....?, Korriban, .....?

[suitably_heroic]

(...What is democracy? What is democracy? It got something to do with young men killing each other, Arthur...)

To say life swam back into focus would have been a drastic overrepresentation of the situation. Atton's vision returned to him murky, and swimming, and for a moment he swore he could see the silhouettes of a Togruta and a Twi'lek not far in the distance. Words from a song rang in his ears, though right now he couldn't figure out which one, and it wasn't relevant either.

He was dimly aware of something burning in his stomach. Even more dim was his awareness of something white and something red, not so far away from him.

Something grabbed him by the arm, tugged him up. He went. What else was he going to do?

"Atton," hissed a familiar voice. "Atton, we must go."

He looked up. There was one... no, two hooded faces looking down at him. And one of them... one of them was the red one.

"Visas?" he mumbled.

"You were not meant to come here," she said. "Quickly. The dark side is strong here, and you have only little time."

Another pull, and then his arm wasn't his own anymore-- it got slung over Visas' shoulders like he was a bag of produce. His stomach burned harder, and he let out a grunt.

Pain wasn't new. He just couldn't figure out why he was feeling this one.

"Sboa has been manipulating the energies in this tomb through his artifact," Visas said quietly. "Now his hold is broken, but the artifact poisons you."

"Sith poison," Atton mumbled. "Great. Add that to the-- ugh-- tally of stupid ways I've gotten injured." He threw a glance to the second Miraluka, who was apparently not a figment of his imagination. He hoped. "Who's the kid?"

"Baresis," she said. "He is... a youth who has been held captive by Sboa for some time. I came here to find him."

"Okay, he's found. Now let's find Brianna and get... out of here," Atton said.

He tried to take another step forward, and immediately the world wavered in front of him. His hand shot out to grab at Visas's arm again, nearly dragging her down to the ground - it was only her quick motion that kept them both upright.

"Be careful there, hotshot."

That voice... He met his own-- no, Jaq's-- eyes for one brief, confusing instant before it faded.

Visas' arm slid around his waist, pulling him into a better position. "You must rest on me," she said. "Brianna has lured the Sith further into the caves while I took you to safety."

"Great. Fantastic." Atton let her pull him along this time, off into the next corridor. "Any chance of her... taking him down?"

"He is skilled," Visas said. "Baresis and I could not face him by ourselves. We hid in the caves."

Atton released a wordless grunt. Much of what went on around him kept leaping in and out of focus like he was watching a badly-calibrated holodisplay. If Visas said anything else, he didn't hear it. Just the sound of the steady drip of water coming down a wall somewhere, the sight of black, jagged walls, and the constant sensation that something malevolent was watching him, just over his shoulder.

It became too much, after some time. The pain struck him like a punch in the gut, drawing him in.

He peered over his shoulder, just to look, just to convince himself he was too loopy to notice anything anyhow.

White skin, like curdled milk, a face like a statue that'd gotten half of it hewn off by an inconsiderate sculpter. Cracks spreading through that skin like a web.

"Atton, I cannot keep going if you keep squeezing my arm."

His attention snapped back to the road in front of them. "Uh," he said, letting up on some of the pressure. "...Are we there yet?" And why could he still hear footsteps, like tapping in his head? Thump thump thump.

Visas stilled. "Do you hear that?" she asked.

Oh, good. He wasn't hallucinating.

"Yes," the other Miraluka whispered. "Lightsabers?"

... or apparently he was. "I don't hear nothing," Atton mumbled. "Except that stupid thumping..."

"We should leave him here," the boy said. And then something else, but the thumping was getting too loud all of a sudden. Thump thump thump footsteps taps drumming die...

The word flashed through Atton like a missile, or a blaster shot, or... or something. He cried out, letting go of Visas as he crumpled to the floor.

ThumpthumpthumpTHUMP THUMP THUMP.

"As always, you stand on the precipe of something greater than yourself, and yet you refuse to jump..." Kreia squatted down by his side, looking at him. Judging him. "Typical."

"I could have remade you."

Brimstone again. Atton let out a strangled scream and tried to shimmy away, but his legs weren't cooperating.

Sion filled the on his right, beside Kreia. "Make the outside and the inside match."

"Y'know," said Jaq, peering in from behind them. "If you're into that kind of thing."

A three-feet-thick wall of terror smashed straight into him, taking hold.

Run run run run couldn't run couldn't run shit e chu ta poodoo s-- no no no no no. No.

Sith artifact. Sith poison. Wasn't real. Was not real.

"...and it comes to be that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel," he sang tunelessly, "was just a freight train coming your waaay-ay..."

Think about the song. That was his voice. His voice. Not the stupid thing hanging around his stomach pushing him around.

Think about it. Close your eyes. Think.

Open them again.

They were standing in front of him. For one second, it was the same thing, still stuck in his head: Kreia, Jaq, Sion. But then that image faded, and he could see more clearly. Brianna, there, to the left, her lightsaber burning bright. To her right, Visas, her own purple lightsaber parrying the Sith's strike. And the boy, sitting by his side.

Why were they...?

Oh.

They were defending him.

And losing.

Everything still hurt, but that was fine. That was normal. That happened all the time. He pressed his knuckles to the floor and forced himself up, even as the shards in his stomach shifted painfully against his innards. Whatever.

"Hey, loser," he called, and reached down to prod himself right in the painful bits. "You looking for this? What, you hoping this is going to make you live forever or something?"

The Sith lost his focus for just a split second.

"I mean, I could threaten to just set myself on fire or something and make sure you can't get to it," Atton yelled, "But it doesn't really matter. You people are idiots, with that eternal life crap. You must hate it that Sion is the only one who pulled it off, and his trick was--"

His triumphant distracted rant was only briefly interrupted by a vile bout of coughing. "...The trick is enough pain with enough stubbornness," he managed, "And it's not worth it. It's not worth it, okay? You're a loser, you're..."

The boy pulled on him. "Lie down," he whispered. "Lie down or you'll die already."

"Nah, I'm good," Atton muttered, his eyes losing their focus again. Somebody struck... somebody definitely struck someone else.

But he didn't see it.

Rather, when he opened his eyes next, all he saw was the face of Bastila Shan, Bloody Ex-Jedi Hero, scowling at him like he was something she scraped off her shoe.

Yep, still hallucinating. He was coming to the conclusion he really didn't care for it.


[[ nfb, nfi, general mentions of anxiety and trauma. ]]