Tyro barely noticed Stitch and Splinter moving about as he stared distantly off into space, his mind almost but not quite processing complete thoughts, all having something or other to do with duty or failure or Sparks or Ace...
"You're going to feel bot of a pinch," he heard Splinter saying. A moment later he felt warmth flood into his veins. He didn't want to leave Sparks behind, didn't they know that? What was Sparks thinking right now? Had he been waiting, hoping his friends would come save him, only to be sitting there feeling alone and abandoned? But Ace and Champ were feeling that way too. Tyro was feeling that way. If Gavyn was here he would have known what was right. He knew the rules to this military stuff, he would have been able to find Sparks probably. He wouldn't have let it happen in the first place. A tear slipped down his cheek. Sure he had to learn this stuff eventually but why did it have to be like this? Sparks didn't deserve this.
"Aw come on now, that doesn't hurt too bad does it?" Splinter asked, concern slipping under his light words.
Tyro barely heard him. He had a responsibility to this crew and he couldn't even tell if he was failing them or not. He didn't know anything. "I want my master." The words slipped out in a choked sob without him even thinking.
At a loss, Splinter turned to Stitch.
Stitch didn't know what to say. Comforting crying children wasn't in his training. He tried to medically reason it away, the kid was exhausted, hungry, uncomfortable, and hypothermic. It was enough to make a grown man cry for no good reason. The worst part about this was there were plenty of good reasons. With another pained sob the boy curled up on his side and started to shiver.
"Shivering is good," Splinter tried, readjusting the blankets around the boy. "It means you're warming up."
What did you do with a crying teenager, let alone a Jedi? Stitch tried to think back to when he was that old. The what, few weeks he physically resembled that age? They hadn't had anyone they were particularly close to aside from one another, and even then Stitch had been distant. The Kaminoans had been cold, unfeeling, uncaring. It hadn't done much for his bedside manner. He could assure someone about their condition medically, but this was a whole other territory.
Unsure what else to do, Stitch pulled up a seat next to the sobbing, shivering teenager and began working on his frostbitten hands. He searched for something to say but he had never had a way with words. He doubted going over the facts and figures of his condition, let alone Sparks', or Ace's or Champ's was at all what Tyro wanted to hear right now. He could tell him that this happened, people died all the time whether or not a bad or good call was made, but that was also moot. The crying was starting to get to him though, and without really thinking he started to hum. It was some Mandalorian hymn or something, he had overheard his brothers singing it on occasion but not being trained with any of them, he himself did not know the words. Still, he found it calming and reassuring in its own right. It, or perhaps just sheer exhaustion, seemed to have a similar effect on the boy as well, and in a matter of minutes he closed his eyes, falling into a deep sleep.
Stitch watched the monitor for a minute, making sure Tyro was stable, before handing that duty over to Splinter. He still had to fill the rest of the crew in on the details about the search for Sparks and make sure they were back on track with their initial mission so that everything was ready to hand over to the Commander when he awoke.
