift. Confusion, affection, guilt, surprise... but what made her physically flinch back in surprise and pain was for him to shut her off just as severely. He couldn't have hurt her more than if he'd reached up and slapped her, it stung so much. Her throat thickened, but she merely swallowed, then nodded. His words... made sense. There was something of the woman, a fierce loyalty that made Ilana view Corran in a new light. For the first time, it seemed, she had to confront her own emotions head on.

But at his words... she merely shook her head, then sighed.
"No... I understand," she murmured throatily, the tone raspier than usual. Her heart thundered in her chest, yet the rest of her felt as though it were made of icy marble. Heat flushed her cheeks, yet it burned with a coldness of disassociation. He had shut her out right when she would have been willing to open her own doors to him, but it was too late anyways.

"You owe me nothing," she continued, then finally meeting his gaze. "But... I've had a lot of time thinking, while you've recovered," she spoke softly, yet her eyes took in his face, her features unreadable. "I couldn't sleep, couldn't rest until I knew you were safe, alive, because I don't think I could stand losing one more person who means..." She hesitated, then flinched again as her throat ached.

For the first time since Starfall, he would see the Doctor without her mask. Pain was the first emotion; confusion. Sorrow. But then... something else in those eyes. A determination. And then a light, a warmth, and a slight smile touching her lips. "I want..." she hesitated, then exhaled.
"I want to be yours, Corran Velt. Through thick and thin; Coruscant showed me what mattered most to me..." she spoke the last sentence softly, watching him with each word. "Not just as a Ranger and an affiliate. But... just as us? As we are?"

She knew it the moment she was in the hallway; she would have fought that Sith to her own death if it meant keeping him alive, and being by his side if he would want her, even if she shared with another in his heart. She loved him. It was a simple, sweet feeling she didn't deserve, and had never truly felt before. If he shut her out again, she would have to leave; being that cut off was worse than anything. She ached for even the slightest sliver of emotion from Corran, amber eyes searching those of sky blue.

Waiting with bated breath.


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Uncertainty filled the gap between them. The wounded man stared at the pale Arkanian that stood not far away, but it felt a distance. Her impassive face did not display much but the way she said she understood made him feel uneasy. Corran expected neither sorrow nor hatred, but nothingness. A blank farewell. The opposite of love is indifference. Why else would she come here to ask about his bond to others? It was a step away from good bye. If that was the case, he would mourn. But not now. He didn’t have the energy to mourn, but he would. Even in her exhausted state, Ilana still held that aura that had pulled him in like a star’s gravity.

No callous exit came. Instead, golden eyes rose to meet his gaze and she continued. At first, her face was stoic. Unreadable. How she had been worried about him, thinking of him. Corran's singular eye softened slightly as he took in what she was expressing. Then, almost without warning, Ilana's inscrutable mask cracked. When it fell from her face, behind it pain. Then confusion. Sorrow. Through a single eye, the young man could see it all in raw expression. Emotions not seen so plainly since Starfall. He scanned her face, trying to puzzle out what the meaning of all this was. The feelings he had shoved down were starting to press against the bulkhead. He never wanted to hurt her. But something else in her countenance gave him pause. A glimpse of something else. A light. All the troubling feelings about her faded away and replaced by something warmer. As if about to dive off a cliff into a lake, the blond youth felt an anxious anticipation.

It started as a trickle. Then it burst into rushing waters. Her words flowed against him, without restraint or reserve. Corran's sole eyelid began to slowly rise with realization until it was wide open. His mouth hung open in surprise. It wasn't an end. It was a confession. She wanted to be with him. Doctor Ilana Morata, Arkanian beauty, force-user, and hobbyist gardener, wanted to be his. It felt as if all the luck the former space trader had used, was using, and would have used in his entire life was spent in this moment. The unfettered and honest revelation of her feelings was so astounding that the Ranger wondered if he was still in a medical coma. But no; this was real. Her amber eyes begged a response as they stared into his own vision.

Inside him was a small spark. A tiny flash of emotion. As the young man stared in astonishment at the wintery woman, that spark caught flame in his heart. Unlike others, there didn't need to be a vault door. No entombed feelings. They could flow freely, without restraint. Ilana did not break his rules or oaths. She merely glided past them. The empathy would see the flicker of affection slowly rise in him. "Ilana..." Corran said with a soft rasp, "... Of course." A single sky blue eye trembled. A small glisten of a tear formed at the base. That was a curious thing. He thought his weakened body was incapable of tearing up, yet she had caused such a raw release of his own feelings that he couldn't hold it back. "I want to... be with you." His words weren't as flowery or declarative, but with her powers, Ilana would know what he was feeling. Holding the water cup in his left hand, Corran weakly extended his right on the edge of the medical cot. Open palmed, it was a wordless invitation for her to come closer. To close the gap between them. To be together.

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Dr Ilana Morata

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She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until he spoke her name. She exhaled sharply, then gave him a shaky smile, grasping his right hand with her left, a light, easy touch. There was still much to talk about. Much to learn, to figure out with each other. Things weren't going to be easy, and there was going to be pain. But he wanted to be with her. With her. Nobody had wanted that before... nobody that was like him.

Seeing him tear up, though, she gave a small squeeze of his hand, then grimaced as more pain lanced down her bandaged arm. Even the slightest movement was uncomfortable, but she'd bear it to make sure he came through all right. He was becoming more alert now; she would give him some time to recover, at least. And though she wouldn't mind coming even closer, she didn't want to crowd him on the narrow bed. So she made do with leaning as close as she was able, gazing up at his face.

No doubt when mental clarity would come more readily, he'd have more questions. But she'd burdened him enough already; the best she could do now was be here, however he needed.
"I'm here," she replied quietly, looking up into his face. "You've got me."

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A commitment was sealed the moment she clasped his hand. At least, that is what it felt to him. There relationship before now was one of trials and tribulations. Unknowns, surprises, and a dash of mystery. And yet... there was a lot of affection. A lot of forged trust. That rare thing where two people were constantly there for one another. Even if more hurdles and immense challenges ahead, Corran wanted to face them with her. They had come through quite a lot and he had faith they would take on more, much more, together. The Arkanian squeezed his hand gently, as if reading his very thoughts, but winced in visible pain and discomfort. The young man's teary eye dried with a blink as he glanced down to her wounded arm. It was bandaged tightly and immobilized near her chest. How had she gotten that, anyway?

There were so many gaps in the wounded Ranger's memory. His last recollection was being drug away from the battle. All his cherished friends were around him. It felt like a hallucination. Then the darkness. All the overwhelming pain finally going quiet. But then... he woke up here. Everyone else, as Ilana told it, was going to recover. But how? Last he recalls, they were in a life and death struggle with a Sith murderer. The wintery woman drew near, leaning close to him as practical. She reassured him that she was here and likely would rarely not be, if she had her way. Corran responded with a fragile grin; the best he could do under the circumstances. His eye couldn't help but glance back down to her arm and then back to her face.

Clear hesitation began to pool in the young man's features. Not because he was afraid to ask a question. He was worried about the answer. Even so, he couldn't ignore the empty space in his mind. Perhaps that was his natural inquisitive nature - a crucial thing for law enforcement and their investigations. "What happened..." Corran began slowly, "...to the Sith? The one that put me here." A determined sky blue eye met golden irises. If there was even a chance that an insane Force cultist nearly killed his closest comrades and escape, he had to know. The danger just that one psychotic woman presented was too much to ignore. The wounded Ranger felt a fear and his most natural emotion. The compulsion for revenge.

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She could see him glance between her arm and face, and yet didn't say anything. But the questions would come soon; she could see them begin to form already. She had prepared for this... the inevitable questioning. But yet she held still, giving him time to ask. The hesitation, consideration. She inhaled slowly, but when the question came... she exhaled quietly beneath her breath, a weight touching her shoulders.

"...She's dead," came her soft answer, her voice quiet, amber eyes not leaving his face as she spoke. She hesitated now, slowly nibbling on her bottom lip to debate her answer, "and I... killed her. She had Trini, and I couldn't leave the Amaran behind. Nor let her hurt you further." There was conflict in her amber eyes, a weight in her throat. Would he forgive her, this taking of a life? She struggled with this as well. Was the woman considered a living being, despite hurting so many? Did she deserve the death she received, or had Ilana broken her vow to not deliberately kill a living being?

She tilted her head slightly to indicate her arm, but still she took in his features.
"She left her mark on me before she passed, though," came the quiet reply, but her voice was hesitant and she swallowed, then looked down at their hands. "She hurt you. Hurt others. I couldn't..." her words faltered, and she closed her eyes, swallowing hard.

She couldn't help feeling like she had done something horribly wrong, but she'd have to bear his judgement either way.


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Dead. The Sith was dead. Corran didn't know why that felt so shocking to hear. Probably because the vile woman had seemed so... so... unbeatable when he fought her. With the equipment at hand, he was just a plaything. Only a continual barrage of stun blasts kept her at bay. All it took to defeat him was a single scratch. The cackling of the Sith woman echoed softly in his memory. How could a powerful force-user like that fall? The Ranger did not have long to wait for an answer. Ilana had killed her. The single blue eye opened wide again in surprise. He was stunned to silence, his own thoughts trying to make sense of the confession. When did Ilana kill her? How? The Sith was so powerful. And why? Why did she have to take a life? It seems that Trini was in danger. Possibly life-threatening. Along with his own. Corran swallowed weakly. Old memories of Outpost Blue came drifting back. Ilana, for her part, seemed burdened. As if the admission was hulking durasteel on her back.

The Doctor tilted her dead to her own battle scars. Immobilized and generously wrapped, the arm wasn't even visible behind all its protective layers. Ilana had come to harm because of his own inability to defeat a terrorist. Trini too. How many others would have been hurt if the Arkanian hadn't come along to correct his failure? Corran's gaze sagged, settling on their enwrapped hands. She was struggling to speak, even going so far as to close her eyes and choke on her own anxiousness. He felt something similar. Like an iron ball in his stomach, guilt just wouldn't leave. Because of his lack of strength, skill, or planning, Trini, Bast, and so many others were put in lethal danger. Worst of all, Ilana was forced to make an impossible choice that she shouldn't have had to make.

As a Sector Ranger, the young man had been given authority to take the live of others in situations deemed necessary. Carbon-scored hallways and vacant faces were fresh in his memory. He had taken lives too. Corran remembers the first man he shot. You never forget the way it smells. That burnt, ashy smell. Ranger training, guidelines, and even some planetary laws, encourage non-lethal force in almost every situation and yet... at Outpost Blue, he had killed a dozen sentient beings. Maybe more. Was what Ilana did any different? Was it better?

A gentle squeeze of her hand attempted to coax the nervous Arkanian back to the blond youth's gaze. He wanted to look her in the eyes when he asked this. As a officer of the law, he had to know the context. The nuance. The details that decide what is self-defense and what is murder. Even in something as chaotic as... as the fall of Headquarters. "How?" A solitary blue eye stared into Ilana's face. "How did the Sith die?" There was another question, unasked, but clearly understood. Did the Sith have to die? Did you have no other choice?

@Killa Ree
 

Dr Ilana Morata

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How did the Sith die. On one hand, Ilana could justify it neatly within her realm of morals. The... creature... was no longer a living being, but a threat. No longer something worthy of the air it breathed, the violence it lashed out. She could feel the guilt weighing his chest, in his mind, and felt the squeeze to her hand. She forced herself to look into his features. In the moment, she felt no remorse for the Sith's violent end... but she wasn't proud of it, either. But seeing Corran's face, she forced herself to speak, her voice a low, steady rasp.

"I burned her."

A concise, factual statement. However... there was an edge of shame. Of... even a little fear in the Arkanian's eyes.
"I tried to stop her without death... I even caught her with a thrown vibroblade, sliced her arm. But she just kept going. So when she came to attack me with her... lightning..."

Her hand trembled ever so slightly, but she didn't move her gaze, but exhaled shakily.
"I burned her. Her mark still succeeded. She was never going to stop... and with so many at risk, I felt from her even severe injury would not stop her. And she laughed..." she swallowed hard, gritting her jaw at the memory. "I don't want this. I don't desire this power." This last statement was spoken, hushed, under her breath with a fervency that startled even her. But it was true.

Deep down, in her heart of hearts, Ilana knew that this was not part of the answers she sought with Kai... but now she had them. And she no longer wanted them. But she waited for his judgement again... though she regretted now bringing this to him, when all she wanted was to rest with him and forget the events past, and the rest of the galaxy for a little while longer. Yet with this confession alone, she seemed exhausted, amber eyes dulled and leaning against the edge of the bed.


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Corran Velt

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There was no denying it. Ilana had stared directly into Corran’s eyes and confirmed it. She had ended the life of the Sith woman. She had burned her. The Sector Ranger HQ had been a raging inferno from above, but the basement was clear of any blazing fires. How did the flames reach so low? While her words were precise and factual, amber eyes displayed mixed emotions of guilt and fear. But Corran couldn’t reassure her. He couldn’t stop the investigation. He had to know what happened.

More details filled in the picture. Even the Sith’s own vibroblade didn’t cause the same convulsions of pain to her as they did Corran. Then lightning. Some sort of shocking power. He’d never seen that before, but reports from the Coruscant Prison suggested it could be done. In the young man’s palm, a white hand began to tremble. While she didn’t back down, eyes staring with determination to see this through, Ilana seemed troubled. Burned. That word again. How all of it couldn’t be avoided. Left with no other choice, all options exhausted, the doctor took a life. With quivering breath and a plea to be released from her powers, the Ranger finally realized what she meant.

Fire. Ilana had summoned fire, much like the lightning, and incinerated her opponent. The environment hadn’t provided an opportunity. Ilana had summoned it. Corran’s lips parted subtly in astonishment. His sky-blue stare softened and his eyebrow angled up sympathetically. A burden made heavier on her because he could not share the burden. The Force was a completely unknown entity to him and every experience revealed new discoveries that only made it more mysterious. But she didn’t have to be alone.

Warm fingers curled around a cold hand and clasped tightly. An expression of support and affection. “I understand,” the ranger rasped, “you had no other choice.” He looked at her reassuringly but with a professional certainty to show that this was no favoritism. “You defended the lives of others and your own against someone who would not relent. Self-Defense.” If Ilana was watching, she would notice something change about the blond youth. Like an armor was shedding off of him. More like the man on Starfall than the Sector Ranger on Coruscant. Even his gaze seemed more emotive. A gentle tug on her hand willed her to sit with him. “It’s okay, Ilana, it’s okay,” he cooed softly. “You did all you could.” All he wanted now was to be there for her.

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Dr Ilana Morata

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It wasn't precisely public knowledge, but she knew Corran was not fond of Force users. That he held at minimal a distrust of them and their capabilities. So when she confessed to him, she'd anticipated anger, disgust, or even revulsion at what she had done. But instead he merely seemed surprised. And yet... there was guilt in the air too. Guilt that gnawed on both of them like so many invisible teeth. So when he tugged her closer, she scooted in.. then paused.

"I don't want to crowd you..." she rasped quietly, yet kept moving. She couldn't help it. He had a way of drawing her out, pulling her in. She sat as close as she could, mindful of him, of his face so that his uncovered eye could see her even now. An answering squeeze, light, came to his hand.

"It isn't," she stated flatly, but stared up at his face.

"What happened to us could happen again, with more severe consequences. But they haven't beaten us yet. We're still alive." Golden eyes burned with a determined light now, as she stared up at his face. She knew, deep down, what guilt pressed in his mind, and she wanted to ease it, if even only a little. "We'll face them down together, Corran. They won't get away lightly with what they've done."

She rested her head gently near his shoulder, glancing down at their intertwined hands, features unreadable for a moment.
"...I wish I was there for you sooner. Can you forgive me?"

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Corran Velt

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Finally, she was close. Ilana had professed that she didn’t want to crowd him, but he wanted nothing but to be close to her. For what felt like forever, he had been floating in nothingness. A dark void that he had feared was death. The place mortals go when they had achieved nothing. Although it wasn’t a jubilant or desperate feeling, it was… comforting to have her close. Comforting in a way he didn’t expect, but didn’t question. Another squeeze of his hand at least reciprocating some measure of his emotions from the Arkanian.

Though Corran’s attempt at comforting words were returned back to him with harsh truth. She was right. They had gotten lucky. His eye took another glance at the doctor's injury. He had gotten lucky. Guilt began to boil in his gut again but then his gaze met fierce lambent eyes. Ilana knew him too well. Everything she was saying beat back the guilt and replaced it with one of his most natural feelings. Vengeance. With each word she spoke, guilt washed away by the crashing waves of the desire for revenge. The Sith, cowards and terrorists, had slain more innocents again in some deluded ideal. He alone needed to bring them to justice. His vision from a singular eye focused on Ilana's face, hardened in its resolve. No. Not alone. The young man had survived with the help of so many others. And Ilana. Ilana would be there. Just as she said, together, they wouldn't get away from what they had done.

As Corran's reinvigorated determination reached a crescendo, the beautiful Arkanian rested her head near his shoulder with an indecipherable face. He tilted his head to look at her, shoulders visibly slouching, and tried to figure out what was going through her mind now. It didn't take long for his curiosity to be satiated. It seemed she carried a bit of her own guilt. In a mirror to the very comfort the wintery woman had given him earlier, the blond youth leaned into her. When he spoke, his words were gentle, "There is nothing to forgive, Ilana." With some effort, Corran's trembling left hand reached over and cupped her jaw. "You were there for me when it mattered most." Weakly, a familiar sight appeared. Small, but noticeable. That stupid, boyish smirk. "Per usual."

His left hand's strength faded and fell from her face onto the wounded Ranger's lap. A groan vocally signaled some frustration and embarrassment. Just when he thought he was recovering rapidly, there was some hurdles to clear. "I don't understand it. A single cut did this to me." Fingers curled and uncurled in repeated clenching into a fist. An attempt to command strength to return. "I remember immense pain. Everything now feels so frail. Tingly, even." Corran's only visible eyebrow dented downward in a display of confusion. "What did she do to me? Do you know when I'll be released?" He thought hospitals a necessary evil. If he needed to stay longer, he would, but getting back out there, especially after what Ilana had said, was an urge he couldn't ignore forever.

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Dr Ilana Morata

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She could see the emotions playing across his features as she pulled close, could feel the struggle within. But she wouldn't fall into guilt. She couldn't. But when the warm touch of his hand brushed against her jaw, she inhaled subtly, lips parting slightly in surprise. She hadn't expected the light touch. But she looked up at him, and tilted her head slightly into the touch.

At the mention of his wound, however, she stared up at him, at first slightly confused. She felt tired now, beyond her normal scope of exhaustion. So many sleepless nights in constant vigil weighed on her mind, but she kept her eyes on his own blue-eyed gaze. Sleep threatened to take her after so much tension, but he still needed her. As she needed him... instead, her thumb lightly traced over his hand.

"I had a field analysis done..." she spoke up quietly. "And some antitoxin, but some weakness isn't abnormal. My biggest concern was consciousness..." she swallowed once, then dropped her gaze, her voice soft. A quiet admission, spoken down, amber eyes threatening to shutter closed if she remained laying like this any longer.

"I can't lose you," she murmured in a low rasp. Eyes closing as his warmth, the rhythm of his breathing and holding her eased the tension that ached down even in her bones. But she couldn't sleep, not yet. They had to figure out how to move forward, but it was getting harder and harder to keep herself alert, now that the true threat had passed.

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Corran Velt

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The cut. A slowly building pain. Fire. Fire in his veins. Paralyzing pain. Then the void. Darkness that never abated. It was all caused by a toxin administered by the blade. Another harsh lesson that he would take to heart. Never be touched by your enemy or, failing that, having armor that could repel their attacks. To keep out toxins. Oh, how he loathed that darkness. Like wandering in a desert with no ground or sky. No end. A powerlessness he never knew existed. How he loathed that feeling. By Ilana's implication, the weakness would fade. Reassuring, to say the least. Though, like him, she was concerned about the unconsciousness. When Corran glanced out of the corner of his eye at the Arkanian woman, he noticed her lowering eyes. She was exhausted. How long had seen been here?

Then she uttered heartful plea, perhaps unintentionally. The young man felt the sparkling warmth of blushing surprise, but didn't visibly react beyond the pink forming in his cheeks. By his side, his guardian angel who had kept constant vigil was drifting into sleep. Golden eyes were slowly hidden behind pale eyelids. A feeling of paternalistic affection swelled in the blond youth's chest. He wanted to nurture and protect her as much as she had for him. They had been through so much. While she was still among the consciousness, he wanted to reassure her; to ease her slumber. "You won't lose me. I promise." Another oath. The same one he promised his mother when he took up the badge of a Sector Ranger. If nothing else... he had plenty to live for.

Carefully, Corran leaned his head against Ilana's. A gentle touch that said so much. Comradery. Care. Trust. It felt like only recently they were intensely interrogated each other in a run-down bar on Corellia. With a sigh, he tried to nudge her into a well-deserved rest. "Get some shut eye, Ilana. I'll keep watch." His tone was soft and calming, a pillow to her thoughts. It's not that there needed to be a watch, it being a hospital, but he understood that she was always vigilant and distrustful. After the fall of headquarters, Corran felt similar. "Don't worry about me," he said, trying to anticipate her sleepy remark, "I've slept enough." The Ranger would rest. He would heal. He would recover. But sleep? For now, he had had enough of the void. He wanted to be awake. Wide awake.

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