It took Verrin a few minutes to realize that while Muriel was breathing, she wasn’t moving. So he soon struggled to get out from beneath her, and then got up on his knees and rolled her over so she was laying on her back. Her chest rose and fell as it should, and he saw her discarded lightsaber nearby. He started to remember what had happened, and why he was in pain, and startled, he looked down at himself. His hands patting about, looking for the gaping hole that must’ve been in his torso.

But while his searching revealed the torn remnants of his robes, all he found was a huge fresh, pink scar that ran around his midsection, just below his bottom rib. With the discovery, memory came to him and he recalled how Muriel had stabbed him with her lightsaber while he was in the middle of an attack. She’d meant to hurt him - that much he was sure of - for the stab had been intentional. But he surmised that the result was much more harsh than she’d expected, or else she wouldn’t have cast the weapon aside and wound up atop him. Putting two and two together, he guessed that she must have used the new knowledge - the Vital Transfer - to pull him back from the brink. But he’d warned her about overdoing it - about overexerting herself. And in the effort, she’d passed out, exhausted.

Now that he was conscious again, and more or less whole, he used the Force to pull a datapad to himself. He used the pad to summon some medical droids, and in short order, they arrived, complete with repulsorbeds for both himself and Muriel. He figured he could walk to the Infirmary, but didn’t bother with the added stress - he needed to ascertain the extent of the internal damage before he exerted himself. He picked up Muriel’s saber, and tucked it into his belt.

They troupe made it to the Infirmary without incident, and during the trip, Verrin had sent further messages to the Staff. Slaves were summoned, and given sedatives. When Verrin and Muriel arrived, there were a half dozen of them all sleeping peacefully.

A medical scan showed Verrin the damage - she’d pierced his abdomen, and because he had turned, he’d essentially cut himself in half on her blade. Internally, he was cauterized immediately, so blood loss wasn’t so much an issue. But Muriel’s healing efforts had regenerated the tissue at a surprising rate, and he really was feeling the burning of that regeneration - like the tingling one felt when a limb ‘went to sleep’ and then ‘woke up’. Using one of the slaves, Verrin transfered life essence from them to himself, completing his internal healing process. His favorite robe would have to be replaced, but it was a small price to pay for escaping death. He regretted leaving his wife again, but decided to push hard to resolve the issue with his daughter, lest he perish again without her.

Muriel’s wounds were not physical but mental. She’d recuperate with rest, but Verrin transferred another slave’s health to her in an effort to speed up the process a bit. When it was done, she seemed to be resting comfortably, and he stroked her red hair once, clearing it from her face.

Taking a seat beside her bed, he waited for her to awaken.

Muriel slept for hours and hours and then woke up normally, looked at her master, who was sitting by her side, and gave him a faint smile of recognition.

“Master…. “ her voice trembled with relief. “Thank the Force.”

I have been so worried about you…

Her face looked so thin, so fragile. The hollows under the beautiful cheekbones were painfully deep, but her eyes were clear and focused directly on Verrin’s face.

“May I have some water?” she asked.

One of the medical attendants was called upon to fetch it, returning momentarily. She drained the glass almost immediately while the Zabrak sat quietly and watched. Setting the empty vessel aside, Muriel could feel his familiar lavender eyes transfixed upon her - upon every movement she made - no matter how minute. Perhaps he was still on his guard, residual mistrust from the unfortunate accident very much alive in his mind - calling for ultimate caution…

Brilliant emerald eyes finally lifted to meet his, embedding themselves there - no emotion evident within. They simply looked at each other, neither of them speaking a word. Then Muriel slipped her hand in the thin muscular hand that was resting so quietly on the top of her blanket. Some part of her hoped, against all odds, that his fingers would close tightly around her palm, but … would they? Or maybe he would opt to crush her delicate palm in his, reminding her of the pain that he suffered, at her hands…

That very moment, Muriel felt like being at the bottom of a well with no hope of ever being rescued. Instead of rebuilding his trust, she seemed to shatter it with every opportunity she was given. This latest stunt was clearly an accident, but the apprentice was almost certain her master did not see it that way. And would he forgive her now, as he had so many times before - offering her a kind word of compassion instead of this ongoing, deafening silence? Unable to stand it any longer, she spoke, her voice quiet yet firm.

“Perhaps you should just … say whatever it is you are trying so hard, not to.”

Everything about this photo is perfect. That is all I can really say about it. 

~L~