Private A New Light from Fire

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Corazona von Ascania
The shuttle bucked once as it broke through the cloud layer, the hull trembling like it shared his unease. Makko kept one hand wrapped around the safety rail and the other pressed flat against the datapad that carried her name.

The words on the medical report were clinical, detached and oddly unspecific. What unsettled him was the messages from Cora calling him urgently to her side.

There was a sharp, electric fear in his chest that refused to fade.

Within a few minutes he was at the medical centre. Inside, the air was heavy with disinfectant and low murmurs. Droids glided between the beds, their mechanical hands steady and calm.

He managed to go past rows of wounded soldiers but was stopped at a receptions desk.

"Name?" the receptionist called sharply.

Makko drew to a halt, slightly surprised by the tone.

"Makko."

"Makko who? Who are you here to see?"

"Makko Vyres, Corazona, my wife is here."

That was met by a frown and tapping on a keypad.

"I don't see you listed as a spouse. This is a high security facility."

Unsure of what to do in the face of a power tripping receptionist, Makko stretched out with the Force. He found Cora.

I'm here. They won't let me in to see you.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

In sharp contrast to how he'd found her after Arkania, Corazona was relatively unscathed. A few bruises and some aching limbs paled in comparison to being found half-frozen to death on a wintry mountainside.

So when she appeared at the reception desk - clad in the sterile white garments they dressed all patients in - Cora hoped it would soothe the threads of anxiety she felt from him, pulled taut in their bond. One hand remained on a metal poll that rolled with her, bearing an IV drip inserted into her left hand.

Her smile, while genuinely warm with relief at the sight of her husband, held an edge of nerves.

"I apologize for the trouble," she addressed the receptionist with a dip of her head. "I don't think that all of my contact information loaded in properly, but he is with me."

Cora reached for Makko's hand, eager for both his soothing touch and to ground him in the knowledge that she was alive and well. He'd recently spent a few harrowing weeks at her bedside, uncertain if she'd ever wake up again.

"We need to talk," she said, voice lowering to a murmur that carried only between them as she tugged him along.

Cora was oddly quiet as she lead him along a row of veiled beds.

"I'm alright," she added quickly. "Did you…read the report I sent you?"

Cora pulled back one of the sterile white curtains and ushered him inside, climbing back into the bed. He might notice that the room was devoid of all but one medical device, and not even a chair for him to sit in.

"These are just fluids," she motioned to the bag of clear liquid hung on the IV pole. "For dehydration."

Cora slipped her hand beneath the sheets and produced a narrow rectangular card. Several grainy images, black and white, cascaded down the length of the film.

She handed it to Makko wordlessly. There was a moment where Cora did look as though she wanted to say something, but she only pursed her lips and tapped her fingers together while watching him in silent, rapt anxiety.

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Seeing a Cora on his feet brought a wave of relief. The memory of finding her on that mountain was far too fresh. He followed after her, trying to work out why they needed to talk.

He took the film. For a moment, all he saw were shadows and shapes. It was a scatter of ink on thin film.

Then it hit him.

The room was too quiet, save for the rhythmic drip of her IV. It filled the space where he should have been reacting, marking the seconds it took for his brain to catch up. When he realised what he held, his heart quietly followed his brain.

He lifted the card closer. His fingers trembled ever so slightly. The grainy image came into focus: a small, hazy curve. It was like a small white bean smudged against the dark.

“Cora…” His voice broke around her name, all the breath gone from his chest. “Is this...?

Makko blinked once, twice. They had talked at length about this decision. His imagination had brought him joy but it was a dream that never quite took a shape in his mind. Now it was real. It was a shape, even if he couldn't make out much of that shape.

He set the card down carefully on the edge of the bed.

“Cora…” he breathed, sinking down on the bed. He sat beside her waist, turning to face her as he reached for her hand.

“You’re… we’re..." He let out a shaky laugh, halfway between disbelief and wonder. He was grinning and crying as he tried to find something to say.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

As Makko examined the ultrasound photos, Cora had to remind herself to breathe. Every little crease in his expression, every tremble in his hand sparked a flurry of anxious excitement. It took root in her stomach and crawled outwards from there, tingling up her chest and throat before it spread to her limbs.

Usually so verbose, all she could do was croak out an awkward "yeah" as Makko sat beside her. He reached for her hand, and she didn't even remember lacking her fingers with his own.

They'd talked about starting a family, but there was never a good time to do so during a war. It was a dream that always seemed further away, towards a future that was already bright and shining.

Now, they had to ground themselves in reality. Reality in the shape of a little white smudge.

Cora let her head fall against Makko's shoulder. She had to roll her eyes to look up at him.

"They're discharging me soon," she murmured. "It's…I’m about seven weeks, they said. They found a heartbeat-"

She choked on the lump in her throat. The singular line of fetal heartbeat not detected was burned into her memory, even all those years ago.

Cora drew in a slow breath, willing her shoulders to relax on her exhale.

"It's still early," she started again, voice just as soft, "but I feel…different with this one. They want me to follow up with the maternity hospital on Naboo."

Neither of them had good parental models, their childhoods rife with neglect and abuse.

This, though. This was a family that they could build on their own.

A thought as thrilling as it was terrifying.

“Okay?” She asked. It wasn’t really for confirmation of their next steps, but a question for him.

Makko Vyres