Private Somebody Catch My Breath

[Ryv]

You're weak, Ryv...
Beaten down...
Do not look away from me...

A cold, gnarled hand snapped up and tightened around the Jedi Knight's jaw. Claw-like nails bit deep into flesh as tough, leathery fingers ripped Ryv back into focus. He fought for each breath as something cold clamped shut around his throat. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he bit back another scream. A coughing fit often accompanied each plea for mercy, scarlet blood mixed in with his saliva.

The ghosts that walk along beside you.... tell me about them...
Hello...?
Please don't make me ask again, Ryv...

His vision blurred as darkness overtook his senses. The scent of iron hung heavy in the air, along with sweat and excrement. A biting chill settled over his body. None of it felt right, but at least the pain had stopped. At least he could get some sleep.

Ryv! Silly Jedi, did you think we were finished?!

Laughter accompanied the Khaleesh's hoarse voice. It warned of pain. And like before, Ryv could do nothing. Lightning coursed through his body in waves of red-hot agony. His limbs went rigid as his muscles shook and spasmed alongside the electricity's irregular rhythm. Unable to fight back, he raged against the shackles locking him in place on the operating table. The Kiffar screamed as fissures spread along his body, skin splitting open as the Sith Lord's droid carved him up between the torturer's Force-made-current. He could smell his body being cooked alive. He could feel his chances of surviving slipping further and further away, already long out of reach.

You're a goner, dear Ryv...
My goner...

Ryv bit down on the fabric forced between his teeth yet again. If only he could work through the gag, then he could be free.

​

Screams didn't accompany Ryv's form as he shot up in bed. No, not anymore. Instead, he quickly scanned his surroundings, eyes flickering to and fro as he reminded himself where he was. Posters of various games, old holo-flicks, and some of his favorite bands lined the walls. Most were taped unevenly, crooked in one manner or another. Resolve hung from the belt looped around a hook beside his bedroom door. An empty glass of water rested on his bedside table, a dirty plate next to that. Everything about his room was just as he left it when he dozed off a few hours earlier. With a deep breath, he leaned back in bed and wiped away the gathered sweat just above his brow.

"Never enough of that, huh Chief?" Ryv questioned the inactive droid resting on his desk chair. "I shouldn't wake you with my 3:00 AM crazy talk," he slowly slid out of bed as he spoke. "Lemme just grab this, and this, aaaaand this," he swiped a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and his holo-device before he departed the room. Over the next several minutes, he washed his face, fixed his unruly mop, and properly dressed for another late-night walk through the Jedi Temple. "Alright, BD, I'll be back in a bit! No more crazy droid parties, you hear!?" he waited at the door for a few seconds, and when no answer came, he shut the door. "I thought so, little dude," he laughed to himself until he took note of the trio of padawans, led by a Knight no less, gawking silently at the Sword of the Jedi.

"Uhh..." Ryv blinked. "I was talking to my droid..."

The little ones broke into a giggle fit at Ryv's odd behavior. In return, he winked at the knight and wandered off. As sleep managed to evade him, it became easier to navigate the massive temple. Some of his trips led him deep into his latest home, others to a more familiar locale. Every trip started differently, twisting and turning through empty hallways. Being lost in his thoughts used to be such a pain. Nowadays, a bit of time to himself to work through the craziness went a long way. Yet, those winding corridors never quite prepared him for his final stop. Before he knew it, his body stopped moving; feet firmly planted on familiar ground. He looked up like usual. There it was, just like last time.

Auteme's room.

"Here I am again," Ryv muttered as he pushed his hair back. "Why do you think I always end up here, huh?" he looked up, eyes locked on the hallway's arching ceiling. "Not gonna say anything?" he waited several minutes, only dropping his head as the silence dragged on uncomfortably long. "Yeah, didn't think so, pops," he turned and took a step back in the direction of his room, only to freeze midway through his second. "You know what? Fuck it."

Ryv pivoted a full 180 degrees and marched back up to the door. He raised his hand, knocked thrice, and waited. "What do I even say?" he asked himself. "Hey, sorry to bother you! Had a nightmare," he facepalmed. "Stupid."

Auteme ​

 

[Auteme]

Ryv ​

They'd been here before.

Auteme rolled over in her bed, sparing a glance at her clock. Early. Very early. Who would wake her up now? It had to be something important. They were lucky that she'd crashed after dinner the night before; otherwise she'd likely have been in the later stages of her sleep cycle. A few knocks wouldn't have woken her up. She considered staying in bed, but only a cursory sense of who it was at her door made her feel obligated to get up.

Another roll and she'd slipped out of the duvet. Two long strides and she was nearly at the door. A flicker of movement in her peripheral vision stopped her just as she'd begun to reach for the doorknob; it being the ungodly hour it was she jumped in surprise. No, there was no intruder, only her reflection in the tall mirror on the wall. Auteme was not a vain person. Many times she'd walked by that mirror and wondered why she had it. Then there were the rare few occasions she appreciated it -- when she needed to make sure her attire was at least moderately respectable for the event she'd be attending.

But when she looked in the mirror then, all she saw were the things that had changed. She was taller. Her hair was longer; not too much longer, but it moved and flowed a little more. With a light nightgown rather than oversized pajamas, the dim light gave her an almost ethereal elegance. She'd grown. It was rare that she reminded of it.

She opened the door, turned on the light and looked at Ryv.

"Hey."

They'd been here before.

Though their relationship had waxed and waned, she understood him well enough -- enough to not bombard him with questions as soon as she saw him. He wouldn't have woken her if it wasn't important. "Do you want to come in?"

She stepped aside, glancing at the beanbag chair in the corner of the room.

 

[Ryv]

Yeah, they had been there before.

Ryv said nothing at first. He looked past her to the idle beanbag chair. A forearm rested against the doorway in place of his missing hand. It looked too natural, almost as if the hand hadn't been there in the first place. A testament to the Jedi's ability to adapt, maybe. More likely an unwelcome side effect to an even less desired turn of luck. As she turned away, he looked back to her, eyes momentarily set on admiring her in the dim light. They weren't the same kids on Peace anymore. Those now empty halls housed countless hours of joy, pain, fear, and tranquility. Coruscant kept him busy. Kept her busy too. All of them, really, but it didn't much matter anymore.

Time kept on turning.

"Yeah," he muttered after several long seconds. "I think I would," he stepped in past her, his arms falling in behind his back. His right hand enveloped the nub midway down his forearm, fingers slowly wrapping around it as if to lock it in place. "Not one for pajamas anymore, huh?" he laughed once, turned to the beanbag, and wandered over. Rather than take the plush seat, he pressed his back to the wall and slid down to the floor. Two bare feet pressed forward as one of his arms stretched out to hang over his right knee.

Nothing came out at first, customary for the troubled Jedi Knight. He rested his head against the wall instead, eyes locked on the ceiling, lazily following the shadows cast along its flat surface. They eventually found their way back to her. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry about waking you," his fingers gently drummed along the topside of his shin. "I guess I don't really have anyone else to talk to anymore," he allowed his attention to drift back to the ceiling, only for his eyes to close a second after that. His fingers' tempo did not change, but the intensity shifted, each thud a tad louder than the last. "Maynard and Loske are... Somewhere else, I think. Not literally. Well, maybe literally, but also, well," he stuttered through his expression of thought expertly. "Metaphorically, is what I mean. Feels like where they are in their lives, I'm not. I'm still just a guy trying to drink enough water to stop the headaches or eat three square to avoid stomach pains."

He stopped drumming. His fingers flexed, tightening on the fabric of his sweats to clamp down onto his knee. Tension raced down his arm as each muscle went taut until his knuckles whitened.

Ryv took a deep breath. "That's not really why I'm here, though," he opened his eyes and looked to the wall across from him. "There isn't anyone more reliable in the Order than you. I want to know your vision for the Order. I want to know where you want to take us, so I can help you make that dream a reality. Still a lot of progress to made here in the Core, and it's our responsibility to lead by example," his left leg stretched out in full, toes wriggling through the air as if to punctuate the point.

"With war, the Bryn, this Jedi schism... just, all of it. It's too damn much. We need to be on the same page to advert disaster is what I'm saying. I think."

Auteme ​

 

[Auteme]

Ryv
​

Auteme closed the door behind him, then went to sit on her bed. It was soft. Calling her, almost -- she crossed her legs and leaned forward, forcing herself to have a bit of discomfort. Enough to keep her awake and focused on Ryv. She understood why he chose not to sit on the beanbag chair. There were a fair few times where she'd dozed off there. Even so, he probably didn't need it. If there was something on his mind so early in the morning it'd probably keep him up until he got it out.

"I get it." She nodded in response to his initial sentiment to give him a reprieve of the stuttering speech. Loske and Maynard were active in a far different way. Less Jedi, more soldiers and pilots; even though they still represented the Jedi. They were rarely at the temple and even more rarely staying overnight. And even then, she understood the bit of worry -- while she didn't voice it she'd become concerned for the couple. Maynard's presence had become less of a comforting light; more and more when they met all she saw was the sliver of darkness. She didn't believe he'd ever hurt Loske but there was definitely a chance he'd hurt someone else. Auteme wondered if Ryv felt the same in his closest friend.

In the moment she was more concerned about him. Drinking enough water and eating enough were very important. But of course he wouldn't wake her up just to ask for advice on how to eat and drink (not that she'd mind giving a bit of advice).

"Is that what you're thinking about in the middle of the night? You need to sleep better," she said with a laugh. Still, it was important. With all the turmoil in the galaxy it was important to have a plan on how the Jedi could continue to help people. It was nice to know that Ryv still valued her opinion. Even so, why he'd come to her instead of-

The mildly amused expression faded as she thought a little more.

Instead of who?

Auteme had never considered herself a leader, not in the sense that she considered Ryv -- and so many other Jedi -- a leader. But why? She represented the Jedi in the Senate. She'd started teaching. She'd helped in negotiations and diplomacy and Jedi affairs on a dozen occasions.

No, no, but there were people better than her. More qualified. She wasn't a master; she'd been a knight for less than a year. There were so many more wise and skilled than her-

Then why hadn't they stepped up?

The New Jedi didn't have a grandmaster. They barely had any structure, aside from the vague ranks of master, knight, padawan, initiate. No one had truly decided to lead. So why couldn't she take control? She might not have the rank of master but she had the means to guide the Jedi to a better future. A future that only she could see.

She remembered how anxious and self-sabotaging she'd once been. Hours upon hours obsessing over what she wasn't doing, how she wasn't measuring up to the other padawans. Ryv had been one of them -- someone she admired, looked up to. That night on Peace she'd been enamored with his dream and his conviction.

And there he was, asking her for her dream.

So often she surrendered to the will of the Force; it was easy to forget that she had a will of her own. Her own convictions brought forth the dream. Immaterial for now, but each passing moment made it more solid in her mind.

The pause was long, but eventually she spoke.

"At the Senate meeting -- when you first spoke, you said that..." Another pause, as she found the words. "'Our order is militant in nature.'

"That really scared me," she admitted.

"I mean, I'd just been thinking, wondering if even a moment of peace with the Sith could've solidified real change, even a hope for cooperation. But when Coren was holding that meeting, I... I was advocating for war, basically. And that scared me.

"It scares me that the Jedi might be known as conquerors, warriors; rather than peacekeepers and protectors. And those aren't mutually exclusive but more and more people see the Jedi as either weak or evil. You watch any of the Senate meetings, I mean -- as soon as I talk, some Senator tries to come at me, questioning if the Jedi are even allies of the Alliance." A little off topic, but she'd had those frustrations for a while. Ryv probably understood better than most.

"I don't want to be a warrior, even though I've seen battlefields across the galaxy. And I don't want to be seen as evil or complacent, like so many have accused the Silver Jedi of being.

"When people see a Jedi, I want them to feel safe. I don't want them to be afraid, or worried that the Jedi will only bring war or that our presence will draw the Sith. I want them to know that we'll always do our best to improve their lives, to help them, to keep them safe. Even when we're split, or disorganized, I want every Jedi to be doing good. No military thinking or political choices, just helping others, being moral.

"Setting an example for the galaxy."

 

[Ryv]

Ryv shifted on the floor to face her as she began to speak. He allowed himself the lavish comfort of the beanbag and pressed back against it. He tilted his head to the side, crossed his arms over his chest, and focused on each word. She had so much to say on the matter, and almost every sentence spoken packed an emotional punch. To think something he said would scare her summoned a pit into his stomach. Every part of him wanted the galaxy to be a better place for people like her, or Maynard, hell, even for the likes of Irveric Tavlar. But that desire could never change past mistakes or present failings. Like, you know, showing up to your ex-girlfriend's room in the middle of the night cause you didn't want to be alone—a real-deal Skywalker personality.

When her speech transitioned from her fears and their failings to dreams and desires, Ryv perked up. His knees now housed both arms as he leaned into every word. There was something different about listening to another speak about their hopes. It felt like she'd opened a window and allowed him to peer past all the crap she put between herself and the world.

He hadn't realized how much he missed that level of transparency and honesty with another person.

"Auteme, I-" he stuttered yet again, his mouth momentarily shaking as he struggled, and failed, to voice his thoughts. "Dammit."

"I don't get it. I can stand in front of the Senate, a war room, Sith Lords, and the leaders of Galactic nations, yet I can't just talk to people I care about. Weird, huh?" he asked. He resumed speaking, though much slower, his focus on deliberate and concise delivery of each word. "As I was saying, I don't want you to be scared due to the decisions I make, Auteme, but that's always been true. And it took a while, but I kinda figured out that's not something I can choose. Fear is just part of life. And we're all gonna feel it. I just don't want people to feel that way cause of the New Jedi Order. I want people to see us coming and cheer, not scream. It's just, right now, the galaxy isn't like that. Damned if we do, damned if we don't."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his holodevice. He checked the screen, scowled, and pressed down with his thumb. He didn't speak further until he returned it to said pocket.

"Sorry, uh, it reminds me to do things when it knows I'm out and about," Ryv dropped his chin onto his right knee and pulled it back until it pressed against his chest. "People are scared of us because we're different. We have these gifts that let do crazy things. No one can explain how it works, we included. Is the Force alive? Is it just a power we can pull from? Was it made, or did it just happen? I dunno about any of that stuff, but I do know we'll always be an oddity: one to fear, exploit, or both. I want that to stop happening. I want Jedi to choose their destiny. And I know for me, I want to stop people from suffering cause others are just bad folks. It's why I fight the Sith."

"I don't think working with the Sith would've brought peace to the galaxy. I think we would've just stopped fighting the people we know are evil, only to fear them stabbing us in the back while we fight crab people. I've advocated taking the fight to the Bryn'adul for years, and that won't stop. We just can't put the hope of the galaxy onto the backs of the Sith. They'll use the opportunity to get as many people killed as possible, weaken our defenses, turn around, and boom! Suddenly, a hidden fleet from some never-before-spoken planet will appear to rain hell on Coruscant and undo all the Alliance's work for the last few years."

"It's a vicious cycle. One that requires us to never drop our guard."

Auteme ​

 

[Auteme]

Ryv
​

Ryv's unfiltered honesty was something she could appreciate. Who else would come to her room in the middle of the night and tell her that she was someone he cared about?

Yeah, just a little bit awkward.

She nodded in response. Just as she'd expressed at the Senate meeting, it was the right choice to make -- the Sith couldn't be trusted. Even an informal alliance such as the 'Elder Council' was difficult to justify. Especially since it entailed a group of the galaxy's most powerful Force users making decisions that could affect nearly everyone with little to no oversight. That the Concord, a government supported by some of the best Jedi she knew, could be swayed into such an alliance...

Not to mention that the Alliance, New Imperials, First Order, Corporate Authorities of Denon, Mandalorian Union, and Eternal Empire were ignored by the three 'greatest' nations on the galactic stage. If the peace had extended there; if everyone could agree to stop the Bryn'adûl, she wouldn't think twice. But this smelled of political maneuvering and fearmongering. She hoped they'd managed to stop it in time to pause the machinations of the Sith.

Still, she was afraid. Afraid that the damage was irreparable. Or worse, that the damage had been there far longer -- eroding the galaxy's trust in the Jedi ever since the rise of the Empire or even before. She was afraid Ryv wasn't telling her something, that he still carried those invisible wounds, things she'd never be able to heal. She was afraid she wouldn't be alive to see the change she wanted to inspire in the galaxy.

She breathed deeply, finding that space where she could accept those things. Fear was a part of life.

"Someday," she said, "I want us to be able to do that. Drop our guard. Trust the people around us, outside the Jedi. I've found myself... making assumptions, giving in to factionalism, only to realize and just feel sick.

"But yeah. Making sure that we aren't feared -- respected, known, but never feared -- that's what we should focus on."

She looked at him for a long few moments. The Force whispered; she listened. "That's not what woke you up, though, is it?

"Are you doing alright?"

What a terrible question to ask.

 

[Ryv]

"Uh..." Ryv blinked. "What a question."

He fidgeted again and crossed his legs. "You know how it is. Life never gets easier. Always another battle, always another problem, rarely somebody else who can handle em. I mean, I've got an entire nation of people who hate me cause they think I'm a warmonger. Can't say I blame em for thinking that way. It's just one battlefield after another, but they dilute the reason with their own nonsense. Feels like every day is an uphill battle. I've got the Silver Jedi Concord throwing in with the Sith. That's dumb on its own, but war preparation definitely doesn't make any of that easier to deal with. And now you've got Jedi like Starchaser pleading with the galaxy to trust the Sith? Gimme a break."

Ryv stood up at that and began to pace across the room. He became rather animated as he continued, his hands moving back and forth as if he were in the middle of a verbal brawl.

"Obviously, that's not gonna happen. At least not here, not with us. NJO is gonna be that beacon in the dark until we can finally have peace and let our guard down, but, uh," he paused and searched his mind for the right words. "I'm definitely feeling overwhelmed. Though, I've felt that way since the day Wyatt knighted me. Not much change on that front. I've actually, well, I met someone recently. She sorta convinced me I need to be better about living in the moment and letting people in. So, I'm kinda here for that, I guess? You're the most reliable person I know. And if ever there is gonna be someone I'd put my faith in to do the things I can't, it's gotta be you."

With that, he stopped pacing and turned to look at her. "I've been having a lot of nightmares. When I was held prisoner, you know, a Sith tortured me. Cut me up real good. We've talked about that, but, well, those memories haven't ever gone away. They kinda just kick it in my brain and pop up here and there to remind me I'm still messed up."

He raised both arms, one cybernetic, the other flesh and blood, and sighed. He ran his replacement fingers along dozens of small lines on his right arm. The scars crisscrossed through his tattooed flesh, passed up and over his shoulder, to disappear beneath his shirt or at the base of his skull. His fleshy fingers drifted to the cybernetic next. Almost methodically, the kiffar traced the metallic plating along the forearm until he found ruined muscle. Where the prosthetic met his skin, it rippled in wave-like contusions all around the arm. His index finger lazily ran over each ridge. He said nothing as he explored what had become of his body, his conscious clearly somewhere else for a moment.

Eventually, the Jedi Knight blinked and returned to the present. He looked back at Auteme and smiled sheepishly.

"I just want some company. You know? Someone who gets it."

Auteme ​

 

[Auteme]

Ryv
​

"I get it," she said. A sheepish smile crossed her face to match his. "I get it."

She paused for a moment. Her expression sobered. "It's... pretty messed up, that I get it."

How much had they been through? Battle after battle. Negotiations, adventures, meeting nearly every major Sith and Jedi in the galaxy. She'd watched her friends limp back home covered in wounds. She'd seen slaughter of civilians. She'd felt the deaths of nearly every Sith on Bastion. She was twenty.

She had no idea how she kept herself together. She had no idea how any of them did. Stunning victories and crushing defeats. Life never gets easier.

"I could... get you a new arm, you know. It'd fit as well as the old one." Her hands fell into her lap. "But that's not really the whole problem."

It'd been the problem last time. Last time he'd come in, confessed his dreams and nightmares and feelings, she thought that she was solution to it. To him. She'd thought: if she was the most reliable person he knew, she'd have to help him in every way. She needed to be there for him whenever he was down. Do everything he couldn't and more. Keep him on track, keep healing him, keep waking up in the middle of the night to comfort him when the demons came to get him.

That approach had hurt her; that feeling that he needed to be saved and she was the only one who could do it. She loved him, cared about him -- but she couldn't be everything, not for him, not for anyone. Not every time. When she'd realized that it was as if an enormous burden had been lifted from her shoulders. And she could just be. She could care.

"Ryv, you know I'm here for you, but... have you ever considered looking for professional help? Nothing too intense, I- I know a few people. From the university. I might be the most reliable person you know, but I can't do everything.

"I tried," she said.

"I want there to be a time where you can just... be. Be, and be happy, and not worry about the next battle or problem or if someone's going to be there to handle it. You've got some great friends, just... sometimes it's not enough."