He had to get home. Janus kept telling him to go home, kept telling him to get on the ship and leave. Sometimes he blearily stayed in place, a vague recollection that he was on Tython echoing behind his confusion. Other times Molari stood still and wavered, hands to his head as the pain sliced across his thoughts and pounded like a sledgehammer. The babble of the healers sometimes was sharp and vivid, challenging and getting a rise of frustration from the man, and other times it faded and was easy to listen to and obey.
Ari, you need to come home... I miss you.
He'd gotten to the point where he didn't start from hearing Janus in his ears, though he still craned his head to look for her. She kept telling him to go home, to leave, and softly she urged him to escape.
It was lunacy. Utter and complete lunacy. Sinnest had brought him to Tython to help him but every time the healers turned away Molari paced uncertainly. The healers had tried to help him, expressed their concern that he was so obviously sick, and it ate around his thoughts that they were waiting.
Watching.
They would keep him there. Lock him up.
Ari, you need to get out- And he listened this time while letting the healers work, ignoring the pounding in his skull and the way the world tilted after they professed themselves confused. One of them had tried to ease his mind to sleep and he let them think it worked, waiting for the healers to trustingly move away to the next patient before sitting up. They knew what was ailing him, didn't they, and they weren't telling him--
He wouldn't stick around long enough. His ship... where had he left it? "Send the lockdown code and I'll get you to Tython-" It was on Coruscant.
Still on Coruscant.
He was on Tython.
He had to get home.
---
Come on Ari, just around the bend, shuttle waiting for the troops she urged him, half a mind wondering why Janus darted in and out of sight before telling him everything she did. If she was there why did she want him to go home but maybe - he shook his head, swaying on his feet before he slammed into the wall. Wall. His shoulder twinged from the impact. Maybe she wanted him to go home to see their family, and tell them she was alive, because they all thought she was dead.
He hopped the shuttle though, settling in among the passengers leaving the planet and thanking the Force that whatever ailed him had begun to leave him alone again; his stomach settled, his nerves relaxed - he stretched out then wondered why he had no hood, running fingers through his hair.
When he stumbled off the shuttle he followed Janus again, trusting her to get him to a place to go home. The shuttle hadn't been bound for home but he couldn't quite make out where it'd taken him until the Chiss had insisted he was on Nar Shaddaa.
The Chiss. There'd been two of them, Janus telling him no, to keep looking for the ship and shuttle transports but the doctor had hurt himself and Molari knew it was his duty to help him. And the other one, the female, had known how to get through to the shuttles and taxis. Hunched over a bench Molari tried to order his staggered thoughts.
They'd said he was infected. He'd finally been composed enough to sense they were being truthful when they insisted it, and Master Othone had confirmed their words. He still didn't know exactly where he'd woken up but he had put his trust in the Jedi Master and pulled back from his immediate reactions.
Janus hadn't been there when he'd woken up. And, as he popped the medication he'd been given, he realized she hadn't been around again. But he'd been able to eat, been able to sleep again, and the aggression and feeling of being watched had abated.
He pulled out the datachip he'd been offered with the information on what, exactly, he'd been prescribed. He had one more dose of it.
What had they meant by infected? Why had they insisted he'd been attacked?
He scrubbed his face then looked up, blinking green eyes.
He still had to get home.
No comments:
Post a Comment