suitably_heroic | A Medical Facility, Manaan, Monday Fandom Time

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A Medical Facility, Manaan, Monday Fandom Time

"I can't believe he actually has friends," Mira muttered. "I mean, I know some of you saw one, but I'm still pretty sure that was just a vivid hallucination."

Mical plucked the comlink out of her hands. "He does," he said, "and I have just notified them of his present state. It is a shame we couldn't recover this earlier; I can only imagine they have been worried."

Mira rolled her eyes at him.

"... all right, he is overly abrasive," Mical allowed. "But he took a beating because we could not exercise patience." He looked up towards the kolto tank that still held Atton's now largely-healed body. Unfortunately, they had not been in time, and some of the scars that loomed large across the man's torso and arms were... ugly.

At least they had been received well here in Ahto City. It made things easier - and gave them a chance to consider the future.

"They're planning to take him out in about ten minutes," Mira said, hopping off the cabinet she'd been sitting on. "Do you wanna be here when he gets out? Because I don't. Someone's going to have to tell him about Meetra."

"True," Mical said. "Perhaps we'll be lucky and he will take it with grace..."

"I wouldn't count on it," she said, strolling past him and out of the room.

He blew out a sigh and turned back towards the tank. "I suppose I will be here, then..."

[[ for those who know who they are - and a little bit of ocd ]]

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It wouldn't be more than a few minutes before it all began - the resident Selkath moved into action, beginning the process of draining the kolto. Mical stayed on hand, glancing back and forth between the tank and the entrance - just in case someone made it in.

Atton himself paid no such attention. In that tank, he was a mess of muscle and scars and the faint hint of an old Sith tattoo by his hip - and no consciousness to speak of.

Until the breathing mask came off, anyway.

Anakin stood by the tank, trying to distract himself with the ancient tech (as he was still a snob about that), instead of focusing on the number of scars a kid that young had managed to rack up.

He wasn't worried. Shush.

It took some time for the worry Anakin radiated to become a nuisance, but in time it did. "He will be all right," Mical said. "The Selkath have assured me that nothing vital has been-- removed."

"I did a quick appendage check already," Anakin admitted. "It's only prudent when you're fighting with lightsabers. Did anyone use Force lightning?"

Because that stuff hurt like a bitch.

"On him?" Mical asked. He shot the tall - and apparently extremely Force sensitive, to the point where it felt almost terrifying - man a glance. "Not that I'm aware. This was all done by lightsaber or brute force."

Anakin winced. "What'd the other guy look like at the end of this?" he asked.

"From what I was told, Darth Sion merely reassembled himself," Mical said quietly. "I am not sure what would have happened had the Exile not come in."

"Atton certainly wouldn't have survived," Anakin said flatly. "Sion doesn't die unless he wants to die."

"Well. He is certainly dead now," Mical said. "And Atton is alive, through no small miracle."

"The will of the Force is mysterious," Anakin replied with a wry smile.

"So I have experienced," Mical agreed. He shot Anakin a wry look. "I fear we have a long and arduous task ahead of us."

Anakin nodded. "Isn't there always?"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Sparkle was murmuring under his breath as he watched the tank drain. Yeah, Atton was not looking too great. Sparkle was trying to figure out if this was better or worse than that one night in the warehouse.

Better, he settled on, based on the fact that they were in the process of getting him out of that thing and waking him up.

Even so.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"The worst is long since over," Mical said, in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "This is merely ceremony, if that."

That... did not actually make Sparkle feel much better, no.

"How bad was the worst?"

Where he was sitting, the worst was looking pretty not great.

Mical sighed.

"Ah... for a moment at the beginning, it looked as if they would be forced to amputate the arm," he said. "Or worse."

Sparkle made a face that suggested that he was realizing that he probably didn't actually want to know, after all.

"Ah. Shit." He swallowed, and then shook his head. "But, like, everything is all attached, right? He's not gonna get out of there and walk around for a bit and then realize he's been missing his spleen or something, oops?"

"The Selkath have worked very hard to ensure that he kept all of his appendages and organs, yes," Mical confirmed. "Unfortunately we arrived here too late, or they might have also been able to diminish the scarring..."

Sparkle frowned again, looking back up at the tank.

"So he wears more layers when he goes to the beach, now. At least he's alive." A beat. "Some people think scars are sexy."

Another beat.

"I'm going to punch his stupid face."

Sparkle was having feelings. Save yourself, Mical.

"That seems like a popular response where Atton is involved," Mical said.

He'd scarper off as soon as the procedure was complete; then he'd commiserate with Brianna about the oddness of it all.

Edited 2014-07-21 13:12 (UTC)

Sia was used to seeing some pretty serious injuries, so she was able to keep a nice stoic face as she watched the process. Honestly, she was just glad he was alive. The rest could be dealt with.

"Hello," Mical said, after a short while. If simply because it was worth rewarding someone who didn't... do what the others were doing. "I suppose 'welcome' might be the wrong word..."

"'Welcome' will do under the circumstances," Sia said with a tiny smile. "My apologies if we're inconveniencing you at all."

"Not at all," Mical said easily. "The others and I have been... regrouping, while Atton recovers."

He gave a little curtsy. "My name is Mical," he said. "I've traveled with him and the Exile for some time."

"Marasiah. It's good to meet you. I've heard a bit about your group," she said.

Mical would ignore the strange sensation of Atton glaring at him despite the fact that the man was currently in the middle of having his breath mask removed. He would. "Even so," he said, "If you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer them."

"How has he been doing?" she asked. "Aside from this."

"Mentally or physically?" Mical said. "He's a complicated man to get to know."

What with the constant threats and mockery.

"I've noticed," Sia said dryly. "Mentally."

~~Let's pretend I used the right icon up there.~~

"We didn't speak much," Mical admitted. "But his demeanor had been clearing up over the weeks since I met him. The Exile's influence, I believe. He led a team against the Sith on Dxun and came back in high spirits."

Sia paused. "I'm not sure I know what 'high spirits' are when it comes to Atton."

Well, he couldn't blame her for that.

"He seemed... more at peace," Mical said. "Or at least less inclined to take issue with whoever crossed his path."

"That's good," she said with a nod. "I think he needed that."

"Of course," Mical said, "The trial that followed-- Malachor V wasn't easy on any of us."

"Oh?" Maybe she'd get more information if she didn't ask.

"Many were killed there," Mical said distantly. "Years ago. The planet itself was ruined. Even discounting the Sith who had set up their Academy there, the surface was dangerous... and the deaths still echoed from it. Doubly so for those of us who had previously been affected by the tragedy."

When the process was complete, Atton was dropped off in a seat on the other side of the medical bay. They'd given him a tunic to put on - something he was now doing, while muttering vague insults under his breath.

Stupid kolto process.

Cade hated medical bays. Hated. He hated the smell, he hated the quiet, he hated everything about the sterile cleanness.

He wrapped his arms around himself, found a corner to push himself into where he could watch as many of the exits as possible and waited for Atton.

Sparkle wasn't even going to bother with words. Sparkle had been thinking of the important shit on his way out the door to get his ass here, and he'd packed the essentials.

Well. He'd packed one bottle of Fireball whiskey. Which he was silently offering to Cade now.

"I drank all of his other stuff," Cade said with a tiny, tiny smile as he accepted the bottle. "Tough poodoo for him."

"He had it coming," Sparkle declared, crouching down beside Cade. "He can't leave messages like the ones he left for me and then expect to come back to his booze stash, you know? Not going to happen."

"He told me to drink it," Cade said. "Wasn't gonna say no to that. Not with that kind of asshole message."

"Wait, he told you to drink his stash? Damn, he just told me not to be an idiot."

And so Sparkle had burned through what little alcohol he'd had on hand at the time, and then had screamed his throat raw trying to force Atton into answering the phone with the power of his voice alone.

Edited 2014-07-21 13:07 (UTC)

"That's 'cause he knows there's no way to talk me out of being an idiot," Cade said, drinking another swig from the bottle and handing it back to Sparkle.

Sparkle accepted the bottle and took a long swig from it, himself.

"This just tells me that I need to put more effort into being idiotic, now."

"We can go get tattoos," Cade suggested, "or get our ears pierced again?"

"Permanent decorative scarring and putting new holes into our heads is never the wrong answer," Sparkle decided. "I could go for that..."

"Astral," Cade said. "We'll find a place after they throw us out of here."

"We manage to get drunk enough, and I figure between the two of us, we can get 'Atton is a fucking idiot' tattooed to our asses."

It seemed apt. People tended to like cherishing big landmarks like that in their lives, right?

"Won't be stupider than a couple other ones I already have."

That is not a ringing endorsement for anything ever, Cade.

"... You know, sometimes a guy just has to go out and make stupid choices like that."

Stupid, permanent choices.

"Well, I do have a tattoo on the small of my back that says 'Totes', so this can't be stupider," Cade replied.

Sparkle opened his mouth at that. And then closed it again. And then opened it.

And then cackled and offered Cade the Fireball again.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you win."

"Sometimes I really wonder about my choices," Cade said, drinking again. "You know, months later, but still."

"Hey, it doesn't hurt to... you know, reflect. Think about what you've done. Be thankful that your tattoo says 'totes' and not, like, 'juicy.'"

See? It could always be worse!

"Or that not many people can read Chinese," Cade said, pointing to the one on the back of his neck.

"I'm afraid to ask what that says."

A beat.

"So you gotta tell me."

Cade heaved a heavy sigh. "It was supposed to say something good: quick and dangerous, right? It says fast and furious instead, which is not the same."

"Yeah, not really," Sparkle replied with a smirk. "Maybe next time, just get them to translate your name or something, man."

Such was the danger of getting a tattoo in a language you couldn't read, yourself.

But at least it looked good and didn't say "General Tso's Chicken?"

"Eh, I'm going back to a galaxy that's never even heard of Chinese," Cade said. "I'll make up what it says to them."

Took a couple of runs of the towel through his hair before it stopped being sticky before Atton considered himself halfway presentable or whatever, but fine. Presentable.

He was not going to think about how weird Cade looked all rolled up in a ball like that, because that just made him comfortable.

"You wouldn't happen to know how to get a decent bottle of juma in here?" he said, swaggering up to the guy out of physical awkwardness instead of intent.

"Ask Sparks," Cade said with a grin he couldn't hold in. "He came prepared. You look like poodoo."

"I feel like someone released an entire herd of bantha on me," Atton complained, "and then threw the poodoo in after them."

"Teach you to get into a stoopa...whatever the kark you did," Cade said, glaring. "Your message wasn't exactly heavy on detail."

"We went back to Malachor V," Atton said, dropping his head back against the wall. "Screws with your head."

Cade just stared for a long moment. "Well of course it karking would, stoopa. It's MALACHOR V."

Inside voice, Cade.

"Keep it down, keep it down," Atton snapped immediately. "Damn it, my head can't take this kind of thing. Anyway, I think we blew it up. Think. My head's a whole lot emptier, I can tell you that much."

Ten solid years of the echoes of screams in your brain - losing them now was kind of big.

"Good riddance to it, if so," Cade said, moderating his voice, which was as close to an apology as Cade ever gave. "Ugh."

"Ugh is about right," Atton said. "Space, I hate kolto baths. Never had one this long before, either."

"Beats the alternative," Cade said.

This would not be the appropriate time to admit he'd almost let himself die back on Malachor.

... Actually, it was Cade. There'd never be an appropriate time.

So Atton just shrugged. "Sure," he said, "but it's still a pain in the ass."

"And everywhere else," Cade said, "judging by the look of you."

"Hey, I still have all my limbs," Atton said, holding his arms up as proof. "That's a pretty good thing, right?"

"Compared to my relatives, it's pretty karking amazing," Cade admitted.

"So there you go," Atton said. A beat. "...Did you find my stash?"

Cade nodded. "Offered some to Sia, too. She didn't take me up on it."

Probably because it was about 10:30, Cade.

"Should've left a bottle at her place," Atton said. "She'd have gotten to it eventually."

"Yeah, but that would have involved effort."

So no.

"You're all heart, Cade," Atton said dryly.

"If I decided that particular moment to be nice, she'd think I'd poisoned her drink or something," Cade replied.

"Easy for you to say," Atton said lightly. "Did I miss anything?"

Not that he cared.

Cade shrugged. "Not really. More interested in what you were up to."

"Hanging out on Malachor V, fighting Sith Lords," Atton said. "You know, the usual."

"How is that the usual?" Cade retorted, pointing to a pair of uncomfortable medical bay chairs. "Sit down before you fall down."

It was amazing that Cade hadn't used his healing powers to get into medicine, wasn't it?

"I'm not going to let you order me around," Atton retorted. And he didn't feel that weak.

... He probably would again in five minutes. "And it's pretty much 'the usual' for the way the past few weeks have been."

"You need better friends," Cade, the guy who had just planned to get something pierced and tattooed with Sparkle on a planet he'd never been to in his life, declared.

"Yeah," Atton said, giving him a pointed look. "I think that every day. Wonder why."

"Probably because you just woke up naked floating in whatever gunk came before bacta," Cade said helpfully.

"No, probably because they called my friends, and you showed up," Atton said, rolling his eyes. "I mean, how long is it since the last time you did something stupid?"

"Other than planning to get a tattoo with Sparkle about ten minutes ago?"

"That'll end well," Atton said dryly.

"We're going to get 'Atton Rand is a fucking idiot' but I don't think our asses are big enough."

Thanks, Cade.

"You want to get my name on your ass that badly?" Atton said. "Sorry, but I'm still not interested."

"You'd be so lucky to get a piece of my ass," Cade replied. "It's prime real estate."

"What, you're selling it now? That's a new low," Atton said.

Boys. Boys.

Well, it was their attempt at normal, at least?

Cade glared at him. "Yes, Atton. You've been out of it so long I'm selling my ass on the street."

"Guess that was just inevitable," Atton said.

"There's only so much you can do with a high school diploma from a different galaxy."

"I went with 'smuggler' and 'gun for hire', then 'whoops, I helped save the galaxy'," Atton drawled. "But hey, your life choices are your life choices."

"Enough of my family's gone the saving the galaxy route," Cade said, "and most of 'em are dead for doing it. You look barely not-dead. Think I'll pass on that particular path."

"It wasn't exactly my first choice either," Atton retorted, "But I play with what the pazaak deck gives me."

"At least you're not blithering about the Force," Cade said with a small grin.

"Ew," Atton said succinctly.

Cade laughed. "There's the Atton I know."

"They say we're Jedi now, apparently," Atton said. "Don't remember signing anything."

"When they come for your sense of humor and try to put you in ugly robes, run," Cade advised.

"I accepted the tunics," Atton admitted, "But only the black ones. The robes, I'm going to burn if they ever get near me."

"Or you can drop them like giant drama queen--" side look to Anakin, "--whenever you feel like it."

Atton followed his side-eye. "Oh, whatever style he's trying to get at, I don't want to be within twenty parsecs of it."

Cade snorted. "Trying too hard?" he suggested.

"Way, way too hard," Atton agreed. "His hair alone looks like it was 'casually' sculpted about fifty times this morning using fifteen different kinds of product."

"And then his kid probably rubbed yogurt in it," Cade decided.

"That would explain why one part of it seems a little saggy."

"And smells weirdly like strawberry."

"I wouldn't actually put it past him to get stuff that smells like strawberry," Atton said dryly.

Cade snickered. "That's a good point."

Nothing about this was familiar or even vaguely comfortable to Sparkle, and under any other circumstances, he would probably be worrying more about his surroundings than he was. But here and now? Well, fuck, he'd spent the last week almost positive that Atton was dead, and here he wasn't, and Sparks was far more invested in pacing back and forth and waiting to talk to the guy (or hug him, or punch him, or cry on him, Sparkle hadn't decided which yet) than he was in worrying about all of this creepy-looking space hospital stuff.

So, yep. Pacing. Anxiously.

After a couple of rounds, Atton looked up. Squinted. Muttered, "Stop that, you're giving me a headache, they're gonna put me back in there if I do."

Well, at least Atton knew how to stop Sparkle's anxious pacing in a pinch. Sparkle looked his way, seemed to take a moment to kind of process that he'd been spoken to, and then he was launching himself in Atton's direction.

... At least he also had the presence of mind to not just straight-up tackle him, here. But he was sure as hell going in for the hug.

"Scared the fucking shit out of me, asshole."

"Ow, ow, ow, Sparks, watch the ribs--"

Sure, Sparkle was a skinny thing, but still. Ow.

"Nope, jerk," Sparkle mumbled, though he did loosen his grip. Slightly. "S'what you get. For being a jerk."

At least he wasn't also actually crying. Mostly. And if anyone called attention to the tears he would maturely tell them that he wasn't crying, they were.

Atton patted him awkwardly on the back. Not that he didn't know how to deal with hugs, or anything, he was just relearning how his body worked at all after several days of floating unconscious in a giant jar of fluid. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, "Complain, complain..."

"I have to complain," Sparkle insisted, clinging for a moment more before leaning back and giving Atton a sort of scrunchy-faced look. "Either I bitch or I scream at you and I'll get my ass kicked out of here for that, I bet."

But the temptation was there.

"I don't know," Atton said, "I'd like to see you go one-on-one with one of those Selkath over there. Battle of the skinny weirdoes."

Don't mind him. His snark was still recovering, too.

"I'd stomp on their toes," Sparkle decided after a moment taken to consider the Selkath as possible opponents. "Pretty sure I'd come out on top, so long as they're not biters."

Sparkle could not compete with mouths like those. But he suspected they were not super great at looking directly forward, judging by the set of their eyes on those weird-shaped fish heads of theirs.

He was officially overthinking this.

"Some of them are," Atton volunteered. "I mean, I heard a bunch of them went rabid down below a few years ago, back when Revan was still palling around this place."

He rubbed idly at the shoulder of the arm he'd almost lost. Ugh. That was going to be hell in cold weather.

... "Well, that's fucking horrifying," Sparkle decided, frowning. "That kind of thing happen much?"

Taking about rabid amphibian people still seemed easier that acknowledging that Atton had nearly died, here. Marginally. For a few moments more. And then he'd probably be right back to clinging or something.

Hey, it wasn't like Atton was looking forward to explaining what had happened, so he was happy to surf this one for a while. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've only been to Manaan once or twice. Usually the Selkath seem like reasonable people. If a little hard to understand."

"Well, at least they were reasonable enough to put your stupid ass back together," Sparkle nodded. And then fidgeted. And then shrugged. "Anything I can, like, get for you?"

Probably not that punch to the face he'd been mulling over, even.

"Nah, I'm good," Atton said, because even he recognized that getting his friends to get stuff for him after this... was a little iffy. "I'll grab some water on my way out, once the good doctors clear me."

Sparkle nodded. And then frowned down at his feet.

"... I brought Pop Tarts."

"Great," Atton said - incongruously cheerful, to be honest. "I'm probably gonna have an appetite in like five hours."

"I contemplated throwing them at your head. They're aerodynamic and they have corners."

Because he cared.

"Don't throw food at people, it's wasteful, Sparks," Atton said. "Not to mention rude."

Because let's just avoid discussing what happened for a moment longer.

"They're Pop Tarts," Sparkle shot back. "If there is any food in the universe that you can throw at someone's head and then pick up and eat anyway, it's probably those. Or Twinkies."

Not the point, Sparkle.

"I was still tempted, anyway."

"Well, don't," Atton said.

... He tried to think of something clever to add to that, but he'd already taxed his ability for clever five minutes after crawling out of a kolto tank.

"Fine," Sparkle grumbled. And then briefly contemplated just flat-out punching Atton, because he still had far too many mixed feelings to be able to sort through in a rational manner. "You scared the shit out of everyone, you know."

That would do.

"I'm pretty sure we were all shit-scared," Atton replied. "Flying right into Malachor V... that wasn't exactly easy."

But because he was still him, he had to add, "I think Mical wet himself."

And because Sparkle couldn't let a comment like that go without comment, he nodded a little and offered, "I'll keep an eye out for the piss stain next time I check out his ass."

See? Feeding the snark.

"But you're here and alive. Good. I'd have to find a way to kick your dead ass if you weren't."

"It was a little touch and go there for a while," Atton admitted, because that sounded better than 'I got the hell kicked out of me by a Sith Lord and then nearly gave up'. "But hey, we made it out of there, so who cares?"

"... At least everyone from the island who came here to make sure you weren't dead," Sparkle supplied.

Helpfully.

"It's a rhetorical question, Sparks."

Just FYI. Dodging that guilt there.

"But now I'm looking forward to a bed, a shower, and afterwards, some Pop Tarts."

"Well, I'll be here with the Pop Tarts when you need 'em," Sparkle replied. "Clean up, rest up. Don't do anything stupid or I'll eat 'em myself."

This was how Sparkle showed that he cared, Atton. You're welcome.

"I'm on a floating city in the middle of a giant ocean planet," Atton said. He shrugged. "The worst I could do is fall out. Unlike you and Cade and your tattoo plans over here."

Sia was still probably annoyingly okay, sitting quietly and waiting. It also helped that she knew plenty of techniques to keep her nice and even. Someone had to be the calm one.

At least she wasn't giving Atton a headache or crushing his ribs, so there was that. Unfortunately, without her giving him a headache or crushing his ribs, he actually had the opportunity to realize he still felt awkward around her in general.

"...Hey," he said, wandering over towards her at last.

Hey. That was about it. Master of snark, Atton Rand, hey.

"If you wanted us to come visit, you could have just asked," Sia said evenly.

"Yeah?" Atton said, pulling a face. "I was a little busy, sorry."

"I'll forgive it this time," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone just ran me over with a speeder, then backed up just to make sure," Atton admitted, running his fingers through his still-slightly-wet-and-ew-sticky hair. "I hate kolto tanks."

"Yes, but you'd be much worse off without it," she pointed out.

"Have I ever let logic keep me from complaining?" Atton asked her.

"No. But I remember your complaining being a lot louder," she said.

"Well, it's been a long couple of weeks," Atton admitted. "Months? I'm having a hard time keeping track. I blame all the Sith Lords."

"They do tend to confuse things," Sia said, totally serious. "I really am glad you're all right."

There.

"Thanks. I appreciate that," Atton said, all actual honesty. It was a good sign, was what it was. "Sorry for scaring you, I guess."

"That was an alarming message," she said, rather than just saying that would have been perfect without the 'I guess.'

"I wasn't in a very good frame of mind," Atton said.

"That was pretty clear," Sia said seriously.

Not that she'd been worried or anything. Nope.

"I was there the first time," Atton said. "It still felt the same the second time around."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that at all," she said, sincerely.

Atton let out a sigh. "At least we killed it," he said. "Whatever it is Malachor was still broadcasting after all that time... it's gone now."

A pause. "Though I guess that one's not so much 'we' as 'Bao-Dur'."

'Cause.

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A Medical Facility, Manaan, Monday Fandom Time

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