First Reply The Virtues of Self-Care

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Open to a Jedi

It was late in the evening when Gatz stepped off the ramp of his ship, and onto the hangar deck of The Vonnuvi's Enclave. He was battered and bruised, yellow and purple coloration dotting his features as bruises settled in. Rough linen bandages traced his arms, and another clung to his forehead above his left eye, covering a particularly painful gash. They had long since stopped being fresh, and they were in need of being changed. Though Gatz wanted nothing more than to return to his quarters, and to crash into bed, he knew his first stop needed to be the medical bay.

Part of promising Amani Serys and Inanna Harth that he would take better care of himself was to, well, take better care of himself. Plus, what kind of idiot would risk the chance of infection, just because they were too lazy to change a few bandages?

Wiping at tired eyes, Gatz silently traveled down the halls in the East Wing that had become all too familiar to him. The Vonnuvi was... he struggled to use the word "home," because home ought to be where his loved ones were. He didn't have those anymore. They were dead and gone, and so nowhere was home. But the Chief Healer's enclave was as close as he could come to one, and he felt comfortable here.

Domicile. That's what he'd call it for now.

Gatz stepped into the Medical Bay, assuming that the ever-present medical droid would be around, even if a proper Jedi healer wasn't.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Into the medical bay tramped the Chief Healer's apprentice, instantly recognizable by her dyed purple hair. At seventeen she was already six foot two, towering over many of the grown men around her. Clad in medical scrubs with an ID pinned to her shirt that read Assistant Healer, she moved with purpose, clearly on an important mission of some sort...

... to the vending machine in the waiting room. She inserted a few creds, pressed a button, and retrieved a candy bar from the chute. While she tore open the wrapper, her gaze wandered over the patients waiting to be seen. Green eyes gravitated toward a rugged blond man in a red jacket who looked like someone had tried to rearrange his crooked teeth with their fists and feet.

"You," she commanded, pointing a finger at him. "Follow me."

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

Oh hey, was that Eloise? Gatz hadn't spoken to her since Briana's Life Day party back on Naboo. It was... also kind of the only time he'd met her, but he'd seen her in passing on The Vonnuvi. How could he not? So, distracted from his mission of changing his bandages, he gave her an awkward wave. It was really only awkward because of the state his face was in, but Eloise had struck him as someone who generally didn't give a shit.

"Hi. Long time no see?" Well, more like long time no talk. But really, what else did you say as a greeting to someone you knew but didn't know?

"You," she commanded, pointing a finger at him. "Follow me."

Gatz sighed. These were injuries he could take care of himself—he might have been a remedial Jedi Healer, but his medical experience was more than enough for the bruises and cuts that marred his face. Still... self-diagnosis and self-treatment were typically frowned upon, even by medical professionals themselves. So, he gave in without much of a fight, and trudged along behind the purple-haired Jedi.

"...I want the record to show that I'm only obeying because both your master and mine would be exasperated with me if I didn't."

 

[Eloise Dinn]

"Hi. Long time no see?"

Leading the way through the Halls of Healing, Eloise's gaze flicked toward the man, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember where she had seen him before. "... Are you that guy who was slobbering all over that Zeltron skank at the gala?" she asked. Despite the inflammatory wording, she spoke dryly as if she were simply stating facts; if there were any trace amounts of disdain in her tone, it was aimed at Lossa rather than at him.

"...I want the record to show that I'm only obeying because both your master and mine would be exasperated with me if I didn't."

What was that supposed to mean? Did he doubt her abilities just because she was young? Rolling her eyes, she said, "You come to the Halls, you're gonna get healed. Now sit down."

She had led him to an exam room, where a worn exam chair covered in just-changed wax paper awaited his scrawny ass. Sensors reacting to his presence would activate scanners, which began taking readings. "Vitals are good. What happened to your face?"

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

"... Are you that guy who was slobbering all over that Zeltron skank at the gala?"

Gatz winced at that particular description of Lossa. Especially considering the broken state she'd been in on that day. But, truth be told, he was too tired to snap back at Eloise... and snapping back at her wouldn't have been the action a proper Jedi would take anyhow. He wasn't a proper Jedi, true, but he ought to at least try to be.

"Her name is Lossa," he said with a sigh, "and she's not a skank. And I hugged her, not slobbered over her. But yes, that was me."

Gatz settled himself down in the chair without any fuss. He was already here, it was better to be looked at by someone else than just by himself, and Eloise was literally the student of the best Jedi Healer to ever Jedi Heal. So, prickly attitude or not, he figured it was best just to let the teen examine him, and then send him on his way.

"Eh, had a disagreement with a few raiders back in my hometown," Gatz shrugged, with an answer to her question, "they wanted to raid some farms for their harvests and livestock, and I didn't want them to do that. They, uh, weren't interest in talking about it, so..."

Gatz motioned to his bruised face.

"We had to settle it the Nar Shaddaa way. Not my preference, but those farmers and their livelihoods are safe now."

 

[Eloise Dinn]

"I know her name," Eloise retorted. And she was most definitely a skank, in addition to looking like she was made out of pink plastic. But there was no point in starting chit over Lossa, so she dropped the subject.

He explained that he had gotten his ass kicked by raiders who were raiding a farm. But from the sound of it, the raiders were dead and, according to the scanners, this guy wasn't. She checked his name. Gatz Derrevar. Gatz, like the slang term for a gun? What goofy parents he must've had.

"Based. Where did this happen again?" she asked. Not because she cared, but because she'd have to run the location through a database to see if there were any deadly microbes in the area that might've infected him or his wounds.

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

Based?

Gatz was starting to think that he no longer vibed with the galaxy's youth. He didn't think anything about killing people—even raiders—was worthy of praise... or whatever it was Eloise was offering. Still, the people hurting other people couldn't do that anymore, and the people not hurting people were safe and with their homes and families intact. That was still a victory, even if he had hoped for an outcome with less bloodshed.

"Happened on Naboo. Jewel of the Mid Rim, very habitable world," Gatz promised, "I'm not saying these cuts can't be infected, but I'm not bringing home any dangerous microbe or pathogen."

Not this time, anyways, but Gatz wouldn't fault Eloise for being thorough. Rough attitude aside, she was a meticulous healer. Then again, considering who was training her, Gatz thought it'd be more surprising if she wasn't. So, convinced that he was in safe hands, he let her scuttle about. It was easier to have his wounds taken care of than to take care of them himself.

And... both her master and his own had very recently reminded him of the importance of asking for help.

"How'd you come to the Order, Eloise?"

Perhaps not his business, but this would be a hell of a lot less awkward for the both of them if he made some small talk. Plus... honestly he was just curious. She didn't strike him as the type who'd grown up in the Order. More like the type who'd joined at a later age.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

"I'm not saying these cuts can't be infected, but I'm not bringing home any dangerous microbe or pathogen."

Eloise's green-eyed gaze sharpened with suspicion. She hadn't said anything about why she had asked. Then again, maybe he was used to the whole process and knew from experience what she was really looking for. "Be more specific. Where on Naboo?..."

While he answered, she typed. The database search came up empty; nothing there but the usual microscopic suspects. She gave his immune system a boost with a quick shot, then got to work changing the bandages. "Have you been using bacta on these?" she asked.

"How'd you come to the Order, Eloise?"

Her initial reaction was to snap at him that it was none of his business. Force of habit. People tended to react badly when she told them about her past. Besides, he was a patient, not a friend. But she bit her tongue, hesitating before replying, "I grew up on a planet that you won't find on any maps. My parents were part of a group of Sith who had taken control of the world and had the natives worshiping them as gods. When I was fifteen I ran away. Wound up staying with an old friend of the family who also happened to be a Jedi. He suggested I join the Order. I could tell he didn't want me hanging around forever, and I had nothing better to do, so I said sure, feth it. Amani recognized who I was, made me her apprentice, and to make a long story short..."

She ripped off a bandage so fast he'd probably hardly feel it. "Now I'm here."

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

"Lake Country," Gatz answered easily, "no bacta. Washed with soap and water, antibiotic ointment to prevent infection, and a clean linen bandage. Honestly, even I could have healed these handful of blemishes. But Force Healing can be dangerous when you're already exhausted."

That was pretty much the first thing Eloise's master had taught him. It was also pretty much the only lesson she'd taught him that he'd absorbed. The rest of them were either beyond his ability to understand, or needed to be pounded into his brain with a mallet. Even now, Gatz wasn't sure where to draw the line when it came to his own exhaustion. At what point was it acceptable to stop when someone—

No, he stopped himself, dwell on that later.

Instead of retreating into his own doubt and anxieties, he busied himself with listening to Eloise's story closely. Much of it was surprising, especially the whole being born to Sith part. But, hey, she wasn't the first Sith to find herself on the path of a Jedi, now was she? Funny enough, he found that he could empathize with the end of her story: the part where the Chief Healer saw someone with a sordid past and decided that there was more to them.

A bandage was ripped off of him. Gatz merely blinked.

"Couldn't have been easy, leaving the only life you've ever know," Gatz said softly, "I know a little something about that too. But, rough past or not, I'm willing to wager you'll make a fine Jedi. Even if your manners could use some work."

He smiled as he ribbed her a little bit.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Linen bandages? What was this, the Gulag Era? And who in this day and age didn't use bacta to speed up the healing process? Unless he was allergic, which he presumably would've mentioned already. Eh, maybe it was all he had on hand out in the middle of this "Lake Country".

At any rate, his wounds were relatively minor. She grabbed a bottle of bacta and sprayed down the largest cuts and abrasions, then methodically treated the rest. Gatz commented on her story, trying to be encouraging even as he criticized her manners. She smirked.

"I don't plan on sticking with this healing schtick, if that's any comfort," she said. "I'm going to be a Shadow or a Guardian. Fight the bad guys, kick a lot of ass. You'll not have to deal with my bedside manner ever again—unless we fight on the same battlefield together."

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

Shadow.

Gatz waited for the fear to set in. Waited for the images long suppressed in his mind to unbury themselves; for him to relive that moment from his childhood. And yet, he felt nothing. No panic bubbling in his chest, no sudden labored breathing, not even a single tremble. Was he over that old fear now? Had he finally seen enough to dismiss that memory he'd held onto for fifteen long years?

Or had he finally become too selfish to care about a Jedi Shadow cutting down a boy?

"A shame," Gatz offered a smile, one that was surprisingly real, "you seem awfully good at all of this. But if that's really what you want, then you have to chase it. Don't ever let someone stop you."

But what did he want? What kind of Jedi did he want to be? Rough bedside manner or not, Eloise had that question figured out far better than he did. Gatz thought that he wanted to be a Jedi Healer, thought that was the whole reason he'd returned in the first place but... as time went on, it was becoming apparent that dream just might not be in the cards.

Master Harth had told him that she'd once felt similarly to him: like she wasn't good for much. But that she'd found contentment in focusing on the few things she was good at. Gatz didn't like the things he was good at. And yet, he wondered if there still wasn't wisdom to be found in her words, even if he might not ever enjoy the lightsaber.

"Thank you, Eloise," Gatz said suddenly, "not just for patching me up, but... you've given me something to think on, without even meaning to."

He snorted a little at that.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

"A shame. You seem awfully good at all of this."

"What, reading from a screen and typing stuff up?" she asked, snorting. Half her job was basic triage and making sure patients' names were spelled correctly. "Don't worry, I've got that covered. Nobody tells me what to do."

"Thank you, Eloise. Not just for patching me up, but... you've given me something to think on, without even meaning to."

"Okay..." She shot him a funny look, ripping off the last of the bandages and quickly treating the minor but painful scrape underneath. "You're all done. Now get the feth out."

Gatz Derrevar​