If That Mockingbird Don't Sing [Kyra]

[Nida Perl]

Nida bustled into the emergency ward, the grace and serenity befitting of a Jedi completely forgone. A calm, level appearance was an invaluable tool when treating the sick and wounded, no matter how desperate their situation may be. Patients took their cues from the healers, from the medical staff tending to them. If the caretaker wasn’t worried, then the patient was less likely to panic.

All professionalism had been left at the sliding doors when the most recent arrival had been registered into the Halls of Healing. Nida could still see the words flashing against the black panel—Kyra Perl, Bed 8.

And there her little sister was, laying in bed 8. Whoever was on duty would just have to deal with Nida taking their patient, as her typical meekness was not a hurdle when it came to family. “Oh, Kyra.” Warm pink hands placed themselves on either side of Kyra’s face, concern etching onto Nida’s own features. She would never forgive herself if she let her little sister die, despite the understanding that Kyra’s wounds would not be fatal if treated. Still, it was a terrifying thought, her own sister being attacked. Of course she worried for all of her siblings—but when Dagon and Yula came home with injuries of their own, that didn’t inspire a panic. Dagon and Yula could handle themselves.

Kyra was a baby.

Despite the fact that she was growing up—surpassing Nida in height, despite being several years younger—Kyra would always be the baby. The youngest of five, a stigma from which she would never be rid. Nida was equally as worried about the mental scars that would be left on her sister from however she’d sustained the wounds.

“Tell me what happened, Birdie.” Nida hadn’t consciously chosen to use her childhood nickname, it had just come out. “Birdie” had been a name Kyra earned with her chipper attitude, but perhaps also a nod to her difficulty leaving the nest. Nida always thought it had fit for the former reason, picturing Kyra as a pretty red-and-pink songbird.

As she spoke, she lifted Kyra’s shirt, drawing the fabric back to reveal a scorch of a blaster mark along the side of her torso.

[member="Kyra Perl"]

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra’s skin was cold. They had gone far in hyper drive before they had managed to take over the ship and be retrieved by, yanno, actual adults that could pilot them back.

Her composure had slowly been crumbling away, but it was having Nida swoop in before her that undid her completely. Being the baby of the family was as much a stigma as something she identified with. Having any sibling step up to her aid felt akin to being covering with a safety blanket. She didn’t have to be strong now, they would fix things for her.

And boy, did she have some things for Nida to fix.

“Ni-Nida?” Her voice was small, racked by the shakes and shivers that dominated her body. She was soaked in cold sweats, a straight shot to her shoulder evident in the blood stains left behind. None of that really reached Kyra now. Nida was here. She reached and groped for her sister’s warmth, as if just a hug would heal it all. I mean, if you asked it, it would have.

The safest place for her was always in her family’s arms.

“I messed up,” she confessed, almost feverish in her tone. “I messed up, I messed up-“ she seized her, crazed. “You can’t tell mom.”

 

[Nida Perl]

The fact that Kyra was conscious enough to cry just made it all the more difficult to see her in this position. Nida’s heart ached wildly at the sight of her little sister shivering and shaking with anxiety, clammy hands reaching for her in a desperate plea.

“I’m here Kyra; I’m here.” Crackles of emotion broke though that calm, scripted tone. “I’m here Kyra, and I’m going to help you. Shh, put your arm out here—can you do that for me?” With a gentle grip, she pried one of Kyra’s hands from the shoulder of he robe and carefully laid it flat, palm up. A nurse who’d appeared by the bedside went to work inserting an IV into the patient’s arm, recognizing her need for blood products. While that procedure was taking place, Nida was leaning over her sister to hold her arm in position, standing on her tiptoes.

Kyra’s sobs wracked her to her core, and it took all of Nida’s composure to keep her own tears from falling. There were two comforts here—her sister was alive, and she could help heal her. It was the circumstance that was just so painful. Doubly for the plea of don’t tell mom.

“It’s alright, it’ll be alright. We all mess up, Birdie.” A pink hand came up to brush the reddish-violet hair from Kyra’s face. She looked so much like their mother. “I won’t tell mom.” She admitted, unsure as she was if she could really keep that statement. At least right now, reporting back to mom was not her first priority.

Once the IV was in place, Nida slowly retracted her hold and receded off of the bed, only to retrieve a pair of fabric scissors from her pocket. Carefully but quickly, she snipped away at the fabric covering her patient’s torso in order to give her a better field to work with. “Are you injured anywhere other than your shoulder and side, Kyra?” From the way she’d been bent in pain, the first two injuries were fairly telltale. “I know that this is scary, but I’m with you, Birdie. We’ll get you through this.”

[member="Kyra Perl"]

 

[Kyra Perl]

"It's alright, It's alright."

Kyra believed the words whole-heartily, the worst of her anxiety curbed by her trust for her sister. She never understood why Nida thought so little of herself. Not that she ever said as much to Kyra, Nida always tried to keep such a composed front on. In a way, that front become who she was in the eyes of her little sister. Strong. Capable. Resilient. Nida had survived in circumstances far worst than Kyra could fathom. She was worldly and she was wise.


And if she said Kyra wasn't going to die, then she wasn't.

Kyra's resistance faded, the nurse allowed access to her arm. Kyra held Nida's gaze, a sniffling pile of withheld sobs as she tried to still her shaking enough for the needle. She gurled a squeak at the prick, then once clear resumed her squirming against the bed. "It hurts so much," she complained as Nida pulled away. Where was she going? Come back!

She reached desperately for her sister even as she immediately returned. "But it hurts," she protested again, her sobs replaced by whines and noises of pain. She struggled to process if other parts of her were hurt besides the shots. Logistically she knew what mistakes she made and she knew they were only that. Still, she had to look and found nothing but dried blood with no source and an ache in her head. A black eye from a back hand across the face would soon emerge, but nothing more. Some would call that lucky, if they knew what she had gotten into in the first place.

Thankfully, her mother never would. "I hadto- I had to do it, Nida," she reasoned, desperate to keep their agreement about no mother's in place. "There were salvers- slavers - and they were taking the wookie children." She groped at Nida, as if the mere mention was a threat to the status of their family.

She would kill them all again if they ever attempted that. It wasn't a very Jedi thought. She had done some not-so-jedi things today. Nida had to understand.

 

[Nida Perl]

Each of Kyra’s pained cries sent another nail into her heart, so much so that Nida feared her heart would shatter before the day was done.

“I know, Kyra. I know…” Her voice took on the most soothing, empathic tone imaginable. She could scarcely imagine how this wouldn’t hurt, how this wouldn’t be a terrifying experience. Replenishing her blood supply and seeing to the wound were of top priority; unfortunately controlling Kyra’s pain would have to wait, as much as she wanted to comfort her sister.

With Kyra’s shirt removed, Nida scanned over her torso with a trained eye, honing in on her shoulder. She’d taken a direct hit there, as evidenced by the scorch mark and red, inflamed skin. Nida’s hand hovered over the injury, pausing just before she touched the flesh when something in Kyra’s voice made her halt. Slavers, she’d been fighting slavers.

Several years of Nida’s early life played before her eyes in a snap, except it was Kyra in chains, it was Kyra being abused, it was Kyra crying. But that was all she allowed to deter her, pushing through the intense emotional response looking utterly dumbfounded. A pink hand laid gently atop Kyra’s wound, feeling the heat radiating off of her shoulder. It likely hurt like hell, but Nida would see that it would soon be lessened as she focused the Force on the damaged tissue and blood vessels, willing them to repair at a more rapid pace than was natural.

There were about a thousand things she wanted to say right now. She wanted to break the mask and scream at Kyra, call her an idiot for putting herself in danger, for ignoring the value of her own life, for putting herself on the line. At the same time, she was proud that her sister had the courage and sense of justice to do just that—but it also made her jealous. And relieved, that her baby sister, though wounded, was in the safest place she could be right now. Alive.

“I-I…” Her professionalism faltered for a moment, and Nida bit her lip. “I’m just so thankful…you came back, Birdie.” Magenta eyes crinkled with unshed tears, before they seeped past her waterline and cut a slow path down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you…”

[member="Kyra Perl"]

 

[Kyra Perl]

The pain of being touched distracted the girl from the feelings of the one whom touched her. But as the force slowly had it's way through her body, Nida's touch became a cool, soothing presence. Nida's feelings trickled through her then, faint echos that betrayed the calm mask that hovered over her. Kyra's cries fell off, her sister's distress shocking her. It hit her with startling clarity that her actions today had effected more than her, a concept she had neglected to consider when she charged head first onto a ship full of slavers with nothing but a training saber.



The shakes returned to her limbs, more subtle and natural than the time before as she quaked for them both.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, guilt coiling through her. What would happen to her family if she died? Lately she would have bitterly reported that most of her siblings probably wouldn't have even noticed. Kyra who? Oh, the youngling they left behind. How old was she now?

This narrative was dashed as tears fell from Nida's eyes. Kyra wanted to take it back --Every rash decision she had made today. Every bitter thought she had had for each sibling as they left the nest while she was stuck behind-- she felt abruptly childish for it all. And that cut her to the core, worse than the killings or the injuries. It made her question herself in one of those destabilizing ways that always lacked an immediate answer.

She cried and tried to wrap Nida in a hug, a first sign that the healing was doing its work on her. She'd be okay. She tried to bury her face in her sister's hair, breathing her scent in. "I'm sorry, I'm stupid, I'm sorry."

 

[Nida Perl]

For a moment, the two sisters held each other and just let themselves feel the torrent of relief and regret, but mostly relief, that washed over them. Kyra had begun to stabilize, physically and emotionally. The healing process would perhaps take longer on the outside, but Nida would be there for Kyra in every way that she could.

“You’re not stupid. You’re brave Kyra, so brave. I always wished that I could be as courageous as you and the others. Mom would be proud of you, I think.” Nida leaned closer and pressed her lips to Kyra’s forehead, listening to her shuddering breath and whimpers. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors let the healer know that her vitals were stable, and the damage she’d felt from the wound was beginning it mend itself. Even still, the thought of a bullet ripping through her sister’s shoulder was sickening.

Nida lingered this way for a little while, before pulling back just enough for Kyra’s face to be in view. Gingerly, she lifted herself onto the bed, seating herself beside her sister. “You know, I did something dumb on Onderon. I tried something that I shouldn’t have, and I took a blaster bolt for it.” Picking up Kyra’s hand, she pressed it to her own shoulder, where she’d been injured. The wound had since healed, but it had been an intense moment. “Don’t tell mom, okay?” Her voice was lighter here, mirroring Kyra’s earlier plea with a note of good-nature.

[member="Kyra Perl"]

 

[Kyra Perl]

Her eyes jolted wide like saucers. It was Kyra's turn to fear for the safety of a sibling, even if this sibling had long since turned out okay. Her mind raced to process this information. Not only did she want answers on what happened, but she wanted to know the when and how. The 'how did she not know about this', to be specific. The lost details of her sister's life bothered her greatly. Did their mother know? Of course not. She would have been furious. Which reminded Kyra of the necessity for her own requests. No mothers.

"Our little secret," she swore, swallowing hard. Her hand warmed in a poor attempt to heal a wound that was no longer there. Kyra was notorious for struggling with academic training. However, when it came to things with the force, she had constantly shown innate potential in a broad range of skills. Healing had been one of those rare exceptions, a fact that had driven her crazy for quite some time after trying to learn it from Nida one holiday break. Regardless, the gesture was there, the girl doing it unconsciously as she often did with things of the force. She was weird like that.

Today's events were still fresh in her mind. She didn't care to put them into words yet. She had killed. And in anger, no less. She wasn't very experienced with this stuff but she was pretty sure that made her a sith in the making. The concept sent large jolts of fear through her core.

She curled her fingers around Nida's, congealed blood leaving them sticky, and focused on her instead.

"What happened?" She breathed, her voice remaining tight.

 

[Nida Perl]

Nida’s heart sank at causing her sister worry. Behind her, the monitors were quick to pick up on the change, beeping rapidly to indicate Kyra’s climbing heart rate. “I’m okay Kyra.” Gently, she squeezed her sister’s hand, applying enough pressure in hopes that it would translate her sincerity. “I’m okay, really. I promise you that it wasn’t that bad.”

She missed the brief spread of warmth at her shoulder where Kyra’s hand had been. It was heartening, to know that her sister was worried so badly that she tried to heal a wound that was no longer there—with healing skills that were, if she were being honest, not particularly well honed. While Kyra had inherited their mother’s aptitude in the Force, it seemed that she had also passed on her inability to heal well. Idly, she wondered if Yula possessed any similarities in her own ability.

Taking a deep breath, she struggled to recall that day. A lot had happened—and she purposely omitted grandpa Zef from the story for the time being. “I was on Onderon with a task force, out job was to protect a mining facility that had been taken hostage by Mandalorian remnants. As you can imagine, a fight broke out and I tried to incapacitate one of the snipers. I managed to unbalanced him and he dropped his weapon, but not before firing his last shot.”

She gave Kyra a tired smile, rubbing her thumb across the back of her sister’s hand. “I made it out alright, though. It wasn’t a grievous wound. Besides, I had somebody there looking after me…” Her cheeks flushed as she thought of [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"], who’d protected her from falling debris and was at her side shortly after she’d been injured, carrying her to safety and treating her wound. Even now, she still had butterflies in her stomach just thinking about him.

Trying to play it off, she turned her heated face towards the monitors to assess the steadiness of their beeps.

[member="Kyra Perl"]

 

[Kyra Perl]

Heat filled Kyra's pallid features, her sister's butterflies unmistakable through their contact. She took in a shaky breath, the feeling a touch new but identifiable to the girl.

"That boy, huh?" She whispered, her voice tight with... jealousy. "The one I see you walking around with," she clarified, already braced for Nida's flustered refusal. "Tall. Blond. Handsome." A bitter edge hit her tone, one that the girl never often showed. Perhaps it was just the shock of the day tearing down filters or perhaps it was that simply that she finally had the chance to say it. But the girl's pain was unmistakable as she called out her sister's crush.

"He's why I never see you around, isn't he." She pulled her hand away, the heart monitor sparking in sync with tears that gathered back in her eyes. "He's why you're always away."

Accurate or not, it was the explanation Kyra clung to. It was easier to focus the pain of her sister's absence on a person. A person, you could hate. A life choice? Growing up? Branching out? Much harder to curse out. Not to mention a boy would go away eventually. They always did. Maybe even faster if she was mean to him.

Kyra tried to wrap her arms around herself but found the motion was too painful. So she gasped and flailed and pulled away from Nida, effectively pouting.

 

[Nida Perl]

Nida hadn’t known what to expect—teasing, maybe? But Kyra’s reaction had come from left field, and she instantly felt terrible for causing her even more pain today. The bitterness that seeped into her sister’s voice was shocking.

She searched for the words, but they wouldn’t come. When Kyra yanked her hand away, Nida’s throat tightened and her heart cracked with rejection. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything, but she would not lie to her kin.

“That’s him.” She affirmed softly, folding her hands meekly into her lap. Her breath hitched in her throat as she tried to continue, perhaps thinking better of what she wanted to say. Would simply words be enough to fix this, to assure her sister that she would love her the same no matter who came into their lives?

Seeing Kyra wince in pain as she tried to hug herself triggered Nida’s protective instinct, and before she knew it she was lingering over her sister. “Kyra…the life of a Jedi is not so simple, you know that.” Her tone was not one of admonishment, but one of understanding, trying to coax out some common ground between the two of them. “And he is a ranger, so we don’t get to see each other as often as you’d think.” Often times, either one or both of them were off world doing their respective jobs.

Kyra and Nida had been so close when they were younger, but that changed when Nida took her first steps on Kashyyyk. Kyra had eventually followed, but their respective training schedules had kept them apart. “I’m sorry,” Cautiously but with purpose, she reached for Kyra’s hand again. “I had no idea that you felt so…abandoned. I should have paid better attention to how you were faring here.” It hurt to admit, and her voice nearly caught the word abandon.

Nida took in a deep breath and forced a smile. “Let’s try and meet once every week, if we’re not away on missions. Does that sound good, Kyra? Maybe…you’d like to meet Thirdas, too? I promise you that he is kind and gentle. You’ll like him.” Even though it was true, she feared that Kyra may dislike him out of simple spite.

[member="Kyra Perl"]

 

[Kyra Perl]

Noises hitched in Kyra. Nida hit her emotions on the head, not requiring Kyra to build the courage to dig any deeper into the massive hole each sibling's 'abandonment' had left inside of her. Life had been good when they were all together. Perfect, even, if you had asked Kyra. Her happiest memories were all tied to the times they had spent growing up together-- getting into things. Laughing. Covering for each other. Never alone. And as each sibling went away, Kyra and Nida and still had each other to buffer the loss and fill their lives. Kyra had never really had the chance to miss something that she still had in Nida. But that all changed when Nida took her turn to leave the nest. She had filled the hole Kyra had left with new friends and a purpose.

Kyra had done nothing but self-sabotage and reject any chance for the same since then.

A slight mucusy sob caught in Kyra. If she wasn't so drained, she would have dissolved into tears all over again. Instead Nida got a numb nod, the girl too beaten up by the day to dig her heels in any further. She was just starting to figure out that life was never gonna be what it use to be again. They couldn't get back their childhood and no amount of pouting from her was going to change that. But that lack of control left a whole well of pain the girl had not fussed out yet. If everything was different and nothing was the same, what was she suppose to do? Adjust? Move on, like the others? She actively didn't know how, and for a moment she was sure was just doomed to be miserable forever.

But Nida's offer to establish something new between them was an olive branch, and she saw that. Kyra could be petty. She could even be self destructive. But that ended with the relationship of her siblings. Always.

Her fingers wrapped back around Nida's hand, accepting them.


"That is... if I'm still here," she confessed after a long silence, her voice tight.