Abandoned by Destiny

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[abandoned-by-destiny]

“A small step, the one that determines destiny often is.”  Yoda to the Jedi Council in Dark Disciple Abandon: to give up completely a course of action, a practice, or a way of thinking

Abandoned by Destiny

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divider by: @galacticgraffiti

Book 1: Forged by War

Meet the OCs

Lyra Amidala Naberrie

Brynn Clarke

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 3

fic masterlist // series masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Relationships: Commander Wolffe/fem!Jedi!OC (it’s about the slow burn y'all)

Rating: Mature (this fic as a whole is still Explicit/18+ so if you are a minor pls GTFO)

Tags/Warnings: death, corpses, blood, injuries, canon-typical violence (listen it's the Malevolence Arc, you know what's about to happen)

Word Count: 6k (ahahahahha i know i know alright)

divider by: @djarrex

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Year: 22 BBY // Five Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It’s the silence, Lyra’s decided. Space has always been quiet, but the quiet doesn’t bother her. The silence, though. 

Lyra stares up at the ceiling of the escape pod that she’s stuck in, laying on the floor. She’s enjoying the artificial gravity, for as long as she can. She’s going to have to turn it off in approximately fifty-five minutes, to reserve power for the life support system. Air to breathe is more important than gravity.

Lyra refuses to look out the viewport of the escape pod. If she could cover it, she would. She already knows what’s floating past the glass, bumping into her escape pod every few seconds. She doesn’t need to keep seeing it. She resists the urge to look at the chrono on her wrist. She’s pretty sure it’s still been five hours, seven minutes, and approximately thirty-six seconds since… since Malevolence.

Location: The Triumphant in Hyperspace // Approximately Five Hours Earlier

“That’s why your name is Stitches?” Lyra all but yells across the medbay at the clone medic in question. Stitches shrugs his shoulders while spinning a stylus between his fingers as he avoids doing the inventory Lyra asked him for earlier. 

“It made sense and I thought it was funny.” Stitches smiles as Lyra rolls her eyes. The large ship shudders slightly and they both look around. “Feels like we just dropped out of hyperspace. Shouldn’t you be on the bridge?” Lyra huffs and stands up, walking over to the supply tower in the center of the large medbay. 

“Plo doesn’t need me up there. Besides, Commander Wolffe doesn’t want me anywhere near that bridge. He made that very clear.” Lyra looks at her own datapad and starts doing the inventory herself, as she does her best to keep her feelings to herself. She reaches up and taps her earcomm twice, tuning into the bridge’s surveillance system so she can hear Plo and Wolffe. 

“-large energy reading from the target, sir.” Lyra’s fingers still in the bin full of gauze as she hears Wolffe speaking. 

“They found it.” She whispers and Stitches looks up from across the room. 

“The weapon?” He asks, standing up finally and walking towards her. She nods and transfers the audio to her wrist comm so Stitches can listen with her. 

“Open fire.” Plo’s voice sounds calm, but Lyra can detect the slightest undercurrent of fear. 

“We’re not in range yet, sir.” Wolffe replies and Lyra feels a tremor in the Force. The hair in her arms stands up and she suddenly senses a strong urge to run. She grabs Stitches wrist, who balks in surprise.

“Brace for impact!” Plo is now clearly shouting, but his warning is too late. All the power in the medbay flickers and then shuts off. Stitches runs to the doors and holds them open, because the power loss causes a quarantine shutdown in the medbay. Lyra bolts to the bacta tanks and tries to turn on the emergency generator, with no luck. The doors slide back open, and Stitches turns to face Lyra and panic wipes across her face.

“The shields.” She almost whispers it, but Stitches hears her. 

“-as left us defenseless!” Wolffe’s voice shouts from Lyra’s wrist, her comm barely holding on to the signal. “They’re tearing us apart, one by one.” He finishes as a loud crashing sound echoes from somewhere.

“The other ships in the fleet…” Stitches trails off as Lyra starts thinking about the two teams of medics under her command on the other two ships. She starts to reach for them in the Force when a wave of death almost knocks her off her feet. She stumbles backwards and Stitches catches her. 

“Quickly! Into the pods!” They both hear Plo shout before Lyra’s comm finally fizzles out. Lyra grabs Stitches by the arm and they both start sprinting. Lyra can see red hot fissures start to appear in the hallway as they run.

“We’re running out of time!” Lyra yells as they sprint around the corner. There’s only one pod left and that’s when Lyra remembers that the pods have to be launched from an exterior control panel. The moment the thought enters her mind, she’s lifted off the ground. She lands on her hands and knees on the inside of the pod, and turns to see Stitches already closing the hatch. “No!” Lyra shrieks and tries to stop him, but it’s too late. She slams into the hatch, tears streaming down her face. Stitches looks down at the control panel and then back up at her. 

“Keep my brothers safe for me, vod’ika. Okay?” He says something in a different language and hits the panel. Lyra watches through her tears as her escape pod is jettisoned from the ship. Barely a second later, the Triumphant explodes in front of her eyes. 

She can see bodies being flung into open space by the force of the explosion. She turns away from the small viewport at the back of the pod and looks through the large viewport at the front.

It takes her a moment to realize that the noise she’s hearing is a scream from her own throat. Her entire focus is locked on the view out her front viewport. 

Clones. Soldiers. Men she was responsible for keeping alive. Floating. Suffocated. Dead by the thousands.

Lyra collapses, sobs ripping from her throat. She pounds her hands against the durasteel grate of the floor in frustration and anger and grief. She tears at her robes, gashing holes in them.

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Two Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It takes her two hours to stop crying. To pull herself off the floor and start taking inventory of her supplies. 

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Three Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It takes her another hour to mask her power supply and set up an emergency beacon. The power supply was already damaged from the energy pulse that shut down the Triumphant, but mechanics were never her strong suit. She realizes that she’s running out of power and so she starts planning how much longer she thinks she can survive in this tiny pod. She sits next to the transmitter for longer than she will ever admit, praying to hear a voice. 

She doesn’t.

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Four Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It is four hours, nine minutes, and about twelve seconds after the Triumphant explosion when the pod hunters find her. She channels her grief into the Force and rips the droids apart with frightening ease. She can feel a crackling of electricity in her veins, and a terrifying low voice whispering in the back of her mind about how good it feels to unleash her anger. 

Lyra lays down on the floor afterwards and closes her eyes. She reaches a mental hand out to the Living Force, away from the voice in the back of her mind. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra whispers into the air.

The Living Force envelops her and she swears she can feel cool fingers run across her brow and down her cheek. A few tears slide out of her eyes and pool in her ears as she feels the warm light radiate through her mind, casting out the low voice. She lets the light radiate down through her whole being, physical and spiritual, as she falls into meditation.

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Six Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

Lyra stays in meditation until her chrono beeps; telling her it’s officially time to turn off the artificial gravity. She sits up and sighs as she tears a long strip of fabric from the bottom of her tunic. She ties one end around her ankle and the other around the back of the pilot’s chair. She wastes time double checking that her emergency beacon is still active and waits for a few seconds to see if she hears a voice. 

She doesn’t. 

She pushes a few more buttons to redirect the leftover power from the artificial gravity to her oxygen recycler and takes one more deep breath. She relishes the feeling of her feet on the ground, of her weight being anchored to something, and flips the switch. Her body floats up in the air, and Lyra tries to center herself when she remembers that she can’t do that without gravity. The tether on her ankle pulls taut and Lyra is left floating mostly horizontal in the center of the escape pod. Her loose robes drift around her body, blocking her vision. 

Lyra closes her eyes and feels the tears float off her cheeks as she starts crying again. How did she get here? How had this become her life? Could Yoda have been right all those years ago? She hears the echo of his voice in the back of her mind, at the center of all her insecurities.  

“Ready to be a Jedi, she is not.” 

“Not fit for service, you are.”

“Being attached to them, caring for your family means, youngling. Forsake these dangerous attachments, you must.” 

She brings a hand up to wipe away her tears, and accidentally catches a glimpse of what is outside the front viewport again. Lyra’s silent tears turn into hiccupping sobs as she sees Stitches’ body thud into the glass once, and then twice before drifting out of sight. Stitches had no choice in being on the ship today. None of the clones did.  

Lyra tries to calm her breathing down by praying for all the men she lost today. That’s the last thing she remembers doing before drifting off to sleep.

Location: Scout Ship in Abregado Airspace // Eight Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

Lyra blinks awake and winces away from the bright light shining through the pod’s viewport. She realizes that she’s facedown on the floor, and as she tries to sit up, she hears the screech of metal being pulled apart from her left. 

“General?” Lyra hears a voice she doesn’t recognize as she feels a cool hand brush across her forehead and down the side of her face. Lyra’s nose erupts in pain as she speaks, and she registers for the first time the amount of blood pooled on her face. Her vision is blurry, nothing but shadows moving around as she tries to reach out for whoever found her. 

“Stitches?” Lyra manages to get the name out as she feels two arms lift her up and start carrying her out of the escape pod. 

“You might need stitches, Naberrie, but you definitely need some water and oxygen.” A new voice says, and it takes a moment before it sinks in. 

“Skywalker?” Lyra feels her body get laid down on a table. “Why are you dead?” She hears him snort as her vision slowly returns, and she looks down to see an IV in her arm and a medical droid hovering over her. “Holy shit.” Lyra’s head hits the pillow as she stares at the ceiling in shock. 

“Language, Lyra, small ears are in the room.” Lyra turns her head to see Anakin Skywalker leaning against a counter across a very small room. He’s smiling, but Lyra can feel the worry radiating from him and from someone else. Lyra shifts her head to see a small Togruta girl standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. 

“Small ears, Master?” The girl speaks and Lyra can hear a hint of Anakin’s own signature sarcasm in her voice. 

“Zip it, Snips.” Anakin’s response is drenched in the aforementioned sarcasm. Lyra brings her hands up to her face to wipe away her tears, but winces when her fingers brush against her nose. It’s then that she realizes the liquid pooling under her eyes isn’t tears, it’s blood. “I’d hold off on touching your face, at least until the droid sets your nose.” Lyra bats away the hands of the meddroid and sits up on the bed. 

“I can set my own nose, Skywalker.” Lyra tries to sound strong, but even she can hear the quiver in her voice. The girl in the door takes a few steps forward, arms slightly outstretched as if to catch Lyra if she falls. Anakin huffs and takes two big steps across the room.  

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” He looks like he wants to say more, but a glance over his shoulder at the girl stops him. “Ahsoka, go back to the cockpit and see if we’re picking up any more emergency signals.” Lyra turns to watch her as the girl, Ahsoka, perks up at being given a job. 

“Yes, Master!” She chirps and darts out the door. Lyra raises an eyebrow. 

“And Padme would have my head if I let you set your own broken nose.” Anakin finishes his thought once his Padawan is out of earshot. 

“Or something else.” Lyra concedes and cracks a smile at Anakin’s offended gasp. “I still can’t believe they gave you a Padawan.” She says under her breath and is met with a sharp burst of pain. “Ow!” She flinches away from Anakin’s fingers and grabs her newly set nose. “That was uncalled for.” She mutters as she runs her fingers at the edges of the jagged cut across the bridge of her nose. Anakin shrugs indifferently at her pain and holds his hands out again. 

“Let me heal you up.” Lyra backs away and raises her eyebrows again. 

“You don’t know how to Force heal.” Anakin sputters at her sentence. 

“It can’t be that hard.” He brushes away her concern.

“It can literally kill you if you do it wrong– Hey!” Lyra starts to pull back again as Ahsoka comes back to the door. 

“Master? There’s a comm for you.” Anakin straightens up and makes one last face at Lyra before leaving the room. “Do you need anything?” Ahsoka’s voice is kind and Lyra can’t help but smile.  

“Can you find a mirror and bring it to me?” Lyra asks and Ahsoka takes a moment to search the room and brings Lyra a small mirror and two packages of something. 

“We don’t have a lot on board, because this is just a scout vessel, but these should help!” Ahsoka starts to unwrap a package of towels to clean off the blood and Lyra sees the small container of dermobacta next to her.  

“This is perfect, thank you.” Lyra gratefully takes the wipes and clears the pooled blood from under her eyes. 

“I can assist you.” The meddroid speaks up from next to Lyra’s bed, but she waves it off.  

“A shock blanket would be nice.” She smiles at the droid who spins away towards a cabinet. Lyra takes the mirror and holds it up so she can get a good look at the gash on her nose. She rests her fingers against the gash and closes her eyes. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra starts chanting and she feels the familiar warmth bloom through her body. She focuses on the cut, stitching the edges down and encouraging the growth of the scar tissue. She hears Ahsoka’s voice join her on the last refrain of her prayer.  

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra opens her eyes to see the last few sparks of golden energy fade away from the now pink scar cutting across her nose.  

“Not bad.” Lyra wipes the last few traces of blood away and turns to see Ahsoka watching her with wide eyes. 

“I’ve only ever seen Healer Allie do that.” She whispers and Lyra cracks a smile.  

“I’ll teach you a bit, if I get the chance.” Lyra nudges Ahsoka with her shoulder as she hops off the exam table. Lyra pulls the shock blanket from the meddroid’s hands and wraps it around herself. “Let’s go find your master.” Ahsoka smiles at the offer and leads Lyra to the cockpit.  

“I decided we couldn’t just give up on Master Plo, Healer Naberrie, or their men.” Anakin says as Lyra and Ahsoka enter the cockpit.  

“A noble gesture, Anakin. But the council feels your nobility may put others in danger. Please listen to me, Anakin. Return at once.” The hologram of the Chancellor implores Anakin as Ahsoka sits back down in the copilot chair. Lyra leans against the doorway and does her best to hide her surprise at Anakin being on a first name basis with the Supreme Chancellor.

“Yes, Excellency.” Anakin nods and the holo flickers off. Ahsoka looks shocked at Anakin’s response. “Time to go, Ahsoka.” Lyra doesn’t move from the doorway. 

“We have to stay!” Ahsoka gestures out towards the viewport. “We found Healer Naberrie, Master Plo has to be out there.”  

“Ahsoka,” Lyra pipes up from behind them, “I want to believe Master Plo’s alive more than anyone, but I just--” Ahsoka spins away from her and grabs onto the controls. 

“I know he’s alive! I can sense it.” Ahsoka says firmly as she flips a switch and starts piloting the ship herself. Lyra slams into the opposite side of the doorway as Ahsoka swerves the ship through the debris field. 

“Ahsoka!” Anakin shouts as he is tossed from his chair to the floor, away from his own controls. Lyra can barely hear him over the ringing in her own ears and the screech of R2 as the small astromech slides across the cockpit floor. Ahsoka rights the ship a few moments later and Lyra feels the equivalent of a flash of blinding light in the Force. 

“There!” Lyra shouts, pointing her finger in the direction of the flash. Ahsoka swings the ship around again, and through the viewport they see Master Plo and two clone troopers outside an escape pod, with another figure inside. Anakin makes it back to his seat and takes control of the ship back from Ahsoka. 

“Ready tow cable.” He says, the exhaustion clear in his voice. Ahsoka jumps up from her seat and runs to the back wall. 

“Cable loaded, Master.” Ahsoka beams as Anakin gets them in position. She fires the tow cable and turns to Lyra, her excitement flowing off of her in waves. “C’mon!” She takes off at a run down the short hallway to the cargo bay. Anakin stops at the doorway and puts his hand on Lyra’s shoulder. 

“She reminds me of you.” Lyra quips out, her breath still heavy and her ears still ringing.  

“Don’t have to tell me that.” Anakin huffs out under his breath as Ahsoka opens the door. 

“Are you okay, Master Plo? There's someone in the pod!” Lyra brushes Anakin’s hand off her shoulder at Ahsoka’s words and leans against the wall to make it to the doorway. Ahsoka is kneeling on the floor next to Plo, who is coughing on the ground. 

Lyra reaches a hand out towards the escape pod and tears off the viewport as two troopers slide off the top. Commander Wolffe falls forward and starts coughing. Anakin rushes forward and catches him before he hits the ground. Lyra leans against the door, stars finally starting to fade from her vision and the ringing in her ears starting to slow. Anakin turns to the meddroid as it gently pushes past Lyra to enter the airlock.

“Will they be alright?” Anakin directs his question to the droid, but before the ancient machine can answer, Lyra pipes up.

“Their suits are pressurized, which should have offered some protection, but they’ll need Force healing or a medical frigate for recovery.” At the sound of her voice, Plo pulls away from Ahsoka’s hug and looks up at her. 

“Lyra.” His voice is gravelly and Lyra takes a few steps forwards and drops to her knees next to Ahsoka. 

“Master.” She whispers, and then reaches forward to pull him into a hug. Plo wraps his arms around her and squeezes tightly, and Lyra can feel the tears finally starting to pool in the corners of her eyes.

“I‘ve been so worried.” Plo says, not breaking the hug. “Were there any other survivors?” Lyra pulls away and wipes at the corners of her eyes, feeling much more like a scared Padawan than a General in an army.

“We couldn’t find anybody else. I was alone in my pod.” Lyra feels Ahsoka’s hand rest on her shoulder as Plo takes a good look at Lyra. He raises a hand and hovers a few fingers over the fresh scar on her nose, sighing.

“The hunters must have destroyed the rest.” A weak voice says, and Lyra turns her head to see Commander Wolffe leaning against the pod with the other two troopers. 

“I’m sorry, Master Plo.” Ahsoka says, and Lyra winces slightly. She rises from her knees and walks over to the three clones as Anakin and Ahsoka usher Plo away to the cockpit. Lyra takes the blanket from her shoulders and wraps it around Wolffe. He barely moves. 

“We need the rest of the shock blankets. And any extra oxygen you have on board.” Lyra turns to the meddroid and rattles off the things she needs. It turns and walks back into the hallway, leaving Lyra alone with the three troopers, the last remaining troopers of the 104th. Wolffe won’t make eye contact with her, but the other two are looking at her expectantly. Lyra remembers briefly, the meeting she had when her and Plo joined the 104th, and got introduced to all the commanding officers. “It’s Boost and Sinker, right?” She asks and then two men take off their helmets. 

“Yes, sir.” Boost replies. Lyra winces slightly at the honorific.

“Please, just call me Lyra.” She asks and reaches out her hands for both men. “May I?” They look confused, but reach out a hand and grab onto her. Lyra feels the Force humming through their bodies and closes her eyes. “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” She chants the phrase as she pushes the Living Force through their forms, boosting the production of hemoglobin to increase oxygen intake and sealing up any wounds or bruises they had. They both take deep breaths and settle back against the pod as Lyra finishes her chant and opens her eyes. 

Boost and Sinker both have their eyes closed, but Wolffe is looking at Lyra. She turns as the warm glow fades from her hands and arms, and sees Wolffe looking at her with his mouth slightly open. She kneels in front of him, and reaches for his shoulders when the lights in the airlock flicker off.

“Hey, what’s with the lights?” Boost calls out to the meddroid as it reenters the room. 

“The power’s gone out.” Wolffe says, sitting up straighter. “Maybe that ship has returned. We should get up to the bridge.” He tries to push off the ground, but falls back against the escape pod.

“Absolutely not. You’re too weak.” Lyra stands again, determinedly ignoring her own shaky rise. She walks over to the meddroid and shuts it off, and lifts the supplies out of its arms. “I’ll go see what’s going on.” She places the blankets and oxygen tanks on the floor between the three men and starts walking back towards the hallway. She opens the door as she hears Ahsoka’s voice carry through from the cockpit.

“They’re coming back!” She sounds nervous and Lyra sees Anakin tighten his grip on the flight controls. 

“We’ve got to get the power back on, now!” Ahsoka jumps up at Anakin’s words and starts turning the ship back on. Anakin turns over his shoulder to see Lyra in the doorway, and shouts. “Brace yourselves back there!” 

“On what?” Lyra shouts back, gripping the door frame as Anakin swings the ship around. 

“Anything!” He yells over his shoulder, “R2, program the navicomputer. Get ready to get us out of here!” He turns his head to shout at the astromech and Lyra watches his face fall.

“You for-got.” Lyra hears Ahsoka sing the words at Anakin and then drop into a deadpan. “We turned him off.” Lyra ignores the look Anakin gives Ahsoka and turns back to the clones. 

“How are you feeling?” She directs her question at the two clones she had already healed. They had both stood up at Anakin’s shout. 

“Better.” Sinker says, and Boost nods in agreement. 

“Good. Can you help him to the side closet?” She gestures towards the Commander still on the ground. “I can heal him once we get up there.” They both nod silently and hoist Wolffe up onto their shoulders. Lyra slides to the side so they could get through the door before her and takes one last look at the two escape pods in the airlock before closing the door behind them. They deposit Wolffe on the same small cot and step aside for Lyra. Wolffe tries to stand up, but falls back onto the cot. The two troopers rush to grab his shoulders but Lyra beats them to it. 

“Will he be alright?” Sinker asks. Lyra looks at him.

“Yes. I promise.” He doesn’t look very sure as his eyes flick back to his unconscious Commander. Lyra takes a step towards him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I promise, Sinker.” She repeats, and Sinker inhales deeply.

“Of course, sir.” He says and Lyra flinches slightly at the honorific.

“Just Lyra, please. We’re all the same here.” She squeezes his shoulder. “Sinker, can you take Boost and head up to the cockpit? I’ve got everything handled here.” Sinker lets out a deep breath at her words and nods. “Thank you.” She says as both men leave the room. She turns back to Commander Wolffe on the bed, trying again to sit up.

“They need me.” Wolffe breathes out, barely making it through the sentence. Lyra pushes him gently back onto the cot.

“You’ll be no help to them now. Let me heal you.” Wolffe flinches away from Lyra’s hands and she sighs. “Commander, I’m just trying to help.”

“I’m fine.” Wolffe says gruffly, weakly batting away Lyra’s hands. Lyra huffs again. 

“Commander, you are not fine. You just spent eight hours in an escape pod with a failing life support system and barely any gravity.” Wolffe stops fighting and his hands fall to his chest.

“What would you know about it?” Lyra closes her eyes at Wolffe’s question and takes a deep breath.

“Because my escape pod had no gravity and I was alone.” She whispers, and Wolffe’s eyes go wide. 

“General…” She places her hands on his shoulders as he looks up at her with regret and another emotion she can’t place. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra chants the words and feels a pulse from the Living Force in the room around her. She’s done a lot of healing today, and she has to focus hard to keep her own life force out of the stream of energy she’s using to heal Wolffe. The noise from the ship is distracting her.

“Master?” She hears Ahsoka sound nervous and almost afraid and her grip on the Living Force slips for a second. R2 is beeping furiously as Lyra feels the ship jolt into hyperspace. “We’re clear!” Ahsoka calls out again and Lyra’s grip slips again. 

“Damnit.” She mutters and loses her grip entirely. Lyra scrambles to pull away, to pull her life force away from Wolffe’s injuries. She claws at her life force, and feels her mind going fuzzy.

“..for that. She always said you guys would pull through.” Lyra hears Anakin’s voice faintly, like he’s far away from her. 

“General?” She opens her eyes to see Wolffe, looking significantly better than before, practically holding her up. 

“General Plo said someone would come for us. We’re glad he was right.” Lyra hears one of the other troopers, Boost she thinks, as they all crowd around the door to the room. Lyra finally pulls all her energy back into herself and lifts her hands from Wolffe’s shoulders. 

“Lyra!” Wolffe lunges for Lyra but he’s too late as she falls to the floor. The last thing Lyra sees is the three troopers hovering over her as her vision goes black.

Location: Republic Medical Frigate in the Ryndellian System // Three Days Post-Malevolence Attack

Lyra wakes up in a bed that she doesn’t recognize, and she feels terrible. She goes to say something, but her mouth feels dry as a bone.

“Water?” She manages to croak out and someone lifts a straw to her lips. She drinks greedily and then opens her eyes. “Padme?” Her older sister smiles and sets the water cup down on a tray next to Lyra’s bed. 

“It’s nice to see you awake.” Padme reaches up and brushes a curl of hair off of Lyra’s forehead. 

“What are you doing here?” Lyra still can’t quite wrap her head around the idea that her sister is next to her bed. “Where is here?” Padme laughed and scooted her chair closer to Lyra.

“A medical frigate in the Ryndellian system. You passed out after the hyperspace jump back to the fleet.” Padme explained and then hesitated. 

“Padme,” Lyra said quietly, raising an eyebrow. “How many days ago was that?” Padme sighed.

“Three.” She looked over at Lyra with a grimace on her face. “These frigates got attacked, I think. I wasn’t actually here for that part.” Lyra let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes. “I was headed back to Coruscant from Naboo when my ship got intercepted by Grievous.” Lyra’s eyes shoot open and she tries to sit up. Padme puts a hand on her shoulder and eases her back down to the bed. “I’m okay. 3PO and I snuck off our ship before they boarded, and then Anakin and Obi-Wan came to rescue me.” Padme explains, rubbing Lyra’s shoulder with her thumb.

“Speaking of Skywalker, where is he?” Lyra asks, taking Padme’s hand off her shoulder and holding it. 

“Somebody ask for me?” Lyra groans at the sound of Anakin’s voice as she turns her head to see him sauntering into the room. “Naberrie! You’re awake!” Anakin smiles as he pulls up a chair next to Padme, trying and failing to keep a respectable distance between the two of them. Lyra rolls her eyes again and looks around the room; it’s empty except for the three of them and one powered off meddroid.

“Just kiss already, Force. There’s nobody else in the room.” Lyra drops Padme’s hand and finds the remote for her bed. She finally gets herself into a sitting position as Padme and Anakin pull apart. Padme is blushing like a schoolgirl and Anakin has a smirk on his face as he throws his arm around Padme’s shoulders.

“How’re you feeling?” Anakin asks, his voice growing slightly more somber. “You gave us a good scare.” Lyra waves him off.

“I feel fine. I’m ready to get out of this bed.” She looks at him pointedly and he looks down at the floor.

“You’ve only been awake for a few minutes.” Padme says sternly, and Lyra rolls her eyes.

“I feel fine!” She starts to say more when her and Anakin both perk up. Anakin stands up and drops his arm from around Padme. Lyra uses the Force and quickly moves his chair to the other side of her bed. Anakin barely makes it around the foot of her bed when the doors to Lyra’s room slide open.

“Lyra.” Plo walks into the room with three clones behind him. “It is good to see you awake, young one.” Lyra smiles at his familiar energy, and ignores the air of panic radiating from Anakin.

“It’s good to be awake.” Lyra responds and leans her head over to look at the three troopers behind him. They take off their helmets, and Lyra is happy to see Boost, Sinker, and Wolffe in front of her, healthy and whole. “How are you all feeling?” She asks and Plo steps to the side behind Padme. 

“Like new, but better.” Boost winks at Lyra and she smiles. “We can’t thank you enough, General.” 

“We’d be in these beds next to you or worse if you hadn’t been there.” Sinker tacks on to the end of Boost’s sentence, setting his helmet down on the end of her bed. Wolffe sets his helmet down next to Sinker’s but stays silent.

“You’re to remain on bedrest for a few more days.” Plo says, and Lyra’s eyes widen. “Until Healer Allie gives the word.” Plo’s voice is stern, but Lyra still makes a noise in protest.

“That’s ridiculous! I’m just as much a Healer as Allie is, and I say I’m fine!” Lyra says, doing her best not to yell. 

“Regardless, bedrest.” Plo says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Lyra grumbles but says nothing. “I think our resident Healer needs some time to herself, if we could give her the room?” Plo says, and Lyra can see the assigned meditation for what it is. She squints her eyes at her old Master, but says nothing. Plo gestures for Anakin to follow him out the door, and Anakin waves goodbye to Lyra with his eyes on Padme.

“I’m headed back to Coruscant tonight, come see me when you get back.” Padme stands and squeezes Lyra’s hand, before leaning forward and giving her a kiss on the forehead. 

“It was good to see you.” Lyra says back, squeezing Padme’s hand in return before letting it go. Boost and Sinker both give her a salute, and Lyra watches as Sinker whispers something in Wolffe’s ear before the sergeant and the corporal leave the room. Lyra is left with only Wolffe, standing at the foot of her bed. Lyra folds her legs up and rests her hands on her knees. “Do you need something, Commander?” Wolffe opens his mouth to say something and then closes it again. Lyra releases a breath and closes her eyes, and waits. She keeps her awareness in her own body, assessing it for lingering injuries as she waits for Wolffe to find his words.

“Why did you do it?” Wolffe’s voice is quiet when he asks her, and Lyra’s eyes open to find Wolffe’s eyes locked on hers. 

“Do what?” Lyra asks, genuinely confused. 

“Save me. You almost died. For me. Why?” Wolffe almost sounds angry, but Lyra can feel his emotions radiating in the Force. For the first time, she feels Wolffe’s Force signature, but it’s blurry.

“You’re a person.” Lyra answers honestly; she feels like it’s all she can do. This space that her and Wolffe have created feels like it’s begging her to tell the truth. “And people are always worth saving.” She can tell that Wolffe is taken aback by her answer, but she keeps eye contact with him as she waits for his reply.

“There’s millions of me.” Wolffe replies, looking down at Lyra’s bed. Lyra frowns and leans forward. She reaches out and touches the back of his hand on the railing of her bed. His Force signature is thrown into clarity, and Lyra has to hold back a gasp at the beauty of it.

“Physically, yes. But you are your own person, with your own mind. And you are worth saving.” Wolffe looks up at her during her sentence and their eyes lock. For a brief moment, Lyra lets herself get lost in the brown of his eyes. Wolffe flips his hand over and their fingers weave together. Lyra has this sudden feeling that she can’t quite place, but she sees the same feeling in Wolffe’s eyes. Wolffe blinks and they both quickly let go and pull away from each other.

“Thank you.” Wolffe’s voice is low, but Lyra hears him all the same. 

“Hey, wanna do me a favor?” She asks, and Wolffe raises a single eyebrow at her.

Location: The Briefing Room on the Resolute in the Ryndellian System // Three Days Post-Malevolence Attack

“Naberrie. How did you get off the medical frigate?”

“Shut it, Skywalker. The briefing is about to start.”

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

Taglist: @lady--kenobi @ulchabhangorm @ariadnes-red-thread @cocolinagoodnight @justanothersadperson93 @corrieguards @rexxdjarin @baba-fett @sleepingsun501

Join the Taglist!

[ulchabhangorm]

Seeing this is the Abregado chapter made me gasp, but I wasn't prepared for this 🫣

Lyra refuses to look out the viewport of the escape pod. If she could cover it, she would. She already knows what’s floating past the glass, bumping into her escape pod every few seconds. She doesn’t need to keep seeing it. She resists the urge to look at the chrono on her wrist. She’s pretty sure it’s still been five hours, seven minutes, and approximately thirty-six seconds since… since Malevolence.

THIS! THIS! AHSBDAJDH

“Plo doesn’t need me up there. Besides, Commander Wolffe doesn’t want me anywhere near that bridge. He made that very clear.”

Oooohhhh I realllly wanna know what happened for that to happen 👀👀

“Keep my brothers safe for me, vod’ika. Okay?” He says something in a different language and hits the panel. Lyra watches through her tears as her escape pod is jettisoned from the ship. Barely a second later, the Triumphant explodes in front of her eyes. 

Rip Stitches we had you for like 2 days but you'll be missed 😭

She brings a hand up to wipe away her tears, and accidentally catches a glimpse of what is outside the front viewport again. Lyra’s silent tears turn into hiccupping sobs as she sees Stitches’ body thud into the glass once, and then twice before drifting out of sight. Stitches had no choice in being on the ship today. None of the clones did.  

Me reading this bit taking a critical hit:

“I’m fine.” Wolffe says gruffly, weakly batting away Lyra’s hands. Lyra huffs again. 

Such a difficult patient heh 😏 hnnng Lyra healing him at her own expense and him getting all concerned 🥺🥺🥺 I'm bouncing off the walls at this!

Love this! And I was rewatching the first season when I read this too!

[abandoned-by-destiny]

MAIA!!!!! you made my heart so happy with this comment you honestly have no idea.

- hehehehe IMMEDIATE PAIN for the start of this chapter

- what do you mean??????? nothing happened????? that’s definitely not gonna come up later????? 👀

- listen Stitches lives in my heart okay I LOVE HIM

i’m so happy you liked this chapter!!! thank you soso much for the comment and the reblog💕💕

- @writingbylee

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Good Morning lovelies❣️

I am posting to let you guys know that the posting date for Chapter 4 of Forged By War will be pushed back to next Thursday, May 11th

I’m a college student in the midst of finals [yikes], so I haven’t had time to finish and edit the chapter.

However, it may come out earlier depending on how the rest of this week goes! If that’s the case I will make another announcement😊

Take a deep breath and unclench your jaws💕

- @ner-runi

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Good Evening y’all!

I am posting to let you guys know that the posting date for Chapter 4 of Forged By War will be pushed back to next Thursday, May 11th

I’m a college student in the midst of finals [yikes], so I haven’t had time to finish and edit the chapter.

However, it may come out earlier depending on how the rest of this week goes! If that’s the case I will make another announcement😊

Drink water and relax your shoulders loves💕

- @ner-runi

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 3

fic masterlist // series masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Relationships: Commander Wolffe/fem!Jedi!OC (it’s about the slow burn y'all)

Rating: Mature (this fic as a whole is still Explicit/18+ so if you are a minor pls GTFO)

Tags/Warnings: death, corpses, blood, injuries, canon-typical violence (listen it's the Malevolence Arc, you know what's about to happen)

Word Count: 6k (ahahahahha i know i know alright)

divider by: @djarrex

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Year: 22 BBY // Five Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It’s the silence, Lyra’s decided. Space has always been quiet, but the quiet doesn’t bother her. The silence, though. 

Lyra stares up at the ceiling of the escape pod that she’s stuck in, laying on the floor. She’s enjoying the artificial gravity, for as long as she can. She’s going to have to turn it off in approximately fifty-five minutes, to reserve power for the life support system. Air to breathe is more important than gravity.

Lyra refuses to look out the viewport of the escape pod. If she could cover it, she would. She already knows what’s floating past the glass, bumping into her escape pod every few seconds. She doesn’t need to keep seeing it. She resists the urge to look at the chrono on her wrist. She’s pretty sure it’s still been five hours, seven minutes, and approximately thirty-six seconds since… since Malevolence.

Location: The Triumphant in Hyperspace // Approximately Five Hours Earlier

“That’s why your name is Stitches?” Lyra all but yells across the medbay at the clone medic in question. Stitches shrugs his shoulders while spinning a stylus between his fingers as he avoids doing the inventory Lyra asked him for earlier. 

“It made sense and I thought it was funny.” Stitches smiles as Lyra rolls her eyes. The large ship shudders slightly and they both look around. “Feels like we just dropped out of hyperspace. Shouldn’t you be on the bridge?” Lyra huffs and stands up, walking over to the supply tower in the center of the large medbay. 

“Plo doesn’t need me up there. Besides, Commander Wolffe doesn’t want me anywhere near that bridge. He made that very clear.” Lyra looks at her own datapad and starts doing the inventory herself, as she does her best to keep her feelings to herself. She reaches up and taps her earcomm twice, tuning into the bridge’s surveillance system so she can hear Plo and Wolffe. 

“-large energy reading from the target, sir.” Lyra’s fingers still in the bin full of gauze as she hears Wolffe speaking. 

“They found it.” She whispers and Stitches looks up from across the room. 

“The weapon?” He asks, standing up finally and walking towards her. She nods and transfers the audio to her wrist comm so Stitches can listen with her. 

“Open fire.” Plo’s voice sounds calm, but Lyra can detect the slightest undercurrent of fear. 

“We’re not in range yet, sir.” Wolffe replies and Lyra feels a tremor in the Force. The hair in her arms stands up and she suddenly senses a strong urge to run. She grabs Stitches wrist, who balks in surprise.

“Brace for impact!” Plo is now clearly shouting, but his warning is too late. All the power in the medbay flickers and then shuts off. Stitches runs to the doors and holds them open, because the power loss causes a quarantine shutdown in the medbay. Lyra bolts to the bacta tanks and tries to turn on the emergency generator, with no luck. The doors slide back open, and Stitches turns to face Lyra and panic wipes across her face.

“The shields.” She almost whispers it, but Stitches hears her. 

“-as left us defenseless!” Wolffe’s voice shouts from Lyra’s wrist, her comm barely holding on to the signal. “They’re tearing us apart, one by one.” He finishes as a loud crashing sound echoes from somewhere.

“The other ships in the fleet…” Stitches trails off as Lyra starts thinking about the two teams of medics under her command on the other two ships. She starts to reach for them in the Force when a wave of death almost knocks her off her feet. She stumbles backwards and Stitches catches her. 

“Quickly! Into the pods!” They both hear Plo shout before Lyra’s comm finally fizzles out. Lyra grabs Stitches by the arm and they both start sprinting. Lyra can see red hot fissures start to appear in the hallway as they run.

“We’re running out of time!” Lyra yells as they sprint around the corner. There’s only one pod left and that’s when Lyra remembers that the pods have to be launched from an exterior control panel. The moment the thought enters her mind, she’s lifted off the ground. She lands on her hands and knees on the inside of the pod, and turns to see Stitches already closing the hatch. “No!” Lyra shrieks and tries to stop him, but it’s too late. She slams into the hatch, tears streaming down her face. Stitches looks down at the control panel and then back up at her. 

“Keep my brothers safe for me, vod’ika. Okay?” He says something in a different language and hits the panel. Lyra watches through her tears as her escape pod is jettisoned from the ship. Barely a second later, the Triumphant explodes in front of her eyes. 

She can see bodies being flung into open space by the force of the explosion. She turns away from the small viewport at the back of the pod and looks through the large viewport at the front.

It takes her a moment to realize that the noise she’s hearing is a scream from her own throat. Her entire focus is locked on the view out her front viewport. 

Clones. Soldiers. Men she was responsible for keeping alive. Floating. Suffocated. Dead by the thousands.

Lyra collapses, sobs ripping from her throat. She pounds her hands against the durasteel grate of the floor in frustration and anger and grief. She tears at her robes, gashing holes in them.

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Two Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It takes her two hours to stop crying. To pull herself off the floor and start taking inventory of her supplies. 

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Three Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It takes her another hour to mask her power supply and set up an emergency beacon. The power supply was already damaged from the energy pulse that shut down the Triumphant, but mechanics were never her strong suit. She realizes that she’s running out of power and so she starts planning how much longer she thinks she can survive in this tiny pod. She sits next to the transmitter for longer than she will ever admit, praying to hear a voice. 

She doesn’t.

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Four Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It is four hours, nine minutes, and about twelve seconds after the Triumphant explosion when the pod hunters find her. She channels her grief into the Force and rips the droids apart with frightening ease. She can feel a crackling of electricity in her veins, and a terrifying low voice whispering in the back of her mind about how good it feels to unleash her anger. 

Lyra lays down on the floor afterwards and closes her eyes. She reaches a mental hand out to the Living Force, away from the voice in the back of her mind. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra whispers into the air.

The Living Force envelops her and she swears she can feel cool fingers run across her brow and down her cheek. A few tears slide out of her eyes and pool in her ears as she feels the warm light radiate through her mind, casting out the low voice. She lets the light radiate down through her whole being, physical and spiritual, as she falls into meditation.

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Six Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

Lyra stays in meditation until her chrono beeps; telling her it’s officially time to turn off the artificial gravity. She sits up and sighs as she tears a long strip of fabric from the bottom of her tunic. She ties one end around her ankle and the other around the back of the pilot’s chair. She wastes time double checking that her emergency beacon is still active and waits for a few seconds to see if she hears a voice. 

She doesn’t. 

She pushes a few more buttons to redirect the leftover power from the artificial gravity to her oxygen recycler and takes one more deep breath. She relishes the feeling of her feet on the ground, of her weight being anchored to something, and flips the switch. Her body floats up in the air, and Lyra tries to center herself when she remembers that she can’t do that without gravity. The tether on her ankle pulls taut and Lyra is left floating mostly horizontal in the center of the escape pod. Her loose robes drift around her body, blocking her vision. 

Lyra closes her eyes and feels the tears float off her cheeks as she starts crying again. How did she get here? How had this become her life? Could Yoda have been right all those years ago? She hears the echo of his voice in the back of her mind, at the center of all her insecurities.  

“Ready to be a Jedi, she is not.” 

“Not fit for service, you are.”

“Being attached to them, caring for your family means, youngling. Forsake these dangerous attachments, you must.” 

She brings a hand up to wipe away her tears, and accidentally catches a glimpse of what is outside the front viewport again. Lyra’s silent tears turn into hiccupping sobs as she sees Stitches’ body thud into the glass once, and then twice before drifting out of sight. Stitches had no choice in being on the ship today. None of the clones did.  

Lyra tries to calm her breathing down by praying for all the men she lost today. That’s the last thing she remembers doing before drifting off to sleep.

Location: Scout Ship in Abregado Airspace // Eight Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

Lyra blinks awake and winces away from the bright light shining through the pod’s viewport. She realizes that she’s facedown on the floor, and as she tries to sit up, she hears the screech of metal being pulled apart from her left. 

“General?” Lyra hears a voice she doesn’t recognize as she feels a cool hand brush across her forehead and down the side of her face. Lyra’s nose erupts in pain as she speaks, and she registers for the first time the amount of blood pooled on her face. Her vision is blurry, nothing but shadows moving around as she tries to reach out for whoever found her. 

“Stitches?” Lyra manages to get the name out as she feels two arms lift her up and start carrying her out of the escape pod. 

“You might need stitches, Naberrie, but you definitely need some water and oxygen.” A new voice says, and it takes a moment before it sinks in. 

“Skywalker?” Lyra feels her body get laid down on a table. “Why are you dead?” She hears him snort as her vision slowly returns, and she looks down to see an IV in her arm and a medical droid hovering over her. “Holy shit.” Lyra’s head hits the pillow as she stares at the ceiling in shock. 

“Language, Lyra, small ears are in the room.” Lyra turns her head to see Anakin Skywalker leaning against a counter across a very small room. He’s smiling, but Lyra can feel the worry radiating from him and from someone else. Lyra shifts her head to see a small Togruta girl standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. 

“Small ears, Master?” The girl speaks and Lyra can hear a hint of Anakin’s own signature sarcasm in her voice. 

“Zip it, Snips.” Anakin’s response is drenched in the aforementioned sarcasm. Lyra brings her hands up to her face to wipe away her tears, but winces when her fingers brush against her nose. It’s then that she realizes the liquid pooling under her eyes isn’t tears, it’s blood. “I’d hold off on touching your face, at least until the droid sets your nose.” Lyra bats away the hands of the meddroid and sits up on the bed. 

“I can set my own nose, Skywalker.” Lyra tries to sound strong, but even she can hear the quiver in her voice. The girl in the door takes a few steps forward, arms slightly outstretched as if to catch Lyra if she falls. Anakin huffs and takes two big steps across the room.  

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” He looks like he wants to say more, but a glance over his shoulder at the girl stops him. “Ahsoka, go back to the cockpit and see if we’re picking up any more emergency signals.” Lyra turns to watch her as the girl, Ahsoka, perks up at being given a job. 

“Yes, Master!” She chirps and darts out the door. Lyra raises an eyebrow. 

“And Padme would have my head if I let you set your own broken nose.” Anakin finishes his thought once his Padawan is out of earshot. 

“Or something else.” Lyra concedes and cracks a smile at Anakin’s offended gasp. “I still can’t believe they gave you a Padawan.” She says under her breath and is met with a sharp burst of pain. “Ow!” She flinches away from Anakin’s fingers and grabs her newly set nose. “That was uncalled for.” She mutters as she runs her fingers at the edges of the jagged cut across the bridge of her nose. Anakin shrugs indifferently at her pain and holds his hands out again. 

“Let me heal you up.” Lyra backs away and raises her eyebrows again. 

“You don’t know how to Force heal.” Anakin sputters at her sentence. 

“It can’t be that hard.” He brushes away her concern.

“It can literally kill you if you do it wrong– Hey!” Lyra starts to pull back again as Ahsoka comes back to the door. 

“Master? There’s a comm for you.” Anakin straightens up and makes one last face at Lyra before leaving the room. “Do you need anything?” Ahsoka’s voice is kind and Lyra can’t help but smile.  

“Can you find a mirror and bring it to me?” Lyra asks and Ahsoka takes a moment to search the room and brings Lyra a small mirror and two packages of something. 

“We don’t have a lot on board, because this is just a scout vessel, but these should help!” Ahsoka starts to unwrap a package of towels to clean off the blood and Lyra sees the small container of dermobacta next to her.  

“This is perfect, thank you.” Lyra gratefully takes the wipes and clears the pooled blood from under her eyes. 

“I can assist you.” The meddroid speaks up from next to Lyra’s bed, but she waves it off.  

“A shock blanket would be nice.” She smiles at the droid who spins away towards a cabinet. Lyra takes the mirror and holds it up so she can get a good look at the gash on her nose. She rests her fingers against the gash and closes her eyes. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra starts chanting and she feels the familiar warmth bloom through her body. She focuses on the cut, stitching the edges down and encouraging the growth of the scar tissue. She hears Ahsoka’s voice join her on the last refrain of her prayer.  

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra opens her eyes to see the last few sparks of golden energy fade away from the now pink scar cutting across her nose.  

“Not bad.” Lyra wipes the last few traces of blood away and turns to see Ahsoka watching her with wide eyes. 

“I’ve only ever seen Healer Allie do that.” She whispers and Lyra cracks a smile.  

“I’ll teach you a bit, if I get the chance.” Lyra nudges Ahsoka with her shoulder as she hops off the exam table. Lyra pulls the shock blanket from the meddroid’s hands and wraps it around herself. “Let’s go find your master.” Ahsoka smiles at the offer and leads Lyra to the cockpit.  

“I decided we couldn’t just give up on Master Plo, Healer Naberrie, or their men.” Anakin says as Lyra and Ahsoka enter the cockpit.  

“A noble gesture, Anakin. But the council feels your nobility may put others in danger. Please listen to me, Anakin. Return at once.” The hologram of the Chancellor implores Anakin as Ahsoka sits back down in the copilot chair. Lyra leans against the doorway and does her best to hide her surprise at Anakin being on a first name basis with the Supreme Chancellor.

“Yes, Excellency.” Anakin nods and the holo flickers off. Ahsoka looks shocked at Anakin’s response. “Time to go, Ahsoka.” Lyra doesn’t move from the doorway. 

“We have to stay!” Ahsoka gestures out towards the viewport. “We found Healer Naberrie, Master Plo has to be out there.”  

“Ahsoka,” Lyra pipes up from behind them, “I want to believe Master Plo’s alive more than anyone, but I just--” Ahsoka spins away from her and grabs onto the controls. 

“I know he’s alive! I can sense it.” Ahsoka says firmly as she flips a switch and starts piloting the ship herself. Lyra slams into the opposite side of the doorway as Ahsoka swerves the ship through the debris field. 

“Ahsoka!” Anakin shouts as he is tossed from his chair to the floor, away from his own controls. Lyra can barely hear him over the ringing in her own ears and the screech of R2 as the small astromech slides across the cockpit floor. Ahsoka rights the ship a few moments later and Lyra feels the equivalent of a flash of blinding light in the Force. 

“There!” Lyra shouts, pointing her finger in the direction of the flash. Ahsoka swings the ship around again, and through the viewport they see Master Plo and two clone troopers outside an escape pod, with another figure inside. Anakin makes it back to his seat and takes control of the ship back from Ahsoka. 

“Ready tow cable.” He says, the exhaustion clear in his voice. Ahsoka jumps up from her seat and runs to the back wall. 

“Cable loaded, Master.” Ahsoka beams as Anakin gets them in position. She fires the tow cable and turns to Lyra, her excitement flowing off of her in waves. “C’mon!” She takes off at a run down the short hallway to the cargo bay. Anakin stops at the doorway and puts his hand on Lyra’s shoulder. 

“She reminds me of you.” Lyra quips out, her breath still heavy and her ears still ringing.  

“Don’t have to tell me that.” Anakin huffs out under his breath as Ahsoka opens the door. 

“Are you okay, Master Plo? There's someone in the pod!” Lyra brushes Anakin’s hand off her shoulder at Ahsoka’s words and leans against the wall to make it to the doorway. Ahsoka is kneeling on the floor next to Plo, who is coughing on the ground. 

Lyra reaches a hand out towards the escape pod and tears off the viewport as two troopers slide off the top. Commander Wolffe falls forward and starts coughing. Anakin rushes forward and catches him before he hits the ground. Lyra leans against the door, stars finally starting to fade from her vision and the ringing in her ears starting to slow. Anakin turns to the meddroid as it gently pushes past Lyra to enter the airlock.

“Will they be alright?” Anakin directs his question to the droid, but before the ancient machine can answer, Lyra pipes up.

“Their suits are pressurized, which should have offered some protection, but they’ll need Force healing or a medical frigate for recovery.” At the sound of her voice, Plo pulls away from Ahsoka’s hug and looks up at her. 

“Lyra.” His voice is gravelly and Lyra takes a few steps forwards and drops to her knees next to Ahsoka. 

“Master.” She whispers, and then reaches forward to pull him into a hug. Plo wraps his arms around her and squeezes tightly, and Lyra can feel the tears finally starting to pool in the corners of her eyes.

“I‘ve been so worried.” Plo says, not breaking the hug. “Were there any other survivors?” Lyra pulls away and wipes at the corners of her eyes, feeling much more like a scared Padawan than a General in an army.

“We couldn’t find anybody else. I was alone in my pod.” Lyra feels Ahsoka’s hand rest on her shoulder as Plo takes a good look at Lyra. He raises a hand and hovers a few fingers over the fresh scar on her nose, sighing.

“The hunters must have destroyed the rest.” A weak voice says, and Lyra turns her head to see Commander Wolffe leaning against the pod with the other two troopers. 

“I’m sorry, Master Plo.” Ahsoka says, and Lyra winces slightly. She rises from her knees and walks over to the three clones as Anakin and Ahsoka usher Plo away to the cockpit. Lyra takes the blanket from her shoulders and wraps it around Wolffe. He barely moves. 

“We need the rest of the shock blankets. And any extra oxygen you have on board.” Lyra turns to the meddroid and rattles off the things she needs. It turns and walks back into the hallway, leaving Lyra alone with the three troopers, the last remaining troopers of the 104th. Wolffe won’t make eye contact with her, but the other two are looking at her expectantly. Lyra remembers briefly, the meeting she had when her and Plo joined the 104th, and got introduced to all the commanding officers. “It’s Boost and Sinker, right?” She asks and then two men take off their helmets. 

“Yes, sir.” Boost replies. Lyra winces slightly at the honorific.

“Please, just call me Lyra.” She asks and reaches out her hands for both men. “May I?” They look confused, but reach out a hand and grab onto her. Lyra feels the Force humming through their bodies and closes her eyes. “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” She chants the phrase as she pushes the Living Force through their forms, boosting the production of hemoglobin to increase oxygen intake and sealing up any wounds or bruises they had. They both take deep breaths and settle back against the pod as Lyra finishes her chant and opens her eyes. 

Boost and Sinker both have their eyes closed, but Wolffe is looking at Lyra. She turns as the warm glow fades from her hands and arms, and sees Wolffe looking at her with his mouth slightly open. She kneels in front of him, and reaches for his shoulders when the lights in the airlock flicker off.

“Hey, what’s with the lights?” Boost calls out to the meddroid as it reenters the room. 

“The power’s gone out.” Wolffe says, sitting up straighter. “Maybe that ship has returned. We should get up to the bridge.” He tries to push off the ground, but falls back against the escape pod.

“Absolutely not. You’re too weak.” Lyra stands again, determinedly ignoring her own shaky rise. She walks over to the meddroid and shuts it off, and lifts the supplies out of its arms. “I’ll go see what’s going on.” She places the blankets and oxygen tanks on the floor between the three men and starts walking back towards the hallway. She opens the door as she hears Ahsoka’s voice carry through from the cockpit.

“They’re coming back!” She sounds nervous and Lyra sees Anakin tighten his grip on the flight controls. 

“We’ve got to get the power back on, now!” Ahsoka jumps up at Anakin’s words and starts turning the ship back on. Anakin turns over his shoulder to see Lyra in the doorway, and shouts. “Brace yourselves back there!” 

“On what?” Lyra shouts back, gripping the door frame as Anakin swings the ship around. 

“Anything!” He yells over his shoulder, “R2, program the navicomputer. Get ready to get us out of here!” He turns his head to shout at the astromech and Lyra watches his face fall.

“You for-got.” Lyra hears Ahsoka sing the words at Anakin and then drop into a deadpan. “We turned him off.” Lyra ignores the look Anakin gives Ahsoka and turns back to the clones. 

“How are you feeling?” She directs her question at the two clones she had already healed. They had both stood up at Anakin’s shout. 

“Better.” Sinker says, and Boost nods in agreement. 

“Good. Can you help him to the side closet?” She gestures towards the Commander still on the ground. “I can heal him once we get up there.” They both nod silently and hoist Wolffe up onto their shoulders. Lyra slides to the side so they could get through the door before her and takes one last look at the two escape pods in the airlock before closing the door behind them. They deposit Wolffe on the same small cot and step aside for Lyra. Wolffe tries to stand up, but falls back onto the cot. The two troopers rush to grab his shoulders but Lyra beats them to it. 

“Will he be alright?” Sinker asks. Lyra looks at him.

“Yes. I promise.” He doesn’t look very sure as his eyes flick back to his unconscious Commander. Lyra takes a step towards him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I promise, Sinker.” She repeats, and Sinker inhales deeply.

“Of course, sir.” He says and Lyra flinches slightly at the honorific.

“Just Lyra, please. We’re all the same here.” She squeezes his shoulder. “Sinker, can you take Boost and head up to the cockpit? I’ve got everything handled here.” Sinker lets out a deep breath at her words and nods. “Thank you.” She says as both men leave the room. She turns back to Commander Wolffe on the bed, trying again to sit up.

“They need me.” Wolffe breathes out, barely making it through the sentence. Lyra pushes him gently back onto the cot.

“You’ll be no help to them now. Let me heal you.” Wolffe flinches away from Lyra’s hands and she sighs. “Commander, I’m just trying to help.”

“I’m fine.” Wolffe says gruffly, weakly batting away Lyra’s hands. Lyra huffs again. 

“Commander, you are not fine. You just spent eight hours in an escape pod with a failing life support system and barely any gravity.” Wolffe stops fighting and his hands fall to his chest.

“What would you know about it?” Lyra closes her eyes at Wolffe’s question and takes a deep breath.

“Because my escape pod had no gravity and I was alone.” She whispers, and Wolffe’s eyes go wide. 

“General…” She places her hands on his shoulders as he looks up at her with regret and another emotion she can’t place. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra chants the words and feels a pulse from the Living Force in the room around her. She’s done a lot of healing today, and she has to focus hard to keep her own life force out of the stream of energy she’s using to heal Wolffe. The noise from the ship is distracting her.

“Master?” She hears Ahsoka sound nervous and almost afraid and her grip on the Living Force slips for a second. R2 is beeping furiously as Lyra feels the ship jolt into hyperspace. “We’re clear!” Ahsoka calls out again and Lyra’s grip slips again. 

“Damnit.” She mutters and loses her grip entirely. Lyra scrambles to pull away, to pull her life force away from Wolffe’s injuries. She claws at her life force, and feels her mind going fuzzy.

“..for that. She always said you guys would pull through.” Lyra hears Anakin’s voice faintly, like he’s far away from her. 

“General?” She opens her eyes to see Wolffe, looking significantly better than before, practically holding her up. 

“General Plo said someone would come for us. We’re glad he was right.” Lyra hears one of the other troopers, Boost she thinks, as they all crowd around the door to the room. Lyra finally pulls all her energy back into herself and lifts her hands from Wolffe’s shoulders. 

“Lyra!” Wolffe lunges for Lyra but he’s too late as she falls to the floor. The last thing Lyra sees is the three troopers hovering over her as her vision goes black.

Location: Republic Medical Frigate in the Ryndellian System // Three Days Post-Malevolence Attack

Lyra wakes up in a bed that she doesn’t recognize, and she feels terrible. She goes to say something, but her mouth feels dry as a bone.

“Water?” She manages to croak out and someone lifts a straw to her lips. She drinks greedily and then opens her eyes. “Padme?” Her older sister smiles and sets the water cup down on a tray next to Lyra’s bed. 

“It’s nice to see you awake.” Padme reaches up and brushes a curl of hair off of Lyra’s forehead. 

“What are you doing here?” Lyra still can’t quite wrap her head around the idea that her sister is next to her bed. “Where is here?” Padme laughed and scooted her chair closer to Lyra.

“A medical frigate in the Ryndellian system. You passed out after the hyperspace jump back to the fleet.” Padme explained and then hesitated. 

“Padme,” Lyra said quietly, raising an eyebrow. “How many days ago was that?” Padme sighed.

“Three.” She looked over at Lyra with a grimace on her face. “These frigates got attacked, I think. I wasn’t actually here for that part.” Lyra let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes. “I was headed back to Coruscant from Naboo when my ship got intercepted by Grievous.” Lyra’s eyes shoot open and she tries to sit up. Padme puts a hand on her shoulder and eases her back down to the bed. “I’m okay. 3PO and I snuck off our ship before they boarded, and then Anakin and Obi-Wan came to rescue me.” Padme explains, rubbing Lyra’s shoulder with her thumb.

“Speaking of Skywalker, where is he?” Lyra asks, taking Padme’s hand off her shoulder and holding it. 

“Somebody ask for me?” Lyra groans at the sound of Anakin’s voice as she turns her head to see him sauntering into the room. “Naberrie! You’re awake!” Anakin smiles as he pulls up a chair next to Padme, trying and failing to keep a respectable distance between the two of them. Lyra rolls her eyes again and looks around the room; it’s empty except for the three of them and one powered off meddroid.

“Just kiss already, Force. There’s nobody else in the room.” Lyra drops Padme’s hand and finds the remote for her bed. She finally gets herself into a sitting position as Padme and Anakin pull apart. Padme is blushing like a schoolgirl and Anakin has a smirk on his face as he throws his arm around Padme’s shoulders.

“How’re you feeling?” Anakin asks, his voice growing slightly more somber. “You gave us a good scare.” Lyra waves him off.

“I feel fine. I’m ready to get out of this bed.” She looks at him pointedly and he looks down at the floor.

“You’ve only been awake for a few minutes.” Padme says sternly, and Lyra rolls her eyes.

“I feel fine!” She starts to say more when her and Anakin both perk up. Anakin stands up and drops his arm from around Padme. Lyra uses the Force and quickly moves his chair to the other side of her bed. Anakin barely makes it around the foot of her bed when the doors to Lyra’s room slide open.

“Lyra.” Plo walks into the room with three clones behind him. “It is good to see you awake, young one.” Lyra smiles at his familiar energy, and ignores the air of panic radiating from Anakin.

“It’s good to be awake.” Lyra responds and leans her head over to look at the three troopers behind him. They take off their helmets, and Lyra is happy to see Boost, Sinker, and Wolffe in front of her, healthy and whole. “How are you all feeling?” She asks and Plo steps to the side behind Padme. 

“Like new, but better.” Boost winks at Lyra and she smiles. “We can’t thank you enough, General.” 

“We’d be in these beds next to you or worse if you hadn’t been there.” Sinker tacks on to the end of Boost’s sentence, setting his helmet down on the end of her bed. Wolffe sets his helmet down next to Sinker’s but stays silent.

“You’re to remain on bedrest for a few more days.” Plo says, and Lyra’s eyes widen. “Until Healer Allie gives the word.” Plo’s voice is stern, but Lyra still makes a noise in protest.

“That’s ridiculous! I’m just as much a Healer as Allie is, and I say I’m fine!” Lyra says, doing her best not to yell. 

“Regardless, bedrest.” Plo says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Lyra grumbles but says nothing. “I think our resident Healer needs some time to herself, if we could give her the room?” Plo says, and Lyra can see the assigned meditation for what it is. She squints her eyes at her old Master, but says nothing. Plo gestures for Anakin to follow him out the door, and Anakin waves goodbye to Lyra with his eyes on Padme.

“I’m headed back to Coruscant tonight, come see me when you get back.” Padme stands and squeezes Lyra’s hand, before leaning forward and giving her a kiss on the forehead. 

“It was good to see you.” Lyra says back, squeezing Padme’s hand in return before letting it go. Boost and Sinker both give her a salute, and Lyra watches as Sinker whispers something in Wolffe’s ear before the sergeant and the corporal leave the room. Lyra is left with only Wolffe, standing at the foot of her bed. Lyra folds her legs up and rests her hands on her knees. “Do you need something, Commander?” Wolffe opens his mouth to say something and then closes it again. Lyra releases a breath and closes her eyes, and waits. She keeps her awareness in her own body, assessing it for lingering injuries as she waits for Wolffe to find his words.

“Why did you do it?” Wolffe’s voice is quiet when he asks her, and Lyra’s eyes open to find Wolffe’s eyes locked on hers. 

“Do what?” Lyra asks, genuinely confused. 

“Save me. You almost died. For me. Why?” Wolffe almost sounds angry, but Lyra can feel his emotions radiating in the Force. For the first time, she feels Wolffe’s Force signature, but it’s blurry.

“You’re a person.” Lyra answers honestly; she feels like it’s all she can do. This space that her and Wolffe have created feels like it’s begging her to tell the truth. “And people are always worth saving.” She can tell that Wolffe is taken aback by her answer, but she keeps eye contact with him as she waits for his reply.

“There’s millions of me.” Wolffe replies, looking down at Lyra’s bed. Lyra frowns and leans forward. She reaches out and touches the back of his hand on the railing of her bed. His Force signature is thrown into clarity, and Lyra has to hold back a gasp at the beauty of it.

“Physically, yes. But you are your own person, with your own mind. And you are worth saving.” Wolffe looks up at her during her sentence and their eyes lock. For a brief moment, Lyra lets herself get lost in the brown of his eyes. Wolffe flips his hand over and their fingers weave together. Lyra has this sudden feeling that she can’t quite place, but she sees the same feeling in Wolffe’s eyes. Wolffe blinks and they both quickly let go and pull away from each other.

“Thank you.” Wolffe’s voice is low, but Lyra hears him all the same. 

“Hey, wanna do me a favor?” She asks, and Wolffe raises a single eyebrow at her.

Location: The Briefing Room on the Resolute in the Ryndellian System // Three Days Post-Malevolence Attack

“Naberrie. How did you get off the medical frigate?”

“Shut it, Skywalker. The briefing is about to start.”

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

Taglist: @lady--kenobi @ulchabhangorm @ariadnes-red-thread @cocolinagoodnight @justanothersadperson93 @corrieguards @rexxdjarin @baba-fett @sleepingsun501

Join the Taglist!

[lesbianlyonelb]

First of all HOW DARE

Okay okay okay okay okay but genuinely. Genuinely. That is so fucking creative to have Lyra not only having survived the Malevolence attack but like, be in her own escape pod too??? I love that decision so much because it gives such a good common ground between her and Wolffe!!!! Like obviously she’s gonna get it, not only did she survive but her conditions were similar to his!!!!!

Also I love it because I know. I know this is gonna give Lyra so much trauma, and oooohhhh that’s gonna be awful but also delicious

Also also why do I feel like this absolutely is going to inform a lot of Lyra’s decisions moving forward but especially in regards to like. The many vs the few, you can’t save everyone type situations.

Also also also you’re mean. I can’t believe you did this you’re so mean (affectionate)

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Perse!! my beloved!! (hehehe i'm sorry but i'm also nottttttt)

thank you so much for this comment!! i legit smile so big every time i read it.

but yeah! this is a big moment for Lyra, as a person and a Jedi and a leader, and i was honestly nervous to write it cause i wanted to make sure i captured it just right. i'm so happy you caught the similarities between Lyra's situation and Wolffe's situation post-attack, i kinda state it later in the chapter, but i was hoping it was clear just from Lyra's time in the escape pod.

thank you again for commenting and reblogging and reading!!

(@writingbylee)

[abandoned-by-destiny]

chapter 3 actually officially drops at 3pm EST tomorrow!!

a certain Jedi Healer is headed out on the 104th Battalion’s first mission, something about a new Separatist weapon hidden in the Abregado system…

@writingbylee

[abandoned-by-destiny]

THE SCREAMS I SCRUMPT WHILE BETA-ING

anyways here have some memes

- @ner-runi

[abandoned-by-destiny]

chapter 3 actually officially drops at 3pm EST tomorrow!!

a certain Jedi Healer is headed out on the 104th Battalion’s first mission, something about a new Separatist weapon hidden in the Abregado system…

- @writingbylee

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 1

fic masterlist // series masterlist // next chapter

Rating: General (hi this fic as a whole is explicit so minors PLS DNI okay thank youuuuuu)

Tags: canon-typical violence, wound care and other generic medical things (nothing explicit)

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Arena on Geonosis // Year: 22 BBY

Waiting for the signal in the tunnel around the arena feels like agony. Lyra can feel Master Plo’s amusement from behind her as they both wait for Master Windu’s force signal to all of the Jedi around the arena. She’s never seen so many in one place except for the temple and there’s not a Padawan in sight. She bounces on her toes, fingers itching for her lightsaber. 

“Patience, young one.” Master Plo’s voice rumbles from behind her and she turns to face him. “We will go when the time is right, and not before.” He chastens her slightly, but she knows it is in kindness. She nods, struck again by the lack of weight on the right side of her head. It’s been a few months since she was Knighted, but she’s still getting used to not having her Padawan braid anymore. 

“I know, Master. But you can’t blame me for being nervous.” Lyra says to him and he laughs quietly. 

“Take a deep breath. Channel your nerves to the Force, and you will calm.” He says, still laughing slightly. Calm was hardly ever a word people used to describe her. She takes a deep breath like he tells her to, and feels slightly better. Truthfully, she’s more worried about Padmé. She’s supposed to be dead about fifty feet to Lyra’s right. 

Master Plo and Lyra both straighten at the same time, the Force vibrating around them. He takes two steps towards the entrance of the tunnel, his lightsaber already in his hand. He motions to the two Jedi down the way from them as she unhooks her own saber from her belt. The other Jedi exit first, and Plo and Lyra swiftly follow them. 

They emerge into the sun, Jedi wreathing the balcony of the arena. Across the way, on the dais, they can see Master Windu’s purple blade ignite across someone’s throat. She takes two steps forward, standing at the edge of the balcony. Master Plo and Master Mundi are on either side of her, and a sharp spike of alarm shoots up her spine as she looks down at her sister surrounded by destroyers. 

Padmé is on the back of a reek with Anakin and Obi-Wan; and as all the Jedi around the arena ignite their lightsabers, she feels a sense of relief from all three of them. Lyra ignites her own saber, the dark green blade feeling like an extension of her arm. 

Blaster fire erupts from behind them as battle droids flood the arena. She didn’t wear her robe, but Master Plo and Master Mundi are immediately caught in fire-ridden fabric. She blocks blaster bolts for both of them until she gets pushed to the edge of the balcony. She turns and dives over the edge, trusting the two Jedi Masters to be able to handle themselves. She lands in a roll in the center of a battalion of B-1 droids. She starts swinging her saber and runs towards the last place she saw Padmé. 

“Lyra!” She turns at the sound of her name and sees Anakin in the back of a chariot with Padmé riding the orray. She reaches her hand out and Anakin swings her up into the chariot behind him. 

“Are you alright?” Padmé and Lyra call towards each other in unison. Lyra smiles in Padme’s direction as she stands back to back with Anakin, blocking shots and taking out droids as they ride past. The orray gets shot as they round a curve and the chariot falls. Padmé falls forward as the back of the chariot tips with Anakin and Lyra caught in the cart. Lyra steps out first, and force-pulls Padmé back into the cart as Anakin continues to block blaster bolts. 

“Your back, let me see it.” Lyra tries to turn Padmé, but Padmé brushes her hands away.

“There’s no time. You can heal me later.” Padmé shoots at something over Lyra’s shoulder. Lyra smiles at her.

“It’s good to see you too.” Lyra says, turning to face the arena again. She kneels next to Anakin as she disengages her saber and starts using the Force.

“You call this a diplomatic solution?’ Anakin quips towards Padmé as she shoots the arm off a B-2 battle droid.

“No,” Padmé flicks some hair out of her eye and shoots another droid about to kill Anakin, “I call it aggressive negotiations.” Lyra sees them smile at each other out of the corner of her eye and resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Flirt later, lovebirds. We’re a little busy at the moment.” Anakin’s cheeks turn red and Padmé laughs. Something jumps over them and lands a few feet away. Lyra recognizes the back of the nexu that had been tasked with killing her sister. Anakin's eyes darken, but Lyra grabs his arm. “Stay with her. This one’s mine.” She whispers and sees the understanding flit across his face.

Lyra slides out of the cart and ignites her saber. The green blade sings in her hand as she swipes it across the field, slicing off the nexu’s tail. It screams and whips around to face her, already off balance from the loss of its tail. She smiles and starts running, leading it away from Anakin and Padmé. It screeches again and takes off to follow her. 

Lyra deflects blaster bolts while she runs, directing them back towards the animal. She spins around once she gets to the arena wall and slices off one of its front limbs as it approaches her, full tilt. The nexu buckles and she slices off a back limb this time. It falls, unable to stand. It screams at her, probably thinking it can goad her into getting closer to its teeth. 

“This is for Padmé.” Lyra whispers to it, and then, in one clean motion, she slices its head off. She leaves its mangled corpse at the edge of the arena, and sprints back towards the fighting.

Lyra doesn't know how much longer the fighting goes on before the remaining Jedi are circled in the middle of the arena. The firing stops suddenly, and Lyra realizes that she’s standing next to Padmé and Anakin again. 

“Master Windu,” Dooku’s voice booms from his place on the dais, “You have fought gallantly. Worthy of recognition in the archives of the Jedi Order.” He pauses, probably for his own satisfaction. The droids push a few straggling Jedi into the circle with the rest of them, and she sees Plo enter the circle from her periphery. “Now it is finished,” Dooku continues his speech, “Surrender, and your lives will be spared.” Lyra scoffs under her breath, and she can feel that she’s not alone in her sentiment.

“We will not be hostages to be bartered, Dooku!” Master Windu calls back; his voice carrying more authority than Dooku’s ever could. 

“Then, I’m sorry, old friend.” Dooku sounds as if he’s actually sorry for a moment, but they all know better. The droids all point their blasters at the Jedi in unison, and they can all feel the tension rise. Anakin and Lyra both take a step in front of Padmé, and she points her stolen blaster over their joined shoulders. Lyra raises her lightsaber and ready herself for a fight.

“Look!” Padmé calls and they all glance up. There are ships blotting out the sun and the sky. Large ships shaped like arrowheads high above in the atmosphere, and smaller ships descending towards them in the arena. She can see the outline of Yoda in the ship closest to the ground, and she does a remarkable job of hiding her distaste. Humanoid figures in white armor fill the ships that land on the ground and the droids immediately open fire. The Jedi return in kind, deflecting bolts as the ships mow down row after row of battle droids.

The ships land around them, blocking the blaster fire. Lyra runs for the nearest ship, which happens to be the one with Yoda, Master Windu, and Master Mundi. Master Mundi and Lyra both reach a hand out and haul Master Fisto on board as well. The armored figures fill the space around them, and Lyra tries her best not to feel small. The ships take off and all the people around her grab onto the ropes hanging above. She can almost reach, but Master Windu holds his arm out towards her. She grabs on and thanks him.

“If Dooku escapes, rally more systems to his cause, he will.” Yoda speaks directly to Master Windu and Master Mundi, completely ignoring her existence. They swing around a tall rock spire and more ships appear in front of them. They start to descend to the ground when a ship gets blown out of the sky next to them.

“Pilot!” Master Windu calls over the wind, “Land in that assembly area.” The pilot turns their head and nods.

“Yes, sir.” A deep male voice comes from the helmet as the pilot follows Master Windu’s orders. They land and Masters Windu, Mundi, and Fisto all jump from the ship. There are more armored people, men Lyra assumes, waiting for them.

“Sir, I have five special commando units awaiting your orders, sir.” The man in yellow and white armor tells Master Windu as they all jog up. Master Windu nods and points, and the men follow him. Lyra turns to the pilot and takes a few steps closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Has a triage area been set up?” She asks and he nods. 

“Yes, sir.” He responds and she does her best to ignore how strange it feels to be called sir. 

“Take me.” She says, before a voice pipes up behind her.

“To the forward command center, take me.” Yoda says to the person next to him and the pilot takes off.

“Triage is on the way, sir, we’ll drop you off.” The pilot calls back to Lyra. She rests her hand on his shoulder briefly.

“Thank you.” She calls over the wind again and then steps back into the main belly of the ship. She can feel Yoda’s gaze on her, but she ignores him. The ship lowers again and the pilot looks back at her. Lyra nods and hops off before the ship hits the ground. She covers her eyes as the ship takes off once again, and flies into the distance. 

She turns and sees three large white tents with haphazard medical symbols painted on them. She pushes through the curtain of the middle tent and steps into chaos. Another person in the same white armor as everyone else approaches her. 

“Are you injured?” A male voice asks, a voice strikingly similar to that of the pilot.

“No. Is there a Jedi Healer here?” She asks and the man stiffens in front of her.

“We do our job very well, sir. There aren’t any Jedi in here.” His voice is still respectful, but she can tell he’s angry. 

“No, that isn’t why I asked.” Lyra tries to fix her sentence but she realizes that there isn’t any saving it. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “I wanted to know who was in charge. I’m here to help.” The man looks her up and down, and then his shoulders soften. 

“The chief medical officer is in the back, but our third tent is understaffed.” He says and she smiles.

“Will you show me?” Lyra asks, and he leads her out of the tent. She follows him into the third tent and sees one frantic medic running between at least ten beds with soldiers on them. She pushes past her guide then, and grabs the medic’s arm. He turns to her, blood dots his blue scrubs.

“Are you hurt?” He says quickly, looking her up and down. She refrains from smiling and shakes her head.

“I’m a,” Lyra hesitates to say Healer, it feels pretentious in front of this man who is literally saving lives, “A medic. I’m here to help.” She finishes and his shoulders slump down with visible relief. 

“Thank goodness. Will you start at the other end of the beds?” He hands her a belt with wristbands spilling out of the pockets. “Blue wristbands are for non-critical patients, red wristbands are for critical patients. After you finish classifying, start with the critical patients.” He looks down at her as she clips the belt around her waist. “Sir.” He finishes quickly after he sees the lightsaber hanging by her hip. Lyra waves him off.

“Lyra is fine. Clearly, you’re more in charge than I am.” She takes off her robe and her saber and throws them in the back of the tent, near what looks like a supply tower. She heads towards the other end of the row of beds and starts triaging for injuries. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him as she unbuckles a soldier’s chestplate to get a better look at his injury. The medic pauses and looks over at her with a strange look on his face.

“Stitches.” He says and she cracks a smile. 

“Not a bad name for a medic.” Lyra looks up at him and the strange look on his face hasn’t changed. She decides to ignore it, and she reaches to lift the helmet off the soldier. She balks when she lifts the helmet, “He…” She looks back up at the medic and down to her patient. They have the same face. “Are you two relat-'' She starts to ask but then Healer Allie throws the curtains open and marches into the tent.

“Naberrie, thank goodness.” Lyra stands quickly and Allie nods at her. “We’ve been looking for you. There are Jedi who need you.” She goes to turn around, but Lyra stops her.

“Healer Allie, I’m busy here.” Lyra gestures to the tent full of soldiers and Stitches behind her who hasn’t picked his head up since Allie walked in.

“These are just soldiers.” She waves her hand and Lyra takes a step back in shock, “They can handle their own.” Allie sees the look on Lyra’s face and sighs. “We have more soldiers, we don’t have very many more Jedi.” Stitches still hasn’t looked at Lyra and she makes her decision then. 

“You can handle the Jedi without me,” Lyra steps back to the soldier she was helping and ignores Healer Allie’s second sigh. “These men need me more than you do.” Lyra places her hands on the soldier in front of her and begins healing him. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra whispers as Healer Allie huffs and leaves the tent. Lyra can feel the calming presence of the Living Force sweep through her body.

The process is quick in this case; his wound was clear of shrapnel. His bleeding stops as Lyra knits his flesh back together and when she’s finished, she looks up to see Stitches staring at her with his mouth open. 

“How?” He asks and she smiles as the slight glow fades from her hands; she moves to the next soldier.

“The Force.” Lyra says and shrugs. Stitches’ face hasn’t changed much and she laughs again. She starts healing the next soldier and looks at Stitches again. “Now, explain to me why you all have the same face.”

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

taglist: @lady--kenobi @sleepingsun501 @cocolinagoodnight

Join the Taglist!

[ulchabhangorm]

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK I LOVE LYRA ALREADY 😘

So sassy, is she going to find out about Padmé's marriage? She already seems to know about the two of them, I can imagine her rolling her eyes even more lmao

It's her interactions with the clones that made me love her, like oops she put her foot in it but did her best to smooth it over instead of powering through 🥰🤌

“We do our job very well, sir. There aren’t any Jedi in here.” His voice is still respectful, but she can tell he’s angry. 

^ this poor guy, day one and he must have already been shoved to the side 👀

“Not a bad name for a medic.” Lyra looks up at him and the strange look on his face hasn’t changed. She decides to ignore it, and she reaches to lift the helmet off the soldier. She balks when she lifts the helmet, “He…” She looks back up at the medic and down to her patient. They have the same face. “Are you two relat-'' She starts to ask but then Healer Allie throws the curtains open and marches into the tent.

ARE YOU TWO RELATED I was laughing so hard because yeah! No one knew!

“These are just soldiers.” She waves her hand and Lyra takes a step back in shock, “They can handle their own.” Allie sees the look on Lyra’s face and sighs. “We have more soldiers, we don’t have very many more Jedi.” Stitches still hasn’t looked at Lyra and she makes her decision then. 

Just so you know it's onsight with Allie and me 😅 I have my fists up and ready to take her on

I loved this intro and can't wait to see what Lyra does next!

[abandoned-by-destiny]

MAIA your comment makes me smile so much omg i’ve already reread it like seventeen times

Lyra may or may not find out about Padme and Anakin or does she already know, but they are definitely close!!

THANK YOU FOR LAUGHING AT THE “ARE YOU TWO RELATED?” i died laughing when i wrote it cause i was trying to think, how would someone who had no idea about the cloning react to that???

my favorite thing about the response to this chapter has been the consensus on everyone wanting to fight Healer Allie😂

thank you soso much for reading and reblogging and commenting!!!

@writingbylee

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 2

fic masterlist // series masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Featured Characters: fem!OC Brynn Clarke, fem!OC Orli’Va, clone!OC Skip

Rating: General (However this series is 18+ as a whole so MINORS BEGONE PLEASE)

Tags: Language, Brief allusions to past loss/familial death, Feelings of inadequacy, Talk of clones being expendable

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Grand Republic Medical Facility on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

The shrill tone signifying the end of class interrupts the final portion of the lecture. As everyone surrounding Brynn begins to pack up their datapads, the Ithorian professor’s modulated voice rings out once more. 

“Be sure to finish and submit your specialty applications before you sign up to take the certification exams!” 

Brynn fights the urge to roll her eyes as she puts her own datapad in her bag. For the entire semester, students have been deciding which specialty they want to dedicate their lives to. If she were to make a decision right this minute, her specialty would be trauma. You don’t experience what she did at such a young age and not be fundamentally changed by it. If there had been a trauma specialist on level 1757 that night, she wouldn’t have lost everything. The rings dance against her chest as she recalls the fateful memory. Brynn wants to be that difference for someone, somewhere in the galaxy, but she needs to get away from the city-planet first. Her scrub top bunches up at the shoulder when she slings her bag on. Walking leisurely out of the classroom and down the wide halls, Brynn fixes the folded shoulder of her top and fishes a few credits out of her breast pocket when she reaches a caf stand— a perfect melding point for caffeine addicted students like herself and businesses looking to capitalize. 

“Just my usual ‘Va.” Brynn tells the Pantoran barista when she reaches her counter.

“Of course B! One large hot chocolate with two dashes of caffeine crystals comin right up.” Orli’Va uses Brynn’s nickname before flashing her a cute smile. Brynn returns her smile with a wink before turning to face the immense window behind her. 

The Grand Republic Medical Facility. It's a different view than the lower levels where Brynn grew up since it actually, you know, has a view. Until she came here, Brynn had never even seen the sky. So whenever she gets the chance, she stops by what she likes to call the Eye of Coruscant. Even though Brynn is still on one of the lowest levels of the spire, she is able to see far and wide across the city planet. Today’s skyline is no different than the rest, sprawling across the lanes of traffic and overtaking the skyscrapers. She just can’t get enough of the light. She has been here for 5 years and the sun fills her with the same amount of awe as it did the first day.

“B! Order up!” Orli’Va’s sweet voice brings Brynn out of her trance. 

“Thank you, love,” Brynn tells the Pantoran. 

“As always, darlin’,” she responds, “Have you made a decision about a specialty?” 

“How did you know I needed to decide?”

“Hun, this is a caf stand in the Grand Republic Medical Facility,” Orli’Va moves her arms in a sweeping motion, gesturing to the extensive structures around them. “You can’t serve beautiful fifth years their caffeine without knowing when specialty applications are due.” 

“Oh well, no, I haven’t decided on a specialty yet.” Brynn leans in further onto the counter, “But I am leaning towards not submitting one.” Orli’Va’s eyes get wider in surprise; the barista leaning in closer as well. 

“Wait, so what are you wanting to do then?” 

“Well I was thinking, and don’t judge me for this,” Brynn gently points a finger at the blue skinned woman, “I was thinking of applying to be a contracted medic for the GAR.” Orli’Va backs away in shock, a look of astonished horror glazing her eyes. 

“Darlin’, why would you do something like that?”

“Because, O, I feel like it's the least I could do. These men deserve all that this genius could offer,” Brynn changes the subject with a joke before grabbing her hot chocolate, “I will let you know how it goes, beautiful. I’ll see you later.” She says with a smile over her shoulder as she walks away. 

Brynn’s head is reeling with choices by the time she walks into the medical facility’s dining hall. She thinks that maybe talking to Skip could help her further decide about what to apply for, a speciality or a medic contract. The hall is packed this afternoon, classes all being let out early due to the term ending. Brynn stands on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd for the armor of her friend. Most of the Coruscant Guard refrains from painting their armor in brash ways—as Brynn has noticed among the other battalions around Coruscant. Skip has the notorious red painted in ripple patterns over his shoulder bells and vambraces—while his leg armor drowns in the color, leaving the rest a clean canvas of white.

“Hey, Brynnie!” Once she hears her name, Brynn’s eyes lock onto a trooper waving his arm. 

“Skip!” she laughs out his name, “I was beginning to think you weren’t here yet.”

“Nah, you’re just a short shit so I figured I’d give you an assist,” Skip teases. She sets down her drink and pulls a sandwich from her bag as she sits across from the soldier. 

“Ohhh, so someone is feeling bold today,” Brynn rolls her eyes. When she begins to unwrap her food, Skip snatches half of it before she can stop him. 

“I am always bold Brynn, you should be used to it,” Skip replies, “Now what do we have today?”

“I…” Brynn emphasizes, grabbing to get her lunch back, “have a sliced nuna sandwich with Strider cheese sauce and Ferroan spinach.” Skip draws further out of Brynn’s reach, keeping the sandwich close to his chestplate. 

“Aw, c’mon Brynn,” Skip takes a massive bite from the sandwich before continuing. Brynn is pretty sure that the noises Skip makes are supposed to be a sentence, but with a mouthful of her sandwich— she can’t make out a single word. Brynn tries to hide her laughter and fails miserably at his attempt to talk.

“I’m sorry, what?!” she says between laughs. Skip swallows before repeating himself. 

“I said, you’ve never tasted the shit the Guard mess has. You would be stealing your best friend's food too.” Brynn rolls her eyes. She clenches her jaw while Skip continues to eat his half of her sandwich. She fights the urge to blurt out her life-changing decision, but before she can, Skip speaks up. “So, I have been hearing whispers that you will be choosing a speciality soon?”

“Yeah,” Brynn draws out, “Something like that.” Brynn absentmindedly picks at her own half of the sandwich.

“Okay, B, you better spill whatever the fuck it is that you are hiding,” Skip says pointedly, “Or I will get it out of you myself.”

“Ugh fine, okay. So, um, do you remember about a week or two ago when I told you that I was thinking of being a trauma specialist? Because of my parents?”

“Yeah, you seemed pretty adamant about working in the lower levels too. From my patrols down there it seems like they really need it.”

“Well—”

“Are you rethinking that? What do you want to do now?” Skip interrupts.

“Maker, Skip, shut up and let me tell you.”

“Okay sorry, continue.”

“I am rethinking it. I’ve downloaded the application for fifth years to go straight to the war effort, to be a field medic.”

“Brynn, why in the fuck would you want to go to literal war?” Skip enunciates each word with careful vitriol.

“Skip, you know for a fact that I have seen shit, and been helpless,” Brynn leans forward and stares the member of the Coruscant Guard in the face, “I can’t just stand back and not do anything. I want to be there and I want to help and do something that matters.”

“Brynn, listen to me, this isn’t the front lines. My brothers out there are literally in the midst of hell day in and day out. You can stay here. Save lives here. After what you’ve told me about how you grew up? You can be there for the children, the families, that actually need you here. Don’t risk your life for us. For clones. We are expendable. Replaced by the next model off the line.” Skip’s expression went from worried curiosity to a scowl as he spoke.

“No, Skip, you can’t say that. You and your brothers, you are all sentient human beings. You matter to me, and there are thousands of citizens that believe the same. You all are fighting a war. Those men on the front lines? I would trade an asshole who blew up himself and his neighbors for selfless men any day.” Brynn tries earnestly to explain her choice to not remain on the comparable safety of Coruscant. 

“Brynn you call us clones selfless. Why? We don’t have a choice. We come off the lines living, breathing, and fighting for the Republic. We are bred to be expendable.” Skip explains again, his scowl deepening. 

“Expendable? Why would there even be medics then? There are clone medics. There are positions for civilian medics. Skip, if you were truly expendable those positions would not exist.”

After that Brynn grabbed the rest of her lunch and left. Skip’s words hit her, in a way she wasn’t expecting. The amount of confusion, determination, and rage was starting to boil over. Now she has to submit the application. Not to prove a point to her best friend, but to show herself that she is capable and talented enough to make a difference in the lives of the men that she desperately wants to help. Because in this war, Skip is right, they have no choice. Brynn knows they deserve to be shown the kindness and the support that no one else wants to give them. 

By the time Brynn gets to her final class of the afternoon, she had tear stains on her cheeks. The clones aren’t expendable like Skip said, are they? No, Brynn shakes herself out of her thoughts, out of the propaganda. They are human-fucking-beings, and Brynn will be damned if she’ll let them die without knowing how much they mean to the citizens they are dying for. 

Her final class, a throwaway neurobiology course, comes and goes. Brynn could honestly do these procedures in her sleep. Her mind is still reeling from the conversations with Skip and with Orli’Va. Should she do this? Devote her life and well-being to the war effort? Brynn knows that she is smart, and that she is capable. Yet, she sees the look on the faces of her classmates. So young. So naive. They don’t know that she hears them talking about her. Second guessing her, and undermining her when they know she is correct. Brynn hears all of the comments, but they don’t know that she’ll remember every single one. 

When Brynn finally makes it back to her dorm for the evening, she just sits. She sits and thinks about what she is about to do, and if she is doing it for the right reasons. Is she doing something crazy just to prove everybody wrong? No. She is not. Opening the blank application, Brynn decides to put her ego aside and think about everything she’s seen with the clones. Skip, last week, being yelled at by one of the instructors, just for doing his job. Other members of the Coruscant Guard being verbally assaulted, or having things thrown at them. Working for a Republic that doesn’t want them to exist. But then Brynn thinks about those few people who handed the soldiers a cloth to wipe their armor. The one who told the professor to walk away. 

Tapping ‘Submit’ on the request, Brynn huffs and sets her datapad on the small desk in her dorm. Brynn looks around the small area, thinking back to when she first moved in; five years ago, with nothing more than a hand-me-down bag and some notebooks. One would think that after living at the Grand Republic Medical Facility for the last five years she would have a bigger living space, but a singular room and a refresher is all Brynn calls her own. Five years ago, she set out to try and make a difference. This field application is just the next step. As she settles down for bed, her mind wanders to what her future holds. Will she be in the thick of it? On the front lines, dodging blaster fire, surrounded by death? Or will she be aboard a medical frigate? Assisting the Kaminoan doctors and surgeons in a hospital setting? Brynn succumbs to the weight of her eyelids, drifting into a deep sleep. Her final thought of the night; is that in a day or two her request to serve the Grand Army of the Republic will either be accepted or denied.

Location: The Grand Republic Medical Facility on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

It has been well over a week since Brynn submitted her medic application and she is getting anxious. Brynn should be used to it, being anxious comes with the territory of being the youngest human among the fifth years. How long does Brynn have to prove herself? Everyone is always second guessing her because of her age. Yes, it has rubbed off on Brynn; she does second guess herself more than she would like to admit. However at the same time, 95% of it Brynn would say, her confidence outweighs the anxiety. She maintains some of the highest marks among her class, and she is still fighting for her place in the ‘big kids’ crowd. 

“Just because you haven’t heard back on your request, doesn’t mean you’ve been rejected.” Brynn whispers to herself. Her datapad dings with a new message notification as she walks away from the caf stand. She senses that it is the answer she needs to quell her anxiety and quickens her pace to the dining hall. Maybe she can have Skip read it? 

Finding Skip in the sea of hungry students wasn’t difficult; Brynn was on a mission. Once she reaches the table with her friend, Brynn unceremoniously plops her datapad in front of the soldier and spins it towards him.

“Um, what do you want me to do with your datapad?” Skip wipes off the corner of his mouth with a gloved hand.

“I know how you feel about me wanting to join the war effort, Skip,” Brynn begins, her eyes cast downward, “But I need, need, you to read this notification that I got. I just can’t do it myself.”

Skip takes the datapad in his hands, tapping on its screen to navigate to the message Brynn spoke of. The soldier narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Damn.” 

“Wait, what?! My application got denied?” Worry fills her voice. Skip slides her datapad back across the table and she scans the message before glaring back at her friend.. She reaches across the table and gives the man a slight, but firm, whack on the back of his head. 

“You can’t stress me out like that Skip, you know how much I wanted this.” Brynn begins to feel her heart rate increase, the excited anxiety of uncharted territory blossoming in her chest. 

“Ah Brynnie, I just want to keep you around,” Skip looks into Brynn’s eyes, giving her a small smile, and grabs her free hand, “You are my favorite lunch date.” Brynn returns his smile. She’ll miss her best friend. The tears finally spill as she rounds the table, crushing the trooper in the tightest hug she can manage. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about Kamino,” she whispers into his neck.

Location: Transport Docking Station on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

The morning sun is blinding as Brynn and Skip walk towards her transport. In less than five minutes she will be embarking upon a brand new adventure. Saving lives, doing good in the galaxy. Before they reach the gate Skip turns and grabs her shoulders, stopping them in their tracks.

“Okay! Review time!” Skip’s voice comes through his helmet’s modulator. 

“Number one, remember, stay away from the tubies. You will definitely get attached because we are adorable little shits when we are babies.” Brynn nods her head in agreement.

“Okay, number two! If you see a reptavian flying overhead?” 

“Just duck,” Brynn finishes, rolling her eyes.

“Hey! None of that dude, they will actually snatch you up for a quick meal.” Brynn scoffs as he continues, “And finally, you will soon realize, Kaminoans are weird as hell. Absolutely do not stare, they think it’s rude.”

“Skip, you do remember I grew up on Coruscant. I have seen probably every species that a humanoid deems as weird.” Brynn finishes with a slight laugh. After an awkward moment of silence she drops the bag on her shoulder and throws her arms around her armored friend.

“I’ll miss you Skip,” Brynn says. Skip gives her a strong squeeze and pulls away.

“I will miss you too, short shit,” he returns, a sniffle interrupting his goodbye. 

Brynn grabs her bag off the landing pad and starts walking toward the ramp of the transport. Halfway up the ramp Brynn turns around, her braid fluttering in the morning breeze. She sees Skip still standing where they parted ways, bringing two fingers to her temple in a mock salute. Seeing Skip laugh, Brynn smirks to herself. Once she boards the ship, she catches a final glimpse of her best friend as the door closes.

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

Taglist:

@lady--kenobi @sleepingsun501 @cocolinagoodnight @ulchabhangorm @justanothersadperson93 @corrieguards @ariadnes-red-thread @baba-fett @rexxdjarin

Join the Taglist!

[book-of-baba-fett]

I’m loving this so far!!! Brynn has such a strong personality, and I like seeing her friendship with Skip. I also really like how much detail you put into the process of her getting the assignment, it really gives us a good first look at her.

[abandoned-by-destiny]

AHHH Iris my BELOVED💕💕

I'm happy that you noticed how strong Brynn's personality is! It's definitely something that will continue to evolve as the story progresses, especially as she goes through her combat training in her next appearance. Then, different experiences in the war will continue to shape her.

- @ner-runi

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 2

fic masterlist // series masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Featured Characters: fem!OC Brynn Clarke, fem!OC Orli’Va, clone!OC Skip

Rating: General (However this series is 18+ as a whole so MINORS BEGONE PLEASE)

Tags: Language, Brief allusions to past loss/familial death, Feelings of inadequacy, Talk of clones being expendable

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Grand Republic Medical Facility on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

The shrill tone signifying the end of class interrupts the final portion of the lecture. As everyone surrounding Brynn begins to pack up their datapads, the Ithorian professor’s modulated voice rings out once more. 

“Be sure to finish and submit your specialty applications before you sign up to take the certification exams!” 

Brynn fights the urge to roll her eyes as she puts her own datapad in her bag. For the entire semester, students have been deciding which specialty they want to dedicate their lives to. If she were to make a decision right this minute, her specialty would be trauma. You don’t experience what she did at such a young age and not be fundamentally changed by it. If there had been a trauma specialist on level 1757 that night, she wouldn’t have lost everything. The rings dance against her chest as she recalls the fateful memory. Brynn wants to be that difference for someone, somewhere in the galaxy, but she needs to get away from the city-planet first. Her scrub top bunches up at the shoulder when she slings her bag on. Walking leisurely out of the classroom and down the wide halls, Brynn fixes the folded shoulder of her top and fishes a few credits out of her breast pocket when she reaches a caf stand— a perfect melding point for caffeine addicted students like herself and businesses looking to capitalize. 

“Just my usual ‘Va.” Brynn tells the Pantoran barista when she reaches her counter.

“Of course B! One large hot chocolate with two dashes of caffeine crystals comin right up.” Orli’Va uses Brynn’s nickname before flashing her a cute smile. Brynn returns her smile with a wink before turning to face the immense window behind her. 

The Grand Republic Medical Facility. It's a different view than the lower levels where Brynn grew up since it actually, you know, has a view. Until she came here, Brynn had never even seen the sky. So whenever she gets the chance, she stops by what she likes to call the Eye of Coruscant. Even though Brynn is still on one of the lowest levels of the spire, she is able to see far and wide across the city planet. Today’s skyline is no different than the rest, sprawling across the lanes of traffic and overtaking the skyscrapers. She just can’t get enough of the light. She has been here for 5 years and the sun fills her with the same amount of awe as it did the first day.

“B! Order up!” Orli’Va’s sweet voice brings Brynn out of her trance. 

“Thank you, love,” Brynn tells the Pantoran. 

“As always, darlin’,” she responds, “Have you made a decision about a specialty?” 

“How did you know I needed to decide?”

“Hun, this is a caf stand in the Grand Republic Medical Facility,” Orli’Va moves her arms in a sweeping motion, gesturing to the extensive structures around them. “You can’t serve beautiful fifth years their caffeine without knowing when specialty applications are due.” 

“Oh well, no, I haven’t decided on a specialty yet.” Brynn leans in further onto the counter, “But I am leaning towards not submitting one.” Orli’Va’s eyes get wider in surprise; the barista leaning in closer as well. 

“Wait, so what are you wanting to do then?” 

“Well I was thinking, and don’t judge me for this,” Brynn gently points a finger at the blue skinned woman, “I was thinking of applying to be a contracted medic for the GAR.” Orli’Va backs away in shock, a look of astonished horror glazing her eyes. 

“Darlin’, why would you do something like that?”

“Because, O, I feel like it's the least I could do. These men deserve all that this genius could offer,” Brynn changes the subject with a joke before grabbing her hot chocolate, “I will let you know how it goes, beautiful. I’ll see you later.” She says with a smile over her shoulder as she walks away. 

Brynn’s head is reeling with choices by the time she walks into the medical facility’s dining hall. She thinks that maybe talking to Skip could help her further decide about what to apply for, a speciality or a medic contract. The hall is packed this afternoon, classes all being let out early due to the term ending. Brynn stands on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd for the armor of her friend. Most of the Coruscant Guard refrains from painting their armor in brash ways—as Brynn has noticed among the other battalions around Coruscant. Skip has the notorious red painted in ripple patterns over his shoulder bells and vambraces—while his leg armor drowns in the color, leaving the rest a clean canvas of white.

“Hey, Brynnie!” Once she hears her name, Brynn’s eyes lock onto a trooper waving his arm. 

“Skip!” she laughs out his name, “I was beginning to think you weren’t here yet.”

“Nah, you’re just a short shit so I figured I’d give you an assist,” Skip teases. She sets down her drink and pulls a sandwich from her bag as she sits across from the soldier. 

“Ohhh, so someone is feeling bold today,” Brynn rolls her eyes. When she begins to unwrap her food, Skip snatches half of it before she can stop him. 

“I am always bold Brynn, you should be used to it,” Skip replies, “Now what do we have today?”

“I…” Brynn emphasizes, grabbing to get her lunch back, “have a sliced nuna sandwich with Strider cheese sauce and Ferroan spinach.” Skip draws further out of Brynn’s reach, keeping the sandwich close to his chestplate. 

“Aw, c’mon Brynn,” Skip takes a massive bite from the sandwich before continuing. Brynn is pretty sure that the noises Skip makes are supposed to be a sentence, but with a mouthful of her sandwich— she can’t make out a single word. Brynn tries to hide her laughter and fails miserably at his attempt to talk.

“I’m sorry, what?!” she says between laughs. Skip swallows before repeating himself. 

“I said, you’ve never tasted the shit the Guard mess has. You would be stealing your best friend's food too.” Brynn rolls her eyes. She clenches her jaw while Skip continues to eat his half of her sandwich. She fights the urge to blurt out her life-changing decision, but before she can, Skip speaks up. “So, I have been hearing whispers that you will be choosing a speciality soon?”

“Yeah,” Brynn draws out, “Something like that.” Brynn absentmindedly picks at her own half of the sandwich.

“Okay, B, you better spill whatever the fuck it is that you are hiding,” Skip says pointedly, “Or I will get it out of you myself.”

“Ugh fine, okay. So, um, do you remember about a week or two ago when I told you that I was thinking of being a trauma specialist? Because of my parents?”

“Yeah, you seemed pretty adamant about working in the lower levels too. From my patrols down there it seems like they really need it.”

“Well—”

“Are you rethinking that? What do you want to do now?” Skip interrupts.

“Maker, Skip, shut up and let me tell you.”

“Okay sorry, continue.”

“I am rethinking it. I’ve downloaded the application for fifth years to go straight to the war effort, to be a field medic.”

“Brynn, why in the fuck would you want to go to literal war?” Skip enunciates each word with careful vitriol.

“Skip, you know for a fact that I have seen shit, and been helpless,” Brynn leans forward and stares the member of the Coruscant Guard in the face, “I can’t just stand back and not do anything. I want to be there and I want to help and do something that matters.”

“Brynn, listen to me, this isn’t the front lines. My brothers out there are literally in the midst of hell day in and day out. You can stay here. Save lives here. After what you’ve told me about how you grew up? You can be there for the children, the families, that actually need you here. Don’t risk your life for us. For clones. We are expendable. Replaced by the next model off the line.” Skip’s expression went from worried curiosity to a scowl as he spoke.

“No, Skip, you can’t say that. You and your brothers, you are all sentient human beings. You matter to me, and there are thousands of citizens that believe the same. You all are fighting a war. Those men on the front lines? I would trade an asshole who blew up himself and his neighbors for selfless men any day.” Brynn tries earnestly to explain her choice to not remain on the comparable safety of Coruscant. 

“Brynn you call us clones selfless. Why? We don’t have a choice. We come off the lines living, breathing, and fighting for the Republic. We are bred to be expendable.” Skip explains again, his scowl deepening. 

“Expendable? Why would there even be medics then? There are clone medics. There are positions for civilian medics. Skip, if you were truly expendable those positions would not exist.”

After that Brynn grabbed the rest of her lunch and left. Skip’s words hit her, in a way she wasn’t expecting. The amount of confusion, determination, and rage was starting to boil over. Now she has to submit the application. Not to prove a point to her best friend, but to show herself that she is capable and talented enough to make a difference in the lives of the men that she desperately wants to help. Because in this war, Skip is right, they have no choice. Brynn knows they deserve to be shown the kindness and the support that no one else wants to give them. 

By the time Brynn gets to her final class of the afternoon, she had tear stains on her cheeks. The clones aren’t expendable like Skip said, are they? No, Brynn shakes herself out of her thoughts, out of the propaganda. They are human-fucking-beings, and Brynn will be damned if she’ll let them die without knowing how much they mean to the citizens they are dying for. 

Her final class, a throwaway neurobiology course, comes and goes. Brynn could honestly do these procedures in her sleep. Her mind is still reeling from the conversations with Skip and with Orli’Va. Should she do this? Devote her life and well-being to the war effort? Brynn knows that she is smart, and that she is capable. Yet, she sees the look on the faces of her classmates. So young. So naive. They don’t know that she hears them talking about her. Second guessing her, and undermining her when they know she is correct. Brynn hears all of the comments, but they don’t know that she’ll remember every single one. 

When Brynn finally makes it back to her dorm for the evening, she just sits. She sits and thinks about what she is about to do, and if she is doing it for the right reasons. Is she doing something crazy just to prove everybody wrong? No. She is not. Opening the blank application, Brynn decides to put her ego aside and think about everything she’s seen with the clones. Skip, last week, being yelled at by one of the instructors, just for doing his job. Other members of the Coruscant Guard being verbally assaulted, or having things thrown at them. Working for a Republic that doesn’t want them to exist. But then Brynn thinks about those few people who handed the soldiers a cloth to wipe their armor. The one who told the professor to walk away. 

Tapping ‘Submit’ on the request, Brynn huffs and sets her datapad on the small desk in her dorm. Brynn looks around the small area, thinking back to when she first moved in; five years ago, with nothing more than a hand-me-down bag and some notebooks. One would think that after living at the Grand Republic Medical Facility for the last five years she would have a bigger living space, but a singular room and a refresher is all Brynn calls her own. Five years ago, she set out to try and make a difference. This field application is just the next step. As she settles down for bed, her mind wanders to what her future holds. Will she be in the thick of it? On the front lines, dodging blaster fire, surrounded by death? Or will she be aboard a medical frigate? Assisting the Kaminoan doctors and surgeons in a hospital setting? Brynn succumbs to the weight of her eyelids, drifting into a deep sleep. Her final thought of the night; is that in a day or two her request to serve the Grand Army of the Republic will either be accepted or denied.

Location: The Grand Republic Medical Facility on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

It has been well over a week since Brynn submitted her medic application and she is getting anxious. Brynn should be used to it, being anxious comes with the territory of being the youngest human among the fifth years. How long does Brynn have to prove herself? Everyone is always second guessing her because of her age. Yes, it has rubbed off on Brynn; she does second guess herself more than she would like to admit. However at the same time, 95% of it Brynn would say, her confidence outweighs the anxiety. She maintains some of the highest marks among her class, and she is still fighting for her place in the ‘big kids’ crowd. 

“Just because you haven’t heard back on your request, doesn’t mean you’ve been rejected.” Brynn whispers to herself. Her datapad dings with a new message notification as she walks away from the caf stand. She senses that it is the answer she needs to quell her anxiety and quickens her pace to the dining hall. Maybe she can have Skip read it? 

Finding Skip in the sea of hungry students wasn’t difficult; Brynn was on a mission. Once she reaches the table with her friend, Brynn unceremoniously plops her datapad in front of the soldier and spins it towards him.

“Um, what do you want me to do with your datapad?” Skip wipes off the corner of his mouth with a gloved hand.

“I know how you feel about me wanting to join the war effort, Skip,” Brynn begins, her eyes cast downward, “But I need, need, you to read this notification that I got. I just can’t do it myself.”

Skip takes the datapad in his hands, tapping on its screen to navigate to the message Brynn spoke of. The soldier narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Damn.” 

“Wait, what?! My application got denied?” Worry fills her voice. Skip slides her datapad back across the table and she scans the message before glaring back at her friend.. She reaches across the table and gives the man a slight, but firm, whack on the back of his head. 

“You can’t stress me out like that Skip, you know how much I wanted this.” Brynn begins to feel her heart rate increase, the excited anxiety of uncharted territory blossoming in her chest. 

“Ah Brynnie, I just want to keep you around,” Skip looks into Brynn’s eyes, giving her a small smile, and grabs her free hand, “You are my favorite lunch date.” Brynn returns his smile. She’ll miss her best friend. The tears finally spill as she rounds the table, crushing the trooper in the tightest hug she can manage. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about Kamino,” she whispers into his neck.

Location: Transport Docking Station on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

The morning sun is blinding as Brynn and Skip walk towards her transport. In less than five minutes she will be embarking upon a brand new adventure. Saving lives, doing good in the galaxy. Before they reach the gate Skip turns and grabs her shoulders, stopping them in their tracks.

“Okay! Review time!” Skip’s voice comes through his helmet’s modulator. 

“Number one, remember, stay away from the tubies. You will definitely get attached because we are adorable little shits when we are babies.” Brynn nods her head in agreement.

“Okay, number two! If you see a reptavian flying overhead?” 

“Just duck,” Brynn finishes, rolling her eyes.

“Hey! None of that dude, they will actually snatch you up for a quick meal.” Brynn scoffs as he continues, “And finally, you will soon realize, Kaminoans are weird as hell. Absolutely do not stare, they think it’s rude.”

“Skip, you do remember I grew up on Coruscant. I have seen probably every species that a humanoid deems as weird.” Brynn finishes with a slight laugh. After an awkward moment of silence she drops the bag on her shoulder and throws her arms around her armored friend.

“I’ll miss you Skip,” Brynn says. Skip gives her a strong squeeze and pulls away.

“I will miss you too, short shit,” he returns, a sniffle interrupting his goodbye. 

Brynn grabs her bag off the landing pad and starts walking toward the ramp of the transport. Halfway up the ramp Brynn turns around, her braid fluttering in the morning breeze. She sees Skip still standing where they parted ways, bringing two fingers to her temple in a mock salute. Seeing Skip laugh, Brynn smirks to herself. Once she boards the ship, she catches a final glimpse of her best friend as the door closes.

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

Taglist:

@lady--kenobi @sleepingsun501 @cocolinagoodnight @ulchabhangorm @justanothersadperson93 @corrieguards @ariadnes-red-thread @baba-fett @rexxdjarin

Join the Taglist!

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 2

fic masterlist // series masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Featured Characters: fem!OC Brynn Clarke, fem!OC Orli’Va, clone!OC Skip

Rating: General (However this series is 18+ as a whole so MINORS BEGONE PLEASE)

Tags: Language, Brief allusions to past loss/familial death, Feelings of inadequacy, Talk of clones being expendable

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Grand Republic Medical Facility on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

The shrill tone signifying the end of class interrupts the final portion of the lecture. As everyone surrounding Brynn begins to pack up their datapads, the Ithorian professor’s modulated voice rings out once more. 

“Be sure to finish and submit your specialty applications before you sign up to take the certification exams!” 

Brynn fights the urge to roll her eyes as she puts her own datapad in her bag. For the entire semester, students have been deciding which specialty they want to dedicate their lives to. If she were to make a decision right this minute, her specialty would be trauma. You don’t experience what she did at such a young age and not be fundamentally changed by it. If there had been a trauma specialist on level 1757 that night, she wouldn’t have lost everything. The rings dance against her chest as she recalls the fateful memory. Brynn wants to be that difference for someone, somewhere in the galaxy, but she needs to get away from the city-planet first. Her scrub top bunches up at the shoulder when she slings her bag on. Walking leisurely out of the classroom and down the wide halls, Brynn fixes the folded shoulder of her top and fishes a few credits out of her breast pocket when she reaches a caf stand— a perfect melding point for caffeine addicted students like herself and businesses looking to capitalize. 

“Just my usual ‘Va.” Brynn tells the Pantoran barista when she reaches her counter.

“Of course B! One large hot chocolate with two dashes of caffeine crystals comin right up.” Orli’Va uses Brynn’s nickname before flashing her a cute smile. Brynn returns her smile with a wink before turning to face the immense window behind her. 

The Grand Republic Medical Facility. It's a different view than the lower levels where Brynn grew up since it actually, you know, has a view. Until she came here, Brynn had never even seen the sky. So whenever she gets the chance, she stops by what she likes to call the Eye of Coruscant. Even though Brynn is still on one of the lowest levels of the spire, she is able to see far and wide across the city planet. Today’s skyline is no different than the rest, sprawling across the lanes of traffic and overtaking the skyscrapers. She just can’t get enough of the light. She has been here for 5 years and the sun fills her with the same amount of awe as it did the first day.

“B! Order up!” Orli’Va’s sweet voice brings Brynn out of her trance. 

“Thank you, love,” Brynn tells the Pantoran. 

“As always, darlin’,” she responds, “Have you made a decision about a specialty?” 

“How did you know I needed to decide?”

“Hun, this is a caf stand in the Grand Republic Medical Facility,” Orli’Va moves her arms in a sweeping motion, gesturing to the extensive structures around them. “You can’t serve beautiful fifth years their caffeine without knowing when specialty applications are due.” 

“Oh well, no, I haven’t decided on a specialty yet.” Brynn leans in further onto the counter, “But I am leaning towards not submitting one.” Orli’Va’s eyes get wider in surprise; the barista leaning in closer as well. 

“Wait, so what are you wanting to do then?” 

“Well I was thinking, and don’t judge me for this,” Brynn gently points a finger at the blue skinned woman, “I was thinking of applying to be a contracted medic for the GAR.” Orli’Va backs away in shock, a look of astonished horror glazing her eyes. 

“Darlin’, why would you do something like that?”

“Because, O, I feel like it's the least I could do. These men deserve all that this genius could offer,” Brynn changes the subject with a joke before grabbing her hot chocolate, “I will let you know how it goes, beautiful. I’ll see you later.” She says with a smile over her shoulder as she walks away. 

Brynn’s head is reeling with choices by the time she walks into the medical facility’s dining hall. She thinks that maybe talking to Skip could help her further decide about what to apply for, a speciality or a medic contract. The hall is packed this afternoon, classes all being let out early due to the term ending. Brynn stands on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd for the armor of her friend. Most of the Coruscant Guard refrains from painting their armor in brash ways—as Brynn has noticed among the other battalions around Coruscant. Skip has the notorious red painted in ripple patterns over his shoulder bells and vambraces—while his leg armor drowns in the color, leaving the rest a clean canvas of white.

“Hey, Brynnie!” Once she hears her name, Brynn’s eyes lock onto a trooper waving his arm. 

“Skip!” she laughs out his name, “I was beginning to think you weren’t here yet.”

“Nah, you’re just a short shit so I figured I’d give you an assist,” Skip teases. She sets down her drink and pulls a sandwich from her bag as she sits across from the soldier. 

“Ohhh, so someone is feeling bold today,” Brynn rolls her eyes. When she begins to unwrap her food, Skip snatches half of it before she can stop him. 

“I am always bold Brynn, you should be used to it,” Skip replies, “Now what do we have today?”

“I…” Brynn emphasizes, grabbing to get her lunch back, “have a sliced nuna sandwich with Strider cheese sauce and Ferroan spinach.” Skip draws further out of Brynn’s reach, keeping the sandwich close to his chestplate. 

“Aw, c’mon Brynn,” Skip takes a massive bite from the sandwich before continuing. Brynn is pretty sure that the noises Skip makes are supposed to be a sentence, but with a mouthful of her sandwich— she can’t make out a single word. Brynn tries to hide her laughter and fails miserably at his attempt to talk.

“I’m sorry, what?!” she says between laughs. Skip swallows before repeating himself. 

“I said, you’ve never tasted the shit the Guard mess has. You would be stealing your best friend's food too.” Brynn rolls her eyes. She clenches her jaw while Skip continues to eat his half of her sandwich. She fights the urge to blurt out her life-changing decision, but before she can, Skip speaks up. “So, I have been hearing whispers that you will be choosing a speciality soon?”

“Yeah,” Brynn draws out, “Something like that.” Brynn absentmindedly picks at her own half of the sandwich.

“Okay, B, you better spill whatever the fuck it is that you are hiding,” Skip says pointedly, “Or I will get it out of you myself.”

“Ugh fine, okay. So, um, do you remember about a week or two ago when I told you that I was thinking of being a trauma specialist? Because of my parents?”

“Yeah, you seemed pretty adamant about working in the lower levels too. From my patrols down there it seems like they really need it.”

“Well—”

“Are you rethinking that? What do you want to do now?” Skip interrupts.

“Maker, Skip, shut up and let me tell you.”

“Okay sorry, continue.”

“I am rethinking it. I’ve downloaded the application for fifth years to go straight to the war effort, to be a field medic.”

“Brynn, why in the fuck would you want to go to literal war?” Skip enunciates each word with careful vitriol.

“Skip, you know for a fact that I have seen shit, and been helpless,” Brynn leans forward and stares the member of the Coruscant Guard in the face, “I can’t just stand back and not do anything. I want to be there and I want to help and do something that matters.”

“Brynn, listen to me, this isn’t the front lines. My brothers out there are literally in the midst of hell day in and day out. You can stay here. Save lives here. After what you’ve told me about how you grew up? You can be there for the children, the families, that actually need you here. Don’t risk your life for us. For clones. We are expendable. Replaced by the next model off the line.” Skip’s expression went from worried curiosity to a scowl as he spoke.

“No, Skip, you can’t say that. You and your brothers, you are all sentient human beings. You matter to me, and there are thousands of citizens that believe the same. You all are fighting a war. Those men on the front lines? I would trade an asshole who blew up himself and his neighbors for selfless men any day.” Brynn tries earnestly to explain her choice to not remain on the comparable safety of Coruscant. 

“Brynn you call us clones selfless. Why? We don’t have a choice. We come off the lines living, breathing, and fighting for the Republic. We are bred to be expendable.” Skip explains again, his scowl deepening. 

“Expendable? Why would there even be medics then? There are clone medics. There are positions for civilian medics. Skip, if you were truly expendable those positions would not exist.”

After that Brynn grabbed the rest of her lunch and left. Skip’s words hit her, in a way she wasn’t expecting. The amount of confusion, determination, and rage was starting to boil over. Now she has to submit the application. Not to prove a point to her best friend, but to show herself that she is capable and talented enough to make a difference in the lives of the men that she desperately wants to help. Because in this war, Skip is right, they have no choice. Brynn knows they deserve to be shown the kindness and the support that no one else wants to give them. 

By the time Brynn gets to her final class of the afternoon, she had tear stains on her cheeks. The clones aren’t expendable like Skip said, are they? No, Brynn shakes herself out of her thoughts, out of the propaganda. They are human-fucking-beings, and Brynn will be damned if she’ll let them die without knowing how much they mean to the citizens they are dying for. 

Her final class, a throwaway neurobiology course, comes and goes. Brynn could honestly do these procedures in her sleep. Her mind is still reeling from the conversations with Skip and with Orli’Va. Should she do this? Devote her life and well-being to the war effort? Brynn knows that she is smart, and that she is capable. Yet, she sees the look on the faces of her classmates. So young. So naive. They don’t know that she hears them talking about her. Second guessing her, and undermining her when they know she is correct. Brynn hears all of the comments, but they don’t know that she’ll remember every single one. 

When Brynn finally makes it back to her dorm for the evening, she just sits. She sits and thinks about what she is about to do, and if she is doing it for the right reasons. Is she doing something crazy just to prove everybody wrong? No. She is not. Opening the blank application, Brynn decides to put her ego aside and think about everything she’s seen with the clones. Skip, last week, being yelled at by one of the instructors, just for doing his job. Other members of the Coruscant Guard being verbally assaulted, or having things thrown at them. Working for a Republic that doesn’t want them to exist. But then Brynn thinks about those few people who handed the soldiers a cloth to wipe their armor. The one who told the professor to walk away. 

Tapping ‘Submit’ on the request, Brynn huffs and sets her datapad on the small desk in her dorm. Brynn looks around the small area, thinking back to when she first moved in; five years ago, with nothing more than a hand-me-down bag and some notebooks. One would think that after living at the Grand Republic Medical Facility for the last five years she would have a bigger living space, but a singular room and a refresher is all Brynn calls her own. Five years ago, she set out to try and make a difference. This field application is just the next step. As she settles down for bed, her mind wanders to what her future holds. Will she be in the thick of it? On the front lines, dodging blaster fire, surrounded by death? Or will she be aboard a medical frigate? Assisting the Kaminoan doctors and surgeons in a hospital setting? Brynn succumbs to the weight of her eyelids, drifting into a deep sleep. Her final thought of the night; is that in a day or two her request to serve the Grand Army of the Republic will either be accepted or denied.

Location: The Grand Republic Medical Facility on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

It has been well over a week since Brynn submitted her medic application and she is getting anxious. Brynn should be used to it, being anxious comes with the territory of being the youngest human among the fifth years. How long does Brynn have to prove herself? Everyone is always second guessing her because of her age. Yes, it has rubbed off on Brynn; she does second guess herself more than she would like to admit. However at the same time, 95% of it Brynn would say, her confidence outweighs the anxiety. She maintains some of the highest marks among her class, and she is still fighting for her place in the ‘big kids’ crowd. 

“Just because you haven’t heard back on your request, doesn’t mean you’ve been rejected.” Brynn whispers to herself. Her datapad dings with a new message notification as she walks away from the caf stand. She senses that it is the answer she needs to quell her anxiety and quickens her pace to the dining hall. Maybe she can have Skip read it? 

Finding Skip in the sea of hungry students wasn’t difficult; Brynn was on a mission. Once she reaches the table with her friend, Brynn unceremoniously plops her datapad in front of the soldier and spins it towards him.

“Um, what do you want me to do with your datapad?” Skip wipes off the corner of his mouth with a gloved hand.

“I know how you feel about me wanting to join the war effort, Skip,” Brynn begins, her eyes cast downward, “But I need, need, you to read this notification that I got. I just can’t do it myself.”

Skip takes the datapad in his hands, tapping on its screen to navigate to the message Brynn spoke of. The soldier narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Damn.” 

“Wait, what?! My application got denied?” Worry fills her voice. Skip slides her datapad back across the table and she scans the message before glaring back at her friend.. She reaches across the table and gives the man a slight, but firm, whack on the back of his head. 

“You can’t stress me out like that Skip, you know how much I wanted this.” Brynn begins to feel her heart rate increase, the excited anxiety of uncharted territory blossoming in her chest. 

“Ah Brynnie, I just want to keep you around,” Skip looks into Brynn’s eyes, giving her a small smile, and grabs her free hand, “You are my favorite lunch date.” Brynn returns his smile. She’ll miss her best friend. The tears finally spill as she rounds the table, crushing the trooper in the tightest hug she can manage. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about Kamino,” she whispers into his neck.

Location: Transport Docking Station on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

The morning sun is blinding as Brynn and Skip walk towards her transport. In less than five minutes she will be embarking upon a brand new adventure. Saving lives, doing good in the galaxy. Before they reach the gate Skip turns and grabs her shoulders, stopping them in their tracks.

“Okay! Review time!” Skip’s voice comes through his helmet’s modulator. 

“Number one, remember, stay away from the tubies. You will definitely get attached because we are adorable little shits when we are babies.” Brynn nods her head in agreement.

“Okay, number two! If you see a reptavian flying overhead?” 

“Just duck,” Brynn finishes, rolling her eyes.

“Hey! None of that dude, they will actually snatch you up for a quick meal.” Brynn scoffs as he continues, “And finally, you will soon realize, Kaminoans are weird as hell. Absolutely do not stare, they think it’s rude.”

“Skip, you do remember I grew up on Coruscant. I have seen probably every species that a humanoid deems as weird.” Brynn finishes with a slight laugh. After an awkward moment of silence she drops the bag on her shoulder and throws her arms around her armored friend.

“I’ll miss you Skip,” Brynn says. Skip gives her a strong squeeze and pulls away.

“I will miss you too, short shit,” he returns, a sniffle interrupting his goodbye. 

Brynn grabs her bag off the landing pad and starts walking toward the ramp of the transport. Halfway up the ramp Brynn turns around, her braid fluttering in the morning breeze. She sees Skip still standing where they parted ways, bringing two fingers to her temple in a mock salute. Seeing Skip laugh, Brynn smirks to herself. Once she boards the ship, she catches a final glimpse of her best friend as the door closes.

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

Taglist:

@lady--kenobi @sleepingsun501 @cocolinagoodnight @ulchabhangorm @justanothersadperson93 @corrieguards @ariadnes-red-thread @baba-fett @rexxdjarin

Join the Taglist!

[lesbianlyonelb]

AAAAAAHHHH

Oh I'm so excited to meet Brynn!!! I really like meeting her at a crucial time and getting to know her thought process this way! I like the insight into who she is as a person

Also I love Skip. I'm already attached to him. Nothing bad better happen to him

[abandoned-by-destiny]

AAAHHHHH right back at ya! I am so glad you liked meeting her at this crucial point in the galaxy! And who she is is very reflective on how she grew up! More about that will come out later😉

And nothing bad happens to Skip…(maybe👀) He’ll make a few more appearances later in the series!

- @ner-runi

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 2

fic masterlist // series masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Featured Characters: fem!OC Brynn Clarke, fem!OC Orli’Va, clone!OC Skip

Rating: General (However this series is 18+ as a whole so MINORS BEGONE PLEASE)

Tags: Language, Brief allusions to past loss/familial death, Feelings of inadequacy, Talk of clones being expendable

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Grand Republic Medical Facility on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

The shrill tone signifying the end of class interrupts the final portion of the lecture. As everyone surrounding Brynn begins to pack up their datapads, the Ithorian professor’s modulated voice rings out once more. 

“Be sure to finish and submit your specialty applications before you sign up to take the certification exams!” 

Brynn fights the urge to roll her eyes as she puts her own datapad in her bag. For the entire semester, students have been deciding which specialty they want to dedicate their lives to. If she were to make a decision right this minute, her specialty would be trauma. You don’t experience what she did at such a young age and not be fundamentally changed by it. If there had been a trauma specialist on level 1757 that night, she wouldn’t have lost everything. The rings dance against her chest as she recalls the fateful memory. Brynn wants to be that difference for someone, somewhere in the galaxy, but she needs to get away from the city-planet first. Her scrub top bunches up at the shoulder when she slings her bag on. Walking leisurely out of the classroom and down the wide halls, Brynn fixes the folded shoulder of her top and fishes a few credits out of her breast pocket when she reaches a caf stand— a perfect melding point for caffeine addicted students like herself and businesses looking to capitalize. 

“Just my usual ‘Va.” Brynn tells the Pantoran barista when she reaches her counter.

“Of course B! One large hot chocolate with two dashes of caffeine crystals comin right up.” Orli’Va uses Brynn’s nickname before flashing her a cute smile. Brynn returns her smile with a wink before turning to face the immense window behind her. 

The Grand Republic Medical Facility. It's a different view than the lower levels where Brynn grew up since it actually, you know, has a view. Until she came here, Brynn had never even seen the sky. So whenever she gets the chance, she stops by what she likes to call the Eye of Coruscant. Even though Brynn is still on one of the lowest levels of the spire, she is able to see far and wide across the city planet. Today’s skyline is no different than the rest, sprawling across the lanes of traffic and overtaking the skyscrapers. She just can’t get enough of the light. She has been here for 5 years and the sun fills her with the same amount of awe as it did the first day.

“B! Order up!” Orli’Va’s sweet voice brings Brynn out of her trance. 

“Thank you, love,” Brynn tells the Pantoran. 

“As always, darlin’,” she responds, “Have you made a decision about a specialty?” 

“How did you know I needed to decide?”

“Hun, this is a caf stand in the Grand Republic Medical Facility,” Orli’Va moves her arms in a sweeping motion, gesturing to the extensive structures around them. “You can’t serve beautiful fifth years their caffeine without knowing when specialty applications are due.” 

“Oh well, no, I haven’t decided on a specialty yet.” Brynn leans in further onto the counter, “But I am leaning towards not submitting one.” Orli’Va’s eyes get wider in surprise; the barista leaning in closer as well. 

“Wait, so what are you wanting to do then?” 

“Well I was thinking, and don’t judge me for this,” Brynn gently points a finger at the blue skinned woman, “I was thinking of applying to be a contracted medic for the GAR.” Orli’Va backs away in shock, a look of astonished horror glazing her eyes. 

“Darlin’, why would you do something like that?”

“Because, O, I feel like it's the least I could do. These men deserve all that this genius could offer,” Brynn changes the subject with a joke before grabbing her hot chocolate, “I will let you know how it goes, beautiful. I’ll see you later.” She says with a smile over her shoulder as she walks away. 

Brynn’s head is reeling with choices by the time she walks into the medical facility’s dining hall. She thinks that maybe talking to Skip could help her further decide about what to apply for, a speciality or a medic contract. The hall is packed this afternoon, classes all being let out early due to the term ending. Brynn stands on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd for the armor of her friend. Most of the Coruscant Guard refrains from painting their armor in brash ways—as Brynn has noticed among the other battalions around Coruscant. Skip has the notorious red painted in ripple patterns over his shoulder bells and vambraces—while his leg armor drowns in the color, leaving the rest a clean canvas of white.

“Hey, Brynnie!” Once she hears her name, Brynn’s eyes lock onto a trooper waving his arm. 

“Skip!” she laughs out his name, “I was beginning to think you weren’t here yet.”

“Nah, you’re just a short shit so I figured I’d give you an assist,” Skip teases. She sets down her drink and pulls a sandwich from her bag as she sits across from the soldier. 

“Ohhh, so someone is feeling bold today,” Brynn rolls her eyes. When she begins to unwrap her food, Skip snatches half of it before she can stop him. 

“I am always bold Brynn, you should be used to it,” Skip replies, “Now what do we have today?”

“I…” Brynn emphasizes, grabbing to get her lunch back, “have a sliced nuna sandwich with Strider cheese sauce and Ferroan spinach.” Skip draws further out of Brynn’s reach, keeping the sandwich close to his chestplate. 

“Aw, c’mon Brynn,” Skip takes a massive bite from the sandwich before continuing. Brynn is pretty sure that the noises Skip makes are supposed to be a sentence, but with a mouthful of her sandwich— she can’t make out a single word. Brynn tries to hide her laughter and fails miserably at his attempt to talk.

“I’m sorry, what?!” she says between laughs. Skip swallows before repeating himself. 

“I said, you’ve never tasted the shit the Guard mess has. You would be stealing your best friend's food too.” Brynn rolls her eyes. She clenches her jaw while Skip continues to eat his half of her sandwich. She fights the urge to blurt out her life-changing decision, but before she can, Skip speaks up. “So, I have been hearing whispers that you will be choosing a speciality soon?”

“Yeah,” Brynn draws out, “Something like that.” Brynn absentmindedly picks at her own half of the sandwich.

“Okay, B, you better spill whatever the fuck it is that you are hiding,” Skip says pointedly, “Or I will get it out of you myself.”

“Ugh fine, okay. So, um, do you remember about a week or two ago when I told you that I was thinking of being a trauma specialist? Because of my parents?”

“Yeah, you seemed pretty adamant about working in the lower levels too. From my patrols down there it seems like they really need it.”

“Well—”

“Are you rethinking that? What do you want to do now?” Skip interrupts.

“Maker, Skip, shut up and let me tell you.”

“Okay sorry, continue.”

“I am rethinking it. I’ve downloaded the application for fifth years to go straight to the war effort, to be a field medic.”

“Brynn, why in the fuck would you want to go to literal war?” Skip enunciates each word with careful vitriol.

“Skip, you know for a fact that I have seen shit, and been helpless,” Brynn leans forward and stares the member of the Coruscant Guard in the face, “I can’t just stand back and not do anything. I want to be there and I want to help and do something that matters.”

“Brynn, listen to me, this isn’t the front lines. My brothers out there are literally in the midst of hell day in and day out. You can stay here. Save lives here. After what you’ve told me about how you grew up? You can be there for the children, the families, that actually need you here. Don’t risk your life for us. For clones. We are expendable. Replaced by the next model off the line.” Skip’s expression went from worried curiosity to a scowl as he spoke.

“No, Skip, you can’t say that. You and your brothers, you are all sentient human beings. You matter to me, and there are thousands of citizens that believe the same. You all are fighting a war. Those men on the front lines? I would trade an asshole who blew up himself and his neighbors for selfless men any day.” Brynn tries earnestly to explain her choice to not remain on the comparable safety of Coruscant. 

“Brynn you call us clones selfless. Why? We don’t have a choice. We come off the lines living, breathing, and fighting for the Republic. We are bred to be expendable.” Skip explains again, his scowl deepening. 

“Expendable? Why would there even be medics then? There are clone medics. There are positions for civilian medics. Skip, if you were truly expendable those positions would not exist.”

After that Brynn grabbed the rest of her lunch and left. Skip’s words hit her, in a way she wasn’t expecting. The amount of confusion, determination, and rage was starting to boil over. Now she has to submit the application. Not to prove a point to her best friend, but to show herself that she is capable and talented enough to make a difference in the lives of the men that she desperately wants to help. Because in this war, Skip is right, they have no choice. Brynn knows they deserve to be shown the kindness and the support that no one else wants to give them. 

By the time Brynn gets to her final class of the afternoon, she had tear stains on her cheeks. The clones aren’t expendable like Skip said, are they? No, Brynn shakes herself out of her thoughts, out of the propaganda. They are human-fucking-beings, and Brynn will be damned if she’ll let them die without knowing how much they mean to the citizens they are dying for. 

Her final class, a throwaway neurobiology course, comes and goes. Brynn could honestly do these procedures in her sleep. Her mind is still reeling from the conversations with Skip and with Orli’Va. Should she do this? Devote her life and well-being to the war effort? Brynn knows that she is smart, and that she is capable. Yet, she sees the look on the faces of her classmates. So young. So naive. They don’t know that she hears them talking about her. Second guessing her, and undermining her when they know she is correct. Brynn hears all of the comments, but they don’t know that she’ll remember every single one. 

When Brynn finally makes it back to her dorm for the evening, she just sits. She sits and thinks about what she is about to do, and if she is doing it for the right reasons. Is she doing something crazy just to prove everybody wrong? No. She is not. Opening the blank application, Brynn decides to put her ego aside and think about everything she’s seen with the clones. Skip, last week, being yelled at by one of the instructors, just for doing his job. Other members of the Coruscant Guard being verbally assaulted, or having things thrown at them. Working for a Republic that doesn’t want them to exist. But then Brynn thinks about those few people who handed the soldiers a cloth to wipe their armor. The one who told the professor to walk away. 

Tapping ‘Submit’ on the request, Brynn huffs and sets her datapad on the small desk in her dorm. Brynn looks around the small area, thinking back to when she first moved in; five years ago, with nothing more than a hand-me-down bag and some notebooks. One would think that after living at the Grand Republic Medical Facility for the last five years she would have a bigger living space, but a singular room and a refresher is all Brynn calls her own. Five years ago, she set out to try and make a difference. This field application is just the next step. As she settles down for bed, her mind wanders to what her future holds. Will she be in the thick of it? On the front lines, dodging blaster fire, surrounded by death? Or will she be aboard a medical frigate? Assisting the Kaminoan doctors and surgeons in a hospital setting? Brynn succumbs to the weight of her eyelids, drifting into a deep sleep. Her final thought of the night; is that in a day or two her request to serve the Grand Army of the Republic will either be accepted or denied.

Location: The Grand Republic Medical Facility on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

It has been well over a week since Brynn submitted her medic application and she is getting anxious. Brynn should be used to it, being anxious comes with the territory of being the youngest human among the fifth years. How long does Brynn have to prove herself? Everyone is always second guessing her because of her age. Yes, it has rubbed off on Brynn; she does second guess herself more than she would like to admit. However at the same time, 95% of it Brynn would say, her confidence outweighs the anxiety. She maintains some of the highest marks among her class, and she is still fighting for her place in the ‘big kids’ crowd. 

“Just because you haven’t heard back on your request, doesn’t mean you’ve been rejected.” Brynn whispers to herself. Her datapad dings with a new message notification as she walks away from the caf stand. She senses that it is the answer she needs to quell her anxiety and quickens her pace to the dining hall. Maybe she can have Skip read it? 

Finding Skip in the sea of hungry students wasn’t difficult; Brynn was on a mission. Once she reaches the table with her friend, Brynn unceremoniously plops her datapad in front of the soldier and spins it towards him.

“Um, what do you want me to do with your datapad?” Skip wipes off the corner of his mouth with a gloved hand.

“I know how you feel about me wanting to join the war effort, Skip,” Brynn begins, her eyes cast downward, “But I need, need, you to read this notification that I got. I just can’t do it myself.”

Skip takes the datapad in his hands, tapping on its screen to navigate to the message Brynn spoke of. The soldier narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Damn.” 

“Wait, what?! My application got denied?” Worry fills her voice. Skip slides her datapad back across the table and she scans the message before glaring back at her friend.. She reaches across the table and gives the man a slight, but firm, whack on the back of his head. 

“You can’t stress me out like that Skip, you know how much I wanted this.” Brynn begins to feel her heart rate increase, the excited anxiety of uncharted territory blossoming in her chest. 

“Ah Brynnie, I just want to keep you around,” Skip looks into Brynn’s eyes, giving her a small smile, and grabs her free hand, “You are my favorite lunch date.” Brynn returns his smile. She’ll miss her best friend. The tears finally spill as she rounds the table, crushing the trooper in the tightest hug she can manage. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about Kamino,” she whispers into his neck.

Location: Transport Docking Station on Coruscant // Year: 22 BBY

The morning sun is blinding as Brynn and Skip walk towards her transport. In less than five minutes she will be embarking upon a brand new adventure. Saving lives, doing good in the galaxy. Before they reach the gate Skip turns and grabs her shoulders, stopping them in their tracks.

“Okay! Review time!” Skip’s voice comes through his helmet’s modulator. 

“Number one, remember, stay away from the tubies. You will definitely get attached because we are adorable little shits when we are babies.” Brynn nods her head in agreement.

“Okay, number two! If you see a reptavian flying overhead?” 

“Just duck,” Brynn finishes, rolling her eyes.

“Hey! None of that dude, they will actually snatch you up for a quick meal.” Brynn scoffs as he continues, “And finally, you will soon realize, Kaminoans are weird as hell. Absolutely do not stare, they think it’s rude.”

“Skip, you do remember I grew up on Coruscant. I have seen probably every species that a humanoid deems as weird.” Brynn finishes with a slight laugh. After an awkward moment of silence she drops the bag on her shoulder and throws her arms around her armored friend.

“I’ll miss you Skip,” Brynn says. Skip gives her a strong squeeze and pulls away.

“I will miss you too, short shit,” he returns, a sniffle interrupting his goodbye. 

Brynn grabs her bag off the landing pad and starts walking toward the ramp of the transport. Halfway up the ramp Brynn turns around, her braid fluttering in the morning breeze. She sees Skip still standing where they parted ways, bringing two fingers to her temple in a mock salute. Seeing Skip laugh, Brynn smirks to herself. Once she boards the ship, she catches a final glimpse of her best friend as the door closes.

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

Taglist:

@lady--kenobi @sleepingsun501 @cocolinagoodnight @ulchabhangorm @justanothersadperson93 @corrieguards @ariadnes-red-thread @baba-fett @rexxdjarin

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[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 1

fic masterlist // series masterlist // next chapter

Rating: General (hi this fic as a whole is explicit so minors PLS DNI okay thank youuuuuu)

Tags: canon-typical violence, wound care and other generic medical things (nothing explicit)

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Arena on Geonosis // Year: 22 BBY

Waiting for the signal in the tunnel around the arena feels like agony. Lyra can feel Master Plo’s amusement from behind her as they both wait for Master Windu’s force signal to all of the Jedi around the arena. She’s never seen so many in one place except for the temple and there’s not a Padawan in sight. She bounces on her toes, fingers itching for her lightsaber. 

“Patience, young one.” Master Plo’s voice rumbles from behind her and she turns to face him. “We will go when the time is right, and not before.” He chastens her slightly, but she knows it is in kindness. She nods, struck again by the lack of weight on the right side of her head. It’s been a few months since she was Knighted, but she’s still getting used to not having her Padawan braid anymore. 

“I know, Master. But you can’t blame me for being nervous.” Lyra says to him and he laughs quietly. 

“Take a deep breath. Channel your nerves to the Force, and you will calm.” He says, still laughing slightly. Calm was hardly ever a word people used to describe her. She takes a deep breath like he tells her to, and feels slightly better. Truthfully, she’s more worried about Padmé. She’s supposed to be dead about fifty feet to Lyra’s right. 

Master Plo and Lyra both straighten at the same time, the Force vibrating around them. He takes two steps towards the entrance of the tunnel, his lightsaber already in his hand. He motions to the two Jedi down the way from them as she unhooks her own saber from her belt. The other Jedi exit first, and Plo and Lyra swiftly follow them. 

They emerge into the sun, Jedi wreathing the balcony of the arena. Across the way, on the dais, they can see Master Windu’s purple blade ignite across someone’s throat. She takes two steps forward, standing at the edge of the balcony. Master Plo and Master Mundi are on either side of her, and a sharp spike of alarm shoots up her spine as she looks down at her sister surrounded by destroyers. 

Padmé is on the back of a reek with Anakin and Obi-Wan; and as all the Jedi around the arena ignite their lightsabers, she feels a sense of relief from all three of them. Lyra ignites her own saber, the dark green blade feeling like an extension of her arm. 

Blaster fire erupts from behind them as battle droids flood the arena. She didn’t wear her robe, but Master Plo and Master Mundi are immediately caught in fire-ridden fabric. She blocks blaster bolts for both of them until she gets pushed to the edge of the balcony. She turns and dives over the edge, trusting the two Jedi Masters to be able to handle themselves. She lands in a roll in the center of a battalion of B-1 droids. She starts swinging her saber and runs towards the last place she saw Padmé. 

“Lyra!” She turns at the sound of her name and sees Anakin in the back of a chariot with Padmé riding the orray. She reaches her hand out and Anakin swings her up into the chariot behind him. 

“Are you alright?” Padmé and Lyra call towards each other in unison. Lyra smiles in Padme’s direction as she stands back to back with Anakin, blocking shots and taking out droids as they ride past. The orray gets shot as they round a curve and the chariot falls. Padmé falls forward as the back of the chariot tips with Anakin and Lyra caught in the cart. Lyra steps out first, and force-pulls Padmé back into the cart as Anakin continues to block blaster bolts. 

“Your back, let me see it.” Lyra tries to turn Padmé, but Padmé brushes her hands away.

“There’s no time. You can heal me later.” Padmé shoots at something over Lyra’s shoulder. Lyra smiles at her.

“It’s good to see you too.” Lyra says, turning to face the arena again. She kneels next to Anakin as she disengages her saber and starts using the Force.

“You call this a diplomatic solution?’ Anakin quips towards Padmé as she shoots the arm off a B-2 battle droid.

“No,” Padmé flicks some hair out of her eye and shoots another droid about to kill Anakin, “I call it aggressive negotiations.” Lyra sees them smile at each other out of the corner of her eye and resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Flirt later, lovebirds. We’re a little busy at the moment.” Anakin’s cheeks turn red and Padmé laughs. Something jumps over them and lands a few feet away. Lyra recognizes the back of the nexu that had been tasked with killing her sister. Anakin's eyes darken, but Lyra grabs his arm. “Stay with her. This one’s mine.” She whispers and sees the understanding flit across his face.

Lyra slides out of the cart and ignites her saber. The green blade sings in her hand as she swipes it across the field, slicing off the nexu’s tail. It screams and whips around to face her, already off balance from the loss of its tail. She smiles and starts running, leading it away from Anakin and Padmé. It screeches again and takes off to follow her. 

Lyra deflects blaster bolts while she runs, directing them back towards the animal. She spins around once she gets to the arena wall and slices off one of its front limbs as it approaches her, full tilt. The nexu buckles and she slices off a back limb this time. It falls, unable to stand. It screams at her, probably thinking it can goad her into getting closer to its teeth. 

“This is for Padmé.” Lyra whispers to it, and then, in one clean motion, she slices its head off. She leaves its mangled corpse at the edge of the arena, and sprints back towards the fighting.

Lyra doesn't know how much longer the fighting goes on before the remaining Jedi are circled in the middle of the arena. The firing stops suddenly, and Lyra realizes that she’s standing next to Padmé and Anakin again. 

“Master Windu,” Dooku’s voice booms from his place on the dais, “You have fought gallantly. Worthy of recognition in the archives of the Jedi Order.” He pauses, probably for his own satisfaction. The droids push a few straggling Jedi into the circle with the rest of them, and she sees Plo enter the circle from her periphery. “Now it is finished,” Dooku continues his speech, “Surrender, and your lives will be spared.” Lyra scoffs under her breath, and she can feel that she’s not alone in her sentiment.

“We will not be hostages to be bartered, Dooku!” Master Windu calls back; his voice carrying more authority than Dooku’s ever could. 

“Then, I’m sorry, old friend.” Dooku sounds as if he’s actually sorry for a moment, but they all know better. The droids all point their blasters at the Jedi in unison, and they can all feel the tension rise. Anakin and Lyra both take a step in front of Padmé, and she points her stolen blaster over their joined shoulders. Lyra raises her lightsaber and ready herself for a fight.

“Look!” Padmé calls and they all glance up. There are ships blotting out the sun and the sky. Large ships shaped like arrowheads high above in the atmosphere, and smaller ships descending towards them in the arena. She can see the outline of Yoda in the ship closest to the ground, and she does a remarkable job of hiding her distaste. Humanoid figures in white armor fill the ships that land on the ground and the droids immediately open fire. The Jedi return in kind, deflecting bolts as the ships mow down row after row of battle droids.

The ships land around them, blocking the blaster fire. Lyra runs for the nearest ship, which happens to be the one with Yoda, Master Windu, and Master Mundi. Master Mundi and Lyra both reach a hand out and haul Master Fisto on board as well. The armored figures fill the space around them, and Lyra tries her best not to feel small. The ships take off and all the people around her grab onto the ropes hanging above. She can almost reach, but Master Windu holds his arm out towards her. She grabs on and thanks him.

“If Dooku escapes, rally more systems to his cause, he will.” Yoda speaks directly to Master Windu and Master Mundi, completely ignoring her existence. They swing around a tall rock spire and more ships appear in front of them. They start to descend to the ground when a ship gets blown out of the sky next to them.

“Pilot!” Master Windu calls over the wind, “Land in that assembly area.” The pilot turns their head and nods.

“Yes, sir.” A deep male voice comes from the helmet as the pilot follows Master Windu’s orders. They land and Masters Windu, Mundi, and Fisto all jump from the ship. There are more armored people, men Lyra assumes, waiting for them.

“Sir, I have five special commando units awaiting your orders, sir.” The man in yellow and white armor tells Master Windu as they all jog up. Master Windu nods and points, and the men follow him. Lyra turns to the pilot and takes a few steps closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Has a triage area been set up?” She asks and he nods. 

“Yes, sir.” He responds and she does her best to ignore how strange it feels to be called sir. 

“Take me.” She says, before a voice pipes up behind her.

“To the forward command center, take me.” Yoda says to the person next to him and the pilot takes off.

“Triage is on the way, sir, we’ll drop you off.” The pilot calls back to Lyra. She rests her hand on his shoulder briefly.

“Thank you.” She calls over the wind again and then steps back into the main belly of the ship. She can feel Yoda’s gaze on her, but she ignores him. The ship lowers again and the pilot looks back at her. Lyra nods and hops off before the ship hits the ground. She covers her eyes as the ship takes off once again, and flies into the distance. 

She turns and sees three large white tents with haphazard medical symbols painted on them. She pushes through the curtain of the middle tent and steps into chaos. Another person in the same white armor as everyone else approaches her. 

“Are you injured?” A male voice asks, a voice strikingly similar to that of the pilot.

“No. Is there a Jedi Healer here?” She asks and the man stiffens in front of her.

“We do our job very well, sir. There aren’t any Jedi in here.” His voice is still respectful, but she can tell he’s angry. 

“No, that isn’t why I asked.” Lyra tries to fix her sentence but she realizes that there isn’t any saving it. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “I wanted to know who was in charge. I’m here to help.” The man looks her up and down, and then his shoulders soften. 

“The chief medical officer is in the back, but our third tent is understaffed.” He says and she smiles.

“Will you show me?” Lyra asks, and he leads her out of the tent. She follows him into the third tent and sees one frantic medic running between at least ten beds with soldiers on them. She pushes past her guide then, and grabs the medic’s arm. He turns to her, blood dots his blue scrubs.

“Are you hurt?” He says quickly, looking her up and down. She refrains from smiling and shakes her head.

“I’m a,” Lyra hesitates to say Healer, it feels pretentious in front of this man who is literally saving lives, “A medic. I’m here to help.” She finishes and his shoulders slump down with visible relief. 

“Thank goodness. Will you start at the other end of the beds?” He hands her a belt with wristbands spilling out of the pockets. “Blue wristbands are for non-critical patients, red wristbands are for critical patients. After you finish classifying, start with the critical patients.” He looks down at her as she clips the belt around her waist. “Sir.” He finishes quickly after he sees the lightsaber hanging by her hip. Lyra waves him off.

“Lyra is fine. Clearly, you’re more in charge than I am.” She takes off her robe and her saber and throws them in the back of the tent, near what looks like a supply tower. She heads towards the other end of the row of beds and starts triaging for injuries. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him as she unbuckles a soldier’s chestplate to get a better look at his injury. The medic pauses and looks over at her with a strange look on his face.

“Stitches.” He says and she cracks a smile. 

“Not a bad name for a medic.” Lyra looks up at him and the strange look on his face hasn’t changed. She decides to ignore it, and she reaches to lift the helmet off the soldier. She balks when she lifts the helmet, “He…” She looks back up at the medic and down to her patient. They have the same face. “Are you two relat-'' She starts to ask but then Healer Allie throws the curtains open and marches into the tent.

“Naberrie, thank goodness.” Lyra stands quickly and Allie nods at her. “We’ve been looking for you. There are Jedi who need you.” She goes to turn around, but Lyra stops her.

“Healer Allie, I’m busy here.” Lyra gestures to the tent full of soldiers and Stitches behind her who hasn’t picked his head up since Allie walked in.

“These are just soldiers.” She waves her hand and Lyra takes a step back in shock, “They can handle their own.” Allie sees the look on Lyra’s face and sighs. “We have more soldiers, we don’t have very many more Jedi.” Stitches still hasn’t looked at Lyra and she makes her decision then. 

“You can handle the Jedi without me,” Lyra steps back to the soldier she was helping and ignores Healer Allie’s second sigh. “These men need me more than you do.” Lyra places her hands on the soldier in front of her and begins healing him. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra whispers as Healer Allie huffs and leaves the tent. Lyra can feel the calming presence of the Living Force sweep through her body.

The process is quick in this case; his wound was clear of shrapnel. His bleeding stops as Lyra knits his flesh back together and when she’s finished, she looks up to see Stitches staring at her with his mouth open. 

“How?” He asks and she smiles as the slight glow fades from her hands; she moves to the next soldier.

“The Force.” Lyra says and shrugs. Stitches’ face hasn’t changed much and she laughs again. She starts healing the next soldier and looks at Stitches again. “Now, explain to me why you all have the same face.”

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

taglist: @lady--kenobi @sleepingsun501 @cocolinagoodnight

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[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 1

fic masterlist // series masterlist // next chapter

Rating: General (hi this fic as a whole is explicit so minors PLS DNI okay thank youuuuuu)

Tags: canon-typical violence, wound care and other generic medical things (nothing explicit)

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Arena on Geonosis // Year: 22 BBY

Waiting for the signal in the tunnel around the arena feels like agony. Lyra can feel Master Plo’s amusement from behind her as they both wait for Master Windu’s force signal to all of the Jedi around the arena. She’s never seen so many in one place except for the temple and there’s not a Padawan in sight. She bounces on her toes, fingers itching for her lightsaber. 

“Patience, young one.” Master Plo’s voice rumbles from behind her and she turns to face him. “We will go when the time is right, and not before.” He chastens her slightly, but she knows it is in kindness. She nods, struck again by the lack of weight on the right side of her head. It’s been a few months since she was Knighted, but she’s still getting used to not having her Padawan braid anymore. 

“I know, Master. But you can’t blame me for being nervous.” Lyra says to him and he laughs quietly. 

“Take a deep breath. Channel your nerves to the Force, and you will calm.” He says, still laughing slightly. Calm was hardly ever a word people used to describe her. She takes a deep breath like he tells her to, and feels slightly better. Truthfully, she’s more worried about Padmé. She’s supposed to be dead about fifty feet to Lyra’s right. 

Master Plo and Lyra both straighten at the same time, the Force vibrating around them. He takes two steps towards the entrance of the tunnel, his lightsaber already in his hand. He motions to the two Jedi down the way from them as she unhooks her own saber from her belt. The other Jedi exit first, and Plo and Lyra swiftly follow them. 

They emerge into the sun, Jedi wreathing the balcony of the arena. Across the way, on the dais, they can see Master Windu’s purple blade ignite across someone’s throat. She takes two steps forward, standing at the edge of the balcony. Master Plo and Master Mundi are on either side of her, and a sharp spike of alarm shoots up her spine as she looks down at her sister surrounded by destroyers. 

Padmé is on the back of a reek with Anakin and Obi-Wan; and as all the Jedi around the arena ignite their lightsabers, she feels a sense of relief from all three of them. Lyra ignites her own saber, the dark green blade feeling like an extension of her arm. 

Blaster fire erupts from behind them as battle droids flood the arena. She didn’t wear her robe, but Master Plo and Master Mundi are immediately caught in fire-ridden fabric. She blocks blaster bolts for both of them until she gets pushed to the edge of the balcony. She turns and dives over the edge, trusting the two Jedi Masters to be able to handle themselves. She lands in a roll in the center of a battalion of B-1 droids. She starts swinging her saber and runs towards the last place she saw Padmé. 

“Lyra!” She turns at the sound of her name and sees Anakin in the back of a chariot with Padmé riding the orray. She reaches her hand out and Anakin swings her up into the chariot behind him. 

“Are you alright?” Padmé and Lyra call towards each other in unison. Lyra smiles in Padme’s direction as she stands back to back with Anakin, blocking shots and taking out droids as they ride past. The orray gets shot as they round a curve and the chariot falls. Padmé falls forward as the back of the chariot tips with Anakin and Lyra caught in the cart. Lyra steps out first, and force-pulls Padmé back into the cart as Anakin continues to block blaster bolts. 

“Your back, let me see it.” Lyra tries to turn Padmé, but Padmé brushes her hands away.

“There’s no time. You can heal me later.” Padmé shoots at something over Lyra’s shoulder. Lyra smiles at her.

“It’s good to see you too.” Lyra says, turning to face the arena again. She kneels next to Anakin as she disengages her saber and starts using the Force.

“You call this a diplomatic solution?’ Anakin quips towards Padmé as she shoots the arm off a B-2 battle droid.

“No,” Padmé flicks some hair out of her eye and shoots another droid about to kill Anakin, “I call it aggressive negotiations.” Lyra sees them smile at each other out of the corner of her eye and resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Flirt later, lovebirds. We’re a little busy at the moment.” Anakin’s cheeks turn red and Padmé laughs. Something jumps over them and lands a few feet away. Lyra recognizes the back of the nexu that had been tasked with killing her sister. Anakin's eyes darken, but Lyra grabs his arm. “Stay with her. This one’s mine.” She whispers and sees the understanding flit across his face.

Lyra slides out of the cart and ignites her saber. The green blade sings in her hand as she swipes it across the field, slicing off the nexu’s tail. It screams and whips around to face her, already off balance from the loss of its tail. She smiles and starts running, leading it away from Anakin and Padmé. It screeches again and takes off to follow her. 

Lyra deflects blaster bolts while she runs, directing them back towards the animal. She spins around once she gets to the arena wall and slices off one of its front limbs as it approaches her, full tilt. The nexu buckles and she slices off a back limb this time. It falls, unable to stand. It screams at her, probably thinking it can goad her into getting closer to its teeth. 

“This is for Padmé.” Lyra whispers to it, and then, in one clean motion, she slices its head off. She leaves its mangled corpse at the edge of the arena, and sprints back towards the fighting.

Lyra doesn't know how much longer the fighting goes on before the remaining Jedi are circled in the middle of the arena. The firing stops suddenly, and Lyra realizes that she’s standing next to Padmé and Anakin again. 

“Master Windu,” Dooku’s voice booms from his place on the dais, “You have fought gallantly. Worthy of recognition in the archives of the Jedi Order.” He pauses, probably for his own satisfaction. The droids push a few straggling Jedi into the circle with the rest of them, and she sees Plo enter the circle from her periphery. “Now it is finished,” Dooku continues his speech, “Surrender, and your lives will be spared.” Lyra scoffs under her breath, and she can feel that she’s not alone in her sentiment.

“We will not be hostages to be bartered, Dooku!” Master Windu calls back; his voice carrying more authority than Dooku’s ever could. 

“Then, I’m sorry, old friend.” Dooku sounds as if he’s actually sorry for a moment, but they all know better. The droids all point their blasters at the Jedi in unison, and they can all feel the tension rise. Anakin and Lyra both take a step in front of Padmé, and she points her stolen blaster over their joined shoulders. Lyra raises her lightsaber and ready herself for a fight.

“Look!” Padmé calls and they all glance up. There are ships blotting out the sun and the sky. Large ships shaped like arrowheads high above in the atmosphere, and smaller ships descending towards them in the arena. She can see the outline of Yoda in the ship closest to the ground, and she does a remarkable job of hiding her distaste. Humanoid figures in white armor fill the ships that land on the ground and the droids immediately open fire. The Jedi return in kind, deflecting bolts as the ships mow down row after row of battle droids.

The ships land around them, blocking the blaster fire. Lyra runs for the nearest ship, which happens to be the one with Yoda, Master Windu, and Master Mundi. Master Mundi and Lyra both reach a hand out and haul Master Fisto on board as well. The armored figures fill the space around them, and Lyra tries her best not to feel small. The ships take off and all the people around her grab onto the ropes hanging above. She can almost reach, but Master Windu holds his arm out towards her. She grabs on and thanks him.

“If Dooku escapes, rally more systems to his cause, he will.” Yoda speaks directly to Master Windu and Master Mundi, completely ignoring her existence. They swing around a tall rock spire and more ships appear in front of them. They start to descend to the ground when a ship gets blown out of the sky next to them.

“Pilot!” Master Windu calls over the wind, “Land in that assembly area.” The pilot turns their head and nods.

“Yes, sir.” A deep male voice comes from the helmet as the pilot follows Master Windu’s orders. They land and Masters Windu, Mundi, and Fisto all jump from the ship. There are more armored people, men Lyra assumes, waiting for them.

“Sir, I have five special commando units awaiting your orders, sir.” The man in yellow and white armor tells Master Windu as they all jog up. Master Windu nods and points, and the men follow him. Lyra turns to the pilot and takes a few steps closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Has a triage area been set up?” She asks and he nods. 

“Yes, sir.” He responds and she does her best to ignore how strange it feels to be called sir. 

“Take me.” She says, before a voice pipes up behind her.

“To the forward command center, take me.” Yoda says to the person next to him and the pilot takes off.

“Triage is on the way, sir, we’ll drop you off.” The pilot calls back to Lyra. She rests her hand on his shoulder briefly.

“Thank you.” She calls over the wind again and then steps back into the main belly of the ship. She can feel Yoda’s gaze on her, but she ignores him. The ship lowers again and the pilot looks back at her. Lyra nods and hops off before the ship hits the ground. She covers her eyes as the ship takes off once again, and flies into the distance. 

She turns and sees three large white tents with haphazard medical symbols painted on them. She pushes through the curtain of the middle tent and steps into chaos. Another person in the same white armor as everyone else approaches her. 

“Are you injured?” A male voice asks, a voice strikingly similar to that of the pilot.

“No. Is there a Jedi Healer here?” She asks and the man stiffens in front of her.

“We do our job very well, sir. There aren’t any Jedi in here.” His voice is still respectful, but she can tell he’s angry. 

“No, that isn’t why I asked.” Lyra tries to fix her sentence but she realizes that there isn’t any saving it. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “I wanted to know who was in charge. I’m here to help.” The man looks her up and down, and then his shoulders soften. 

“The chief medical officer is in the back, but our third tent is understaffed.” He says and she smiles.

“Will you show me?” Lyra asks, and he leads her out of the tent. She follows him into the third tent and sees one frantic medic running between at least ten beds with soldiers on them. She pushes past her guide then, and grabs the medic’s arm. He turns to her, blood dots his blue scrubs.

“Are you hurt?” He says quickly, looking her up and down. She refrains from smiling and shakes her head.

“I’m a,” Lyra hesitates to say Healer, it feels pretentious in front of this man who is literally saving lives, “A medic. I’m here to help.” She finishes and his shoulders slump down with visible relief. 

“Thank goodness. Will you start at the other end of the beds?” He hands her a belt with wristbands spilling out of the pockets. “Blue wristbands are for non-critical patients, red wristbands are for critical patients. After you finish classifying, start with the critical patients.” He looks down at her as she clips the belt around her waist. “Sir.” He finishes quickly after he sees the lightsaber hanging by her hip. Lyra waves him off.

“Lyra is fine. Clearly, you’re more in charge than I am.” She takes off her robe and her saber and throws them in the back of the tent, near what looks like a supply tower. She heads towards the other end of the row of beds and starts triaging for injuries. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him as she unbuckles a soldier’s chestplate to get a better look at his injury. The medic pauses and looks over at her with a strange look on his face.

“Stitches.” He says and she cracks a smile. 

“Not a bad name for a medic.” Lyra looks up at him and the strange look on his face hasn’t changed. She decides to ignore it, and she reaches to lift the helmet off the soldier. She balks when she lifts the helmet, “He…” She looks back up at the medic and down to her patient. They have the same face. “Are you two relat-'' She starts to ask but then Healer Allie throws the curtains open and marches into the tent.

“Naberrie, thank goodness.” Lyra stands quickly and Allie nods at her. “We’ve been looking for you. There are Jedi who need you.” She goes to turn around, but Lyra stops her.

“Healer Allie, I’m busy here.” Lyra gestures to the tent full of soldiers and Stitches behind her who hasn’t picked his head up since Allie walked in.

“These are just soldiers.” She waves her hand and Lyra takes a step back in shock, “They can handle their own.” Allie sees the look on Lyra’s face and sighs. “We have more soldiers, we don’t have very many more Jedi.” Stitches still hasn’t looked at Lyra and she makes her decision then. 

“You can handle the Jedi without me,” Lyra steps back to the soldier she was helping and ignores Healer Allie’s second sigh. “These men need me more than you do.” Lyra places her hands on the soldier in front of her and begins healing him. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra whispers as Healer Allie huffs and leaves the tent. Lyra can feel the calming presence of the Living Force sweep through her body.

The process is quick in this case; his wound was clear of shrapnel. His bleeding stops as Lyra knits his flesh back together and when she’s finished, she looks up to see Stitches staring at her with his mouth open. 

“How?” He asks and she smiles as the slight glow fades from her hands; she moves to the next soldier.

“The Force.” Lyra says and shrugs. Stitches’ face hasn’t changed much and she laughs again. She starts healing the next soldier and looks at Stitches again. “Now, explain to me why you all have the same face.”

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

taglist: @lady--kenobi @sleepingsun501 @cocolinagoodnight

Join the Taglist!

[book-of-baba-fett]

I LOVED this introduction to Lyra!! I can already tell how strong of a character she is. And I can’t wait to see how this story develops!

[abandoned-by-destiny]

i’m so happy you liked it!!

thanks for reblogging💕

- @writingbylee

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 1

fic masterlist // series masterlist // next chapter

Rating: General (hi this fic as a whole is explicit so minors PLS DNI okay thank youuuuuu)

Tags: canon-typical violence, wound care and other generic medical things (nothing explicit)

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Arena on Geonosis // Year: 22 BBY

Waiting for the signal in the tunnel around the arena feels like agony. Lyra can feel Master Plo’s amusement from behind her as they both wait for Master Windu’s force signal to all of the Jedi around the arena. She’s never seen so many in one place except for the temple and there’s not a Padawan in sight. She bounces on her toes, fingers itching for her lightsaber. 

“Patience, young one.” Master Plo’s voice rumbles from behind her and she turns to face him. “We will go when the time is right, and not before.” He chastens her slightly, but she knows it is in kindness. She nods, struck again by the lack of weight on the right side of her head. It’s been a few months since she was Knighted, but she’s still getting used to not having her Padawan braid anymore. 

“I know, Master. But you can’t blame me for being nervous.” Lyra says to him and he laughs quietly. 

“Take a deep breath. Channel your nerves to the Force, and you will calm.” He says, still laughing slightly. Calm was hardly ever a word people used to describe her. She takes a deep breath like he tells her to, and feels slightly better. Truthfully, she’s more worried about Padmé. She’s supposed to be dead about fifty feet to Lyra’s right. 

Master Plo and Lyra both straighten at the same time, the Force vibrating around them. He takes two steps towards the entrance of the tunnel, his lightsaber already in his hand. He motions to the two Jedi down the way from them as she unhooks her own saber from her belt. The other Jedi exit first, and Plo and Lyra swiftly follow them. 

They emerge into the sun, Jedi wreathing the balcony of the arena. Across the way, on the dais, they can see Master Windu’s purple blade ignite across someone’s throat. She takes two steps forward, standing at the edge of the balcony. Master Plo and Master Mundi are on either side of her, and a sharp spike of alarm shoots up her spine as she looks down at her sister surrounded by destroyers. 

Padmé is on the back of a reek with Anakin and Obi-Wan; and as all the Jedi around the arena ignite their lightsabers, she feels a sense of relief from all three of them. Lyra ignites her own saber, the dark green blade feeling like an extension of her arm. 

Blaster fire erupts from behind them as battle droids flood the arena. She didn’t wear her robe, but Master Plo and Master Mundi are immediately caught in fire-ridden fabric. She blocks blaster bolts for both of them until she gets pushed to the edge of the balcony. She turns and dives over the edge, trusting the two Jedi Masters to be able to handle themselves. She lands in a roll in the center of a battalion of B-1 droids. She starts swinging her saber and runs towards the last place she saw Padmé. 

“Lyra!” She turns at the sound of her name and sees Anakin in the back of a chariot with Padmé riding the orray. She reaches her hand out and Anakin swings her up into the chariot behind him. 

“Are you alright?” Padmé and Lyra call towards each other in unison. Lyra smiles in Padme’s direction as she stands back to back with Anakin, blocking shots and taking out droids as they ride past. The orray gets shot as they round a curve and the chariot falls. Padmé falls forward as the back of the chariot tips with Anakin and Lyra caught in the cart. Lyra steps out first, and force-pulls Padmé back into the cart as Anakin continues to block blaster bolts. 

“Your back, let me see it.” Lyra tries to turn Padmé, but Padmé brushes her hands away.

“There’s no time. You can heal me later.” Padmé shoots at something over Lyra’s shoulder. Lyra smiles at her.

“It’s good to see you too.” Lyra says, turning to face the arena again. She kneels next to Anakin as she disengages her saber and starts using the Force.

“You call this a diplomatic solution?’ Anakin quips towards Padmé as she shoots the arm off a B-2 battle droid.

“No,” Padmé flicks some hair out of her eye and shoots another droid about to kill Anakin, “I call it aggressive negotiations.” Lyra sees them smile at each other out of the corner of her eye and resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Flirt later, lovebirds. We’re a little busy at the moment.” Anakin’s cheeks turn red and Padmé laughs. Something jumps over them and lands a few feet away. Lyra recognizes the back of the nexu that had been tasked with killing her sister. Anakin's eyes darken, but Lyra grabs his arm. “Stay with her. This one’s mine.” She whispers and sees the understanding flit across his face.

Lyra slides out of the cart and ignites her saber. The green blade sings in her hand as she swipes it across the field, slicing off the nexu’s tail. It screams and whips around to face her, already off balance from the loss of its tail. She smiles and starts running, leading it away from Anakin and Padmé. It screeches again and takes off to follow her. 

Lyra deflects blaster bolts while she runs, directing them back towards the animal. She spins around once she gets to the arena wall and slices off one of its front limbs as it approaches her, full tilt. The nexu buckles and she slices off a back limb this time. It falls, unable to stand. It screams at her, probably thinking it can goad her into getting closer to its teeth. 

“This is for Padmé.” Lyra whispers to it, and then, in one clean motion, she slices its head off. She leaves its mangled corpse at the edge of the arena, and sprints back towards the fighting.

Lyra doesn't know how much longer the fighting goes on before the remaining Jedi are circled in the middle of the arena. The firing stops suddenly, and Lyra realizes that she’s standing next to Padmé and Anakin again. 

“Master Windu,” Dooku’s voice booms from his place on the dais, “You have fought gallantly. Worthy of recognition in the archives of the Jedi Order.” He pauses, probably for his own satisfaction. The droids push a few straggling Jedi into the circle with the rest of them, and she sees Plo enter the circle from her periphery. “Now it is finished,” Dooku continues his speech, “Surrender, and your lives will be spared.” Lyra scoffs under her breath, and she can feel that she’s not alone in her sentiment.

“We will not be hostages to be bartered, Dooku!” Master Windu calls back; his voice carrying more authority than Dooku’s ever could. 

“Then, I’m sorry, old friend.” Dooku sounds as if he’s actually sorry for a moment, but they all know better. The droids all point their blasters at the Jedi in unison, and they can all feel the tension rise. Anakin and Lyra both take a step in front of Padmé, and she points her stolen blaster over their joined shoulders. Lyra raises her lightsaber and ready herself for a fight.

“Look!” Padmé calls and they all glance up. There are ships blotting out the sun and the sky. Large ships shaped like arrowheads high above in the atmosphere, and smaller ships descending towards them in the arena. She can see the outline of Yoda in the ship closest to the ground, and she does a remarkable job of hiding her distaste. Humanoid figures in white armor fill the ships that land on the ground and the droids immediately open fire. The Jedi return in kind, deflecting bolts as the ships mow down row after row of battle droids.

The ships land around them, blocking the blaster fire. Lyra runs for the nearest ship, which happens to be the one with Yoda, Master Windu, and Master Mundi. Master Mundi and Lyra both reach a hand out and haul Master Fisto on board as well. The armored figures fill the space around them, and Lyra tries her best not to feel small. The ships take off and all the people around her grab onto the ropes hanging above. She can almost reach, but Master Windu holds his arm out towards her. She grabs on and thanks him.

“If Dooku escapes, rally more systems to his cause, he will.” Yoda speaks directly to Master Windu and Master Mundi, completely ignoring her existence. They swing around a tall rock spire and more ships appear in front of them. They start to descend to the ground when a ship gets blown out of the sky next to them.

“Pilot!” Master Windu calls over the wind, “Land in that assembly area.” The pilot turns their head and nods.

“Yes, sir.” A deep male voice comes from the helmet as the pilot follows Master Windu’s orders. They land and Masters Windu, Mundi, and Fisto all jump from the ship. There are more armored people, men Lyra assumes, waiting for them.

“Sir, I have five special commando units awaiting your orders, sir.” The man in yellow and white armor tells Master Windu as they all jog up. Master Windu nods and points, and the men follow him. Lyra turns to the pilot and takes a few steps closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Has a triage area been set up?” She asks and he nods. 

“Yes, sir.” He responds and she does her best to ignore how strange it feels to be called sir. 

“Take me.” She says, before a voice pipes up behind her.

“To the forward command center, take me.” Yoda says to the person next to him and the pilot takes off.

“Triage is on the way, sir, we’ll drop you off.” The pilot calls back to Lyra. She rests her hand on his shoulder briefly.

“Thank you.” She calls over the wind again and then steps back into the main belly of the ship. She can feel Yoda’s gaze on her, but she ignores him. The ship lowers again and the pilot looks back at her. Lyra nods and hops off before the ship hits the ground. She covers her eyes as the ship takes off once again, and flies into the distance. 

She turns and sees three large white tents with haphazard medical symbols painted on them. She pushes through the curtain of the middle tent and steps into chaos. Another person in the same white armor as everyone else approaches her. 

“Are you injured?” A male voice asks, a voice strikingly similar to that of the pilot.

“No. Is there a Jedi Healer here?” She asks and the man stiffens in front of her.

“We do our job very well, sir. There aren’t any Jedi in here.” His voice is still respectful, but she can tell he’s angry. 

“No, that isn’t why I asked.” Lyra tries to fix her sentence but she realizes that there isn’t any saving it. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “I wanted to know who was in charge. I’m here to help.” The man looks her up and down, and then his shoulders soften. 

“The chief medical officer is in the back, but our third tent is understaffed.” He says and she smiles.

“Will you show me?” Lyra asks, and he leads her out of the tent. She follows him into the third tent and sees one frantic medic running between at least ten beds with soldiers on them. She pushes past her guide then, and grabs the medic’s arm. He turns to her, blood dots his blue scrubs.

“Are you hurt?” He says quickly, looking her up and down. She refrains from smiling and shakes her head.

“I’m a,” Lyra hesitates to say Healer, it feels pretentious in front of this man who is literally saving lives, “A medic. I’m here to help.” She finishes and his shoulders slump down with visible relief. 

“Thank goodness. Will you start at the other end of the beds?” He hands her a belt with wristbands spilling out of the pockets. “Blue wristbands are for non-critical patients, red wristbands are for critical patients. After you finish classifying, start with the critical patients.” He looks down at her as she clips the belt around her waist. “Sir.” He finishes quickly after he sees the lightsaber hanging by her hip. Lyra waves him off.

“Lyra is fine. Clearly, you’re more in charge than I am.” She takes off her robe and her saber and throws them in the back of the tent, near what looks like a supply tower. She heads towards the other end of the row of beds and starts triaging for injuries. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him as she unbuckles a soldier’s chestplate to get a better look at his injury. The medic pauses and looks over at her with a strange look on his face.

“Stitches.” He says and she cracks a smile. 

“Not a bad name for a medic.” Lyra looks up at him and the strange look on his face hasn’t changed. She decides to ignore it, and she reaches to lift the helmet off the soldier. She balks when she lifts the helmet, “He…” She looks back up at the medic and down to her patient. They have the same face. “Are you two relat-'' She starts to ask but then Healer Allie throws the curtains open and marches into the tent.

“Naberrie, thank goodness.” Lyra stands quickly and Allie nods at her. “We’ve been looking for you. There are Jedi who need you.” She goes to turn around, but Lyra stops her.

“Healer Allie, I’m busy here.” Lyra gestures to the tent full of soldiers and Stitches behind her who hasn’t picked his head up since Allie walked in.

“These are just soldiers.” She waves her hand and Lyra takes a step back in shock, “They can handle their own.” Allie sees the look on Lyra’s face and sighs. “We have more soldiers, we don’t have very many more Jedi.” Stitches still hasn’t looked at Lyra and she makes her decision then. 

“You can handle the Jedi without me,” Lyra steps back to the soldier she was helping and ignores Healer Allie’s second sigh. “These men need me more than you do.” Lyra places her hands on the soldier in front of her and begins healing him. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra whispers as Healer Allie huffs and leaves the tent. Lyra can feel the calming presence of the Living Force sweep through her body.

The process is quick in this case; his wound was clear of shrapnel. His bleeding stops as Lyra knits his flesh back together and when she’s finished, she looks up to see Stitches staring at her with his mouth open. 

“How?” He asks and she smiles as the slight glow fades from her hands; she moves to the next soldier.

“The Force.” Lyra says and shrugs. Stitches’ face hasn’t changed much and she laughs again. She starts healing the next soldier and looks at Stitches again. “Now, explain to me why you all have the same face.”

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

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Chapter 1

fic masterlist // series masterlist // next chapter

Rating: General (hi this fic as a whole is explicit so minors PLS DNI okay thank youuuuuu)

Tags: canon-typical violence, wound care and other generic medical things (nothing explicit)

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Arena on Geonosis // Year: 22 BBY

Waiting for the signal in the tunnel around the arena feels like agony. Lyra can feel Master Plo’s amusement from behind her as they both wait for Master Windu’s force signal to all of the Jedi around the arena. She’s never seen so many in one place except for the temple and there’s not a Padawan in sight. She bounces on her toes, fingers itching for her lightsaber. 

“Patience, young one.” Master Plo’s voice rumbles from behind her and she turns to face him. “We will go when the time is right, and not before.” He chastens her slightly, but she knows it is in kindness. She nods, struck again by the lack of weight on the right side of her head. It’s been a few months since she was Knighted, but she’s still getting used to not having her Padawan braid anymore. 

“I know, Master. But you can’t blame me for being nervous.” Lyra says to him and he laughs quietly. 

“Take a deep breath. Channel your nerves to the Force, and you will calm.” He says, still laughing slightly. Calm was hardly ever a word people used to describe her. She takes a deep breath like he tells her to, and feels slightly better. Truthfully, she’s more worried about Padmé. She’s supposed to be dead about fifty feet to Lyra’s right. 

Master Plo and Lyra both straighten at the same time, the Force vibrating around them. He takes two steps towards the entrance of the tunnel, his lightsaber already in his hand. He motions to the two Jedi down the way from them as she unhooks her own saber from her belt. The other Jedi exit first, and Plo and Lyra swiftly follow them. 

They emerge into the sun, Jedi wreathing the balcony of the arena. Across the way, on the dais, they can see Master Windu’s purple blade ignite across someone’s throat. She takes two steps forward, standing at the edge of the balcony. Master Plo and Master Mundi are on either side of her, and a sharp spike of alarm shoots up her spine as she looks down at her sister surrounded by destroyers. 

Padmé is on the back of a reek with Anakin and Obi-Wan; and as all the Jedi around the arena ignite their lightsabers, she feels a sense of relief from all three of them. Lyra ignites her own saber, the dark green blade feeling like an extension of her arm. 

Blaster fire erupts from behind them as battle droids flood the arena. She didn’t wear her robe, but Master Plo and Master Mundi are immediately caught in fire-ridden fabric. She blocks blaster bolts for both of them until she gets pushed to the edge of the balcony. She turns and dives over the edge, trusting the two Jedi Masters to be able to handle themselves. She lands in a roll in the center of a battalion of B-1 droids. She starts swinging her saber and runs towards the last place she saw Padmé. 

“Lyra!” She turns at the sound of her name and sees Anakin in the back of a chariot with Padmé riding the orray. She reaches her hand out and Anakin swings her up into the chariot behind him. 

“Are you alright?” Padmé and Lyra call towards each other in unison. Lyra smiles in Padme’s direction as she stands back to back with Anakin, blocking shots and taking out droids as they ride past. The orray gets shot as they round a curve and the chariot falls. Padmé falls forward as the back of the chariot tips with Anakin and Lyra caught in the cart. Lyra steps out first, and force-pulls Padmé back into the cart as Anakin continues to block blaster bolts. 

“Your back, let me see it.” Lyra tries to turn Padmé, but Padmé brushes her hands away.

“There’s no time. You can heal me later.” Padmé shoots at something over Lyra’s shoulder. Lyra smiles at her.

“It’s good to see you too.” Lyra says, turning to face the arena again. She kneels next to Anakin as she disengages her saber and starts using the Force.

“You call this a diplomatic solution?’ Anakin quips towards Padmé as she shoots the arm off a B-2 battle droid.

“No,” Padmé flicks some hair out of her eye and shoots another droid about to kill Anakin, “I call it aggressive negotiations.” Lyra sees them smile at each other out of the corner of her eye and resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Flirt later, lovebirds. We’re a little busy at the moment.” Anakin’s cheeks turn red and Padmé laughs. Something jumps over them and lands a few feet away. Lyra recognizes the back of the nexu that had been tasked with killing her sister. Anakin's eyes darken, but Lyra grabs his arm. “Stay with her. This one’s mine.” She whispers and sees the understanding flit across his face.

Lyra slides out of the cart and ignites her saber. The green blade sings in her hand as she swipes it across the field, slicing off the nexu’s tail. It screams and whips around to face her, already off balance from the loss of its tail. She smiles and starts running, leading it away from Anakin and Padmé. It screeches again and takes off to follow her. 

Lyra deflects blaster bolts while she runs, directing them back towards the animal. She spins around once she gets to the arena wall and slices off one of its front limbs as it approaches her, full tilt. The nexu buckles and she slices off a back limb this time. It falls, unable to stand. It screams at her, probably thinking it can goad her into getting closer to its teeth. 

“This is for Padmé.” Lyra whispers to it, and then, in one clean motion, she slices its head off. She leaves its mangled corpse at the edge of the arena, and sprints back towards the fighting.

Lyra doesn't know how much longer the fighting goes on before the remaining Jedi are circled in the middle of the arena. The firing stops suddenly, and Lyra realizes that she’s standing next to Padmé and Anakin again. 

“Master Windu,” Dooku’s voice booms from his place on the dais, “You have fought gallantly. Worthy of recognition in the archives of the Jedi Order.” He pauses, probably for his own satisfaction. The droids push a few straggling Jedi into the circle with the rest of them, and she sees Plo enter the circle from her periphery. “Now it is finished,” Dooku continues his speech, “Surrender, and your lives will be spared.” Lyra scoffs under her breath, and she can feel that she’s not alone in her sentiment.

“We will not be hostages to be bartered, Dooku!” Master Windu calls back; his voice carrying more authority than Dooku’s ever could. 

“Then, I’m sorry, old friend.” Dooku sounds as if he’s actually sorry for a moment, but they all know better. The droids all point their blasters at the Jedi in unison, and they can all feel the tension rise. Anakin and Lyra both take a step in front of Padmé, and she points her stolen blaster over their joined shoulders. Lyra raises her lightsaber and ready herself for a fight.

“Look!” Padmé calls and they all glance up. There are ships blotting out the sun and the sky. Large ships shaped like arrowheads high above in the atmosphere, and smaller ships descending towards them in the arena. She can see the outline of Yoda in the ship closest to the ground, and she does a remarkable job of hiding her distaste. Humanoid figures in white armor fill the ships that land on the ground and the droids immediately open fire. The Jedi return in kind, deflecting bolts as the ships mow down row after row of battle droids.

The ships land around them, blocking the blaster fire. Lyra runs for the nearest ship, which happens to be the one with Yoda, Master Windu, and Master Mundi. Master Mundi and Lyra both reach a hand out and haul Master Fisto on board as well. The armored figures fill the space around them, and Lyra tries her best not to feel small. The ships take off and all the people around her grab onto the ropes hanging above. She can almost reach, but Master Windu holds his arm out towards her. She grabs on and thanks him.

“If Dooku escapes, rally more systems to his cause, he will.” Yoda speaks directly to Master Windu and Master Mundi, completely ignoring her existence. They swing around a tall rock spire and more ships appear in front of them. They start to descend to the ground when a ship gets blown out of the sky next to them.

“Pilot!” Master Windu calls over the wind, “Land in that assembly area.” The pilot turns their head and nods.

“Yes, sir.” A deep male voice comes from the helmet as the pilot follows Master Windu’s orders. They land and Masters Windu, Mundi, and Fisto all jump from the ship. There are more armored people, men Lyra assumes, waiting for them.

“Sir, I have five special commando units awaiting your orders, sir.” The man in yellow and white armor tells Master Windu as they all jog up. Master Windu nods and points, and the men follow him. Lyra turns to the pilot and takes a few steps closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Has a triage area been set up?” She asks and he nods. 

“Yes, sir.” He responds and she does her best to ignore how strange it feels to be called sir. 

“Take me.” She says, before a voice pipes up behind her.

“To the forward command center, take me.” Yoda says to the person next to him and the pilot takes off.

“Triage is on the way, sir, we’ll drop you off.” The pilot calls back to Lyra. She rests her hand on his shoulder briefly.

“Thank you.” She calls over the wind again and then steps back into the main belly of the ship. She can feel Yoda’s gaze on her, but she ignores him. The ship lowers again and the pilot looks back at her. Lyra nods and hops off before the ship hits the ground. She covers her eyes as the ship takes off once again, and flies into the distance. 

She turns and sees three large white tents with haphazard medical symbols painted on them. She pushes through the curtain of the middle tent and steps into chaos. Another person in the same white armor as everyone else approaches her. 

“Are you injured?” A male voice asks, a voice strikingly similar to that of the pilot.

“No. Is there a Jedi Healer here?” She asks and the man stiffens in front of her.

“We do our job very well, sir. There aren’t any Jedi in here.” His voice is still respectful, but she can tell he’s angry. 

“No, that isn’t why I asked.” Lyra tries to fix her sentence but she realizes that there isn’t any saving it. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “I wanted to know who was in charge. I’m here to help.” The man looks her up and down, and then his shoulders soften. 

“The chief medical officer is in the back, but our third tent is understaffed.” He says and she smiles.

“Will you show me?” Lyra asks, and he leads her out of the tent. She follows him into the third tent and sees one frantic medic running between at least ten beds with soldiers on them. She pushes past her guide then, and grabs the medic’s arm. He turns to her, blood dots his blue scrubs.

“Are you hurt?” He says quickly, looking her up and down. She refrains from smiling and shakes her head.

“I’m a,” Lyra hesitates to say Healer, it feels pretentious in front of this man who is literally saving lives, “A medic. I’m here to help.” She finishes and his shoulders slump down with visible relief. 

“Thank goodness. Will you start at the other end of the beds?” He hands her a belt with wristbands spilling out of the pockets. “Blue wristbands are for non-critical patients, red wristbands are for critical patients. After you finish classifying, start with the critical patients.” He looks down at her as she clips the belt around her waist. “Sir.” He finishes quickly after he sees the lightsaber hanging by her hip. Lyra waves him off.

“Lyra is fine. Clearly, you’re more in charge than I am.” She takes off her robe and her saber and throws them in the back of the tent, near what looks like a supply tower. She heads towards the other end of the row of beds and starts triaging for injuries. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him as she unbuckles a soldier’s chestplate to get a better look at his injury. The medic pauses and looks over at her with a strange look on his face.

“Stitches.” He says and she cracks a smile. 

“Not a bad name for a medic.” Lyra looks up at him and the strange look on his face hasn’t changed. She decides to ignore it, and she reaches to lift the helmet off the soldier. She balks when she lifts the helmet, “He…” She looks back up at the medic and down to her patient. They have the same face. “Are you two relat-'' She starts to ask but then Healer Allie throws the curtains open and marches into the tent.

“Naberrie, thank goodness.” Lyra stands quickly and Allie nods at her. “We’ve been looking for you. There are Jedi who need you.” She goes to turn around, but Lyra stops her.

“Healer Allie, I’m busy here.” Lyra gestures to the tent full of soldiers and Stitches behind her who hasn’t picked his head up since Allie walked in.

“These are just soldiers.” She waves her hand and Lyra takes a step back in shock, “They can handle their own.” Allie sees the look on Lyra’s face and sighs. “We have more soldiers, we don’t have very many more Jedi.” Stitches still hasn’t looked at Lyra and she makes her decision then. 

“You can handle the Jedi without me,” Lyra steps back to the soldier she was helping and ignores Healer Allie’s second sigh. “These men need me more than you do.” Lyra places her hands on the soldier in front of her and begins healing him. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra whispers as Healer Allie huffs and leaves the tent. Lyra can feel the calming presence of the Living Force sweep through her body.

The process is quick in this case; his wound was clear of shrapnel. His bleeding stops as Lyra knits his flesh back together and when she’s finished, she looks up to see Stitches staring at her with his mouth open. 

“How?” He asks and she smiles as the slight glow fades from her hands; she moves to the next soldier.

“The Force.” Lyra says and shrugs. Stitches’ face hasn’t changed much and she laughs again. She starts healing the next soldier and looks at Stitches again. “Now, explain to me why you all have the same face.”

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

taglist: @lady--kenobi @sleepingsun501 @cocolinagoodnight

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[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 1

fic masterlist // series masterlist // next chapter

Rating: General (hi this fic as a whole is explicit so minors PLS DNI okay thank youuuuuu)

Tags: canon-typical violence, wound care and other generic medical things (nothing explicit)

divider by: @djarrex

Location: The Arena on Geonosis // Year: 22 BBY

Waiting for the signal in the tunnel around the arena feels like agony. Lyra can feel Master Plo’s amusement from behind her as they both wait for Master Windu’s force signal to all of the Jedi around the arena. She’s never seen so many in one place except for the temple and there’s not a Padawan in sight. She bounces on her toes, fingers itching for her lightsaber. 

“Patience, young one.” Master Plo’s voice rumbles from behind her and she turns to face him. “We will go when the time is right, and not before.” He chastens her slightly, but she knows it is in kindness. She nods, struck again by the lack of weight on the right side of her head. It’s been a few months since she was Knighted, but she’s still getting used to not having her Padawan braid anymore. 

“I know, Master. But you can’t blame me for being nervous.” Lyra says to him and he laughs quietly. 

“Take a deep breath. Channel your nerves to the Force, and you will calm.” He says, still laughing slightly. Calm was hardly ever a word people used to describe her. She takes a deep breath like he tells her to, and feels slightly better. Truthfully, she’s more worried about Padmé. She’s supposed to be dead about fifty feet to Lyra’s right. 

Master Plo and Lyra both straighten at the same time, the Force vibrating around them. He takes two steps towards the entrance of the tunnel, his lightsaber already in his hand. He motions to the two Jedi down the way from them as she unhooks her own saber from her belt. The other Jedi exit first, and Plo and Lyra swiftly follow them. 

They emerge into the sun, Jedi wreathing the balcony of the arena. Across the way, on the dais, they can see Master Windu’s purple blade ignite across someone’s throat. She takes two steps forward, standing at the edge of the balcony. Master Plo and Master Mundi are on either side of her, and a sharp spike of alarm shoots up her spine as she looks down at her sister surrounded by destroyers. 

Padmé is on the back of a reek with Anakin and Obi-Wan; and as all the Jedi around the arena ignite their lightsabers, she feels a sense of relief from all three of them. Lyra ignites her own saber, the dark green blade feeling like an extension of her arm. 

Blaster fire erupts from behind them as battle droids flood the arena. She didn’t wear her robe, but Master Plo and Master Mundi are immediately caught in fire-ridden fabric. She blocks blaster bolts for both of them until she gets pushed to the edge of the balcony. She turns and dives over the edge, trusting the two Jedi Masters to be able to handle themselves. She lands in a roll in the center of a battalion of B-1 droids. She starts swinging her saber and runs towards the last place she saw Padmé. 

“Lyra!” She turns at the sound of her name and sees Anakin in the back of a chariot with Padmé riding the orray. She reaches her hand out and Anakin swings her up into the chariot behind him. 

“Are you alright?” Padmé and Lyra call towards each other in unison. Lyra smiles in Padme’s direction as she stands back to back with Anakin, blocking shots and taking out droids as they ride past. The orray gets shot as they round a curve and the chariot falls. Padmé falls forward as the back of the chariot tips with Anakin and Lyra caught in the cart. Lyra steps out first, and force-pulls Padmé back into the cart as Anakin continues to block blaster bolts. 

“Your back, let me see it.” Lyra tries to turn Padmé, but Padmé brushes her hands away.

“There’s no time. You can heal me later.” Padmé shoots at something over Lyra’s shoulder. Lyra smiles at her.

“It’s good to see you too.” Lyra says, turning to face the arena again. She kneels next to Anakin as she disengages her saber and starts using the Force.

“You call this a diplomatic solution?’ Anakin quips towards Padmé as she shoots the arm off a B-2 battle droid.

“No,” Padmé flicks some hair out of her eye and shoots another droid about to kill Anakin, “I call it aggressive negotiations.” Lyra sees them smile at each other out of the corner of her eye and resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Flirt later, lovebirds. We’re a little busy at the moment.” Anakin’s cheeks turn red and Padmé laughs. Something jumps over them and lands a few feet away. Lyra recognizes the back of the nexu that had been tasked with killing her sister. Anakin's eyes darken, but Lyra grabs his arm. “Stay with her. This one’s mine.” She whispers and sees the understanding flit across his face.

Lyra slides out of the cart and ignites her saber. The green blade sings in her hand as she swipes it across the field, slicing off the nexu’s tail. It screams and whips around to face her, already off balance from the loss of its tail. She smiles and starts running, leading it away from Anakin and Padmé. It screeches again and takes off to follow her. 

Lyra deflects blaster bolts while she runs, directing them back towards the animal. She spins around once she gets to the arena wall and slices off one of its front limbs as it approaches her, full tilt. The nexu buckles and she slices off a back limb this time. It falls, unable to stand. It screams at her, probably thinking it can goad her into getting closer to its teeth. 

“This is for Padmé.” Lyra whispers to it, and then, in one clean motion, she slices its head off. She leaves its mangled corpse at the edge of the arena, and sprints back towards the fighting.

Lyra doesn't know how much longer the fighting goes on before the remaining Jedi are circled in the middle of the arena. The firing stops suddenly, and Lyra realizes that she’s standing next to Padmé and Anakin again. 

“Master Windu,” Dooku’s voice booms from his place on the dais, “You have fought gallantly. Worthy of recognition in the archives of the Jedi Order.” He pauses, probably for his own satisfaction. The droids push a few straggling Jedi into the circle with the rest of them, and she sees Plo enter the circle from her periphery. “Now it is finished,” Dooku continues his speech, “Surrender, and your lives will be spared.” Lyra scoffs under her breath, and she can feel that she’s not alone in her sentiment.

“We will not be hostages to be bartered, Dooku!” Master Windu calls back; his voice carrying more authority than Dooku’s ever could. 

“Then, I’m sorry, old friend.” Dooku sounds as if he’s actually sorry for a moment, but they all know better. The droids all point their blasters at the Jedi in unison, and they can all feel the tension rise. Anakin and Lyra both take a step in front of Padmé, and she points her stolen blaster over their joined shoulders. Lyra raises her lightsaber and ready herself for a fight.

“Look!” Padmé calls and they all glance up. There are ships blotting out the sun and the sky. Large ships shaped like arrowheads high above in the atmosphere, and smaller ships descending towards them in the arena. She can see the outline of Yoda in the ship closest to the ground, and she does a remarkable job of hiding her distaste. Humanoid figures in white armor fill the ships that land on the ground and the droids immediately open fire. The Jedi return in kind, deflecting bolts as the ships mow down row after row of battle droids.

The ships land around them, blocking the blaster fire. Lyra runs for the nearest ship, which happens to be the one with Yoda, Master Windu, and Master Mundi. Master Mundi and Lyra both reach a hand out and haul Master Fisto on board as well. The armored figures fill the space around them, and Lyra tries her best not to feel small. The ships take off and all the people around her grab onto the ropes hanging above. She can almost reach, but Master Windu holds his arm out towards her. She grabs on and thanks him.

“If Dooku escapes, rally more systems to his cause, he will.” Yoda speaks directly to Master Windu and Master Mundi, completely ignoring her existence. They swing around a tall rock spire and more ships appear in front of them. They start to descend to the ground when a ship gets blown out of the sky next to them.

“Pilot!” Master Windu calls over the wind, “Land in that assembly area.” The pilot turns their head and nods.

“Yes, sir.” A deep male voice comes from the helmet as the pilot follows Master Windu’s orders. They land and Masters Windu, Mundi, and Fisto all jump from the ship. There are more armored people, men Lyra assumes, waiting for them.

“Sir, I have five special commando units awaiting your orders, sir.” The man in yellow and white armor tells Master Windu as they all jog up. Master Windu nods and points, and the men follow him. Lyra turns to the pilot and takes a few steps closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Has a triage area been set up?” She asks and he nods. 

“Yes, sir.” He responds and she does her best to ignore how strange it feels to be called sir. 

“Take me.” She says, before a voice pipes up behind her.

“To the forward command center, take me.” Yoda says to the person next to him and the pilot takes off.

“Triage is on the way, sir, we’ll drop you off.” The pilot calls back to Lyra. She rests her hand on his shoulder briefly.

“Thank you.” She calls over the wind again and then steps back into the main belly of the ship. She can feel Yoda’s gaze on her, but she ignores him. The ship lowers again and the pilot looks back at her. Lyra nods and hops off before the ship hits the ground. She covers her eyes as the ship takes off once again, and flies into the distance. 

She turns and sees three large white tents with haphazard medical symbols painted on them. She pushes through the curtain of the middle tent and steps into chaos. Another person in the same white armor as everyone else approaches her. 

“Are you injured?” A male voice asks, a voice strikingly similar to that of the pilot.

“No. Is there a Jedi Healer here?” She asks and the man stiffens in front of her.

“We do our job very well, sir. There aren’t any Jedi in here.” His voice is still respectful, but she can tell he’s angry. 

“No, that isn’t why I asked.” Lyra tries to fix her sentence but she realizes that there isn’t any saving it. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “I wanted to know who was in charge. I’m here to help.” The man looks her up and down, and then his shoulders soften. 

“The chief medical officer is in the back, but our third tent is understaffed.” He says and she smiles.

“Will you show me?” Lyra asks, and he leads her out of the tent. She follows him into the third tent and sees one frantic medic running between at least ten beds with soldiers on them. She pushes past her guide then, and grabs the medic’s arm. He turns to her, blood dots his blue scrubs.

“Are you hurt?” He says quickly, looking her up and down. She refrains from smiling and shakes her head.

“I’m a,” Lyra hesitates to say Healer, it feels pretentious in front of this man who is literally saving lives, “A medic. I’m here to help.” She finishes and his shoulders slump down with visible relief. 

“Thank goodness. Will you start at the other end of the beds?” He hands her a belt with wristbands spilling out of the pockets. “Blue wristbands are for non-critical patients, red wristbands are for critical patients. After you finish classifying, start with the critical patients.” He looks down at her as she clips the belt around her waist. “Sir.” He finishes quickly after he sees the lightsaber hanging by her hip. Lyra waves him off.

“Lyra is fine. Clearly, you’re more in charge than I am.” She takes off her robe and her saber and throws them in the back of the tent, near what looks like a supply tower. She heads towards the other end of the row of beds and starts triaging for injuries. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him as she unbuckles a soldier’s chestplate to get a better look at his injury. The medic pauses and looks over at her with a strange look on his face.

“Stitches.” He says and she cracks a smile. 

“Not a bad name for a medic.” Lyra looks up at him and the strange look on his face hasn’t changed. She decides to ignore it, and she reaches to lift the helmet off the soldier. She balks when she lifts the helmet, “He…” She looks back up at the medic and down to her patient. They have the same face. “Are you two relat-'' She starts to ask but then Healer Allie throws the curtains open and marches into the tent.

“Naberrie, thank goodness.” Lyra stands quickly and Allie nods at her. “We’ve been looking for you. There are Jedi who need you.” She goes to turn around, but Lyra stops her.

“Healer Allie, I’m busy here.” Lyra gestures to the tent full of soldiers and Stitches behind her who hasn’t picked his head up since Allie walked in.

“These are just soldiers.” She waves her hand and Lyra takes a step back in shock, “They can handle their own.” Allie sees the look on Lyra’s face and sighs. “We have more soldiers, we don’t have very many more Jedi.” Stitches still hasn’t looked at Lyra and she makes her decision then. 

“You can handle the Jedi without me,” Lyra steps back to the soldier she was helping and ignores Healer Allie’s second sigh. “These men need me more than you do.” Lyra places her hands on the soldier in front of her and begins healing him. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra whispers as Healer Allie huffs and leaves the tent. Lyra can feel the calming presence of the Living Force sweep through her body.

The process is quick in this case; his wound was clear of shrapnel. His bleeding stops as Lyra knits his flesh back together and when she’s finished, she looks up to see Stitches staring at her with his mouth open. 

“How?” He asks and she smiles as the slight glow fades from her hands; she moves to the next soldier.

“The Force.” Lyra says and shrugs. Stitches’ face hasn’t changed much and she laughs again. She starts healing the next soldier and looks at Stitches again. “Now, explain to me why you all have the same face.”

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

taglist: @lady--kenobi @sleepingsun501 @cocolinagoodnight

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[lesbianlyonelb]

AAAAAAAA

Okay first of all, I'm already hooked! I'm so excited to see where this goes!!! And you did such a good job of setting things up! It feels very natural and everything meshes so well

I'm ngl I want to know what the fuck Yoda's problem is already. Like. What's going on. What happened there that things between him and Lyra are clearly Like That. I need to know!

Also the end part??? Okay I know people would be dismissive of the clones, but also damn I'm mad about that! Like those men literally were out there trying to save lives, and Healer Allie is being just. Ugh. Good on Lyra for not backing down!

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Perse my beloved!!

hehehe yes her and Yoda for sure have some history, and i may or may not have a ficlet or two about that already written

i'm so happy you liked it!! thanks for commenting and reblogging 💕💕

- @writingbylee