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Chapter Text

All Rhia wanted to do was scream.

It had been hours of torture. The Black Sun Syndicate was well-known among the criminal underworld for their enhanced interrogation tactics, and Rhia was steadily becoming acquainted with each technique.

She'd long since lost feeling in her arms where they hung above her head, her wrists limp in their metal traps. Briefly--and early on in the interrogation, when she still thought dissociation might just save her mental state--she'd pondered how the hell the Black Sun managed to find beskar-coated enclosures.

A beautifully simple design to trap the hands of Force-users. If one was in need of that kind of thing.

If she had still had more wits about her, might have also wondered how they knew she was a Force-user. But the agonizing pain of it all had a habit of tugging her focus away from critical thought.

Even without the cuffs, Rhia doubted she had much strength left to move one of the rocks in the corner of her cell, let alone break herself out. One of Crom's goonies came into her cell between interrogation sessions, jamming a needle into her neck and forcing enough spice into her veins to kill a Hutt.

Besides, if the torture didn't kill her, the steady drip of her own blood against the stone floor was about to drive Rhia insane.

She still wouldn't scream. They didn't deserve the satisfaction of breaking her down.

"I've survived Inquisitors," Rhia whispered, unbothered by the blinking red camera light in the top corner. It broadcast somewhere nearby and some of Crom's mercenaries often reacted as if they were watching a game of Huttball. Shouting, booing, groaning when the interrogation ended.

When Crom pressed the branding iron to the bottom of her foot, Rhia heard their cheers over the sound of her own screams.

I can survive this.

It was getting harder to believe in that anymore.

Rhia jolted back to full consciousness at the creaking of the cell door. She'd been in and out of consciousness for the past few hours, unable to so much as lift heavy weight of her head from where is dropped to her chest.

Boots entered her field of vision, stopping just in front of her kneeling body. The person didn't even flinch when another pulse of blood drained down Rhia's face, splashing like ink on their boot.

Funny. Crom would've broken a rib for that.

"Rhia."

I'm safe.

Rhia's head lolled back until she mustered the energy to look up at the comforting voice. Hers eyes flicked up, past the heavily armed utility belt, past the twin blasters strapped to suspenders, until she met a familiar face.

Comfort washed over her as her eyes settled on the figure before her. Despite her blurry vision, she could make out the canine-like, furry features of E'llard Talwire.

"El," Rhia rasped from her damaged throat. How was he here? Was he captured too? Was this a rescue? If her handler had come back for her, maybe there was a chance to escape.

A chance to see her family again. She'd do anything to let Cal know she was alive.

Her words stumbled from her mouth like a mudslide, thick on her tongue. "What are you--how--what--"

She flinched as the Bothan reached down, shushing her rambling worry as his hand touched her bruised cheek. He stared down at her, a solemn expression over his features. "Hush now, you're voice is already bad enough."

Another sound clattered, further down the echoing hallway.

Fuck. They had to go. Before the mercenaries came back.

Rhia spoke frantically. "You have to unlock me now," she whispered, leaning her body weight on the chains above her head. It was almost insulting, the way he looked much less concerned about the prospect of guards around the corner. "El, come on. They'll be back soo--"

Just behind E'llard, Rhia saw him. Gareth Crom stalked into the room, his arms draped casually across his armored chest.

Rhia's blood ran cold. her breathing picked up rapidly, drawing heaving breaths chased by aching pains in her lungs. She couldn't form the words to warn E'llard. It happened every time. Her body seemed to shut down when Crom entered her cell. All she could do was stare helplessly at the man behind her friend.

But Crom bore a smug grin on his sharp features, and suddenly Rhia didn't need the Force to know something was horribly wrong.

"Wha--"

"Did you really think you got yourself caught?" E'llard tsked. "I thought you help yourself in higher regard than that. A secret Jedi...even you wouldn't have survived this long without being too careful." He bent down, kneeling before her.

Rhia was almost grateful for it. Lifting her head to look at him exhausted her. But her nerves jumped too much, too aware of the other man in the room to settle.

Too uncertain from E'llard's calm demeanor.

E'llard sighed. "I'm afraid you simply took too long to finish the assignment."

Rhia blinked back tears, though she couldn't quite process where they were coming from. None of this made sense. What was he saying?

Maker, her head hurt.

"We found a better angle."

Why did he sound like he was apologizing to her?

E'llard drew his hand up her face, running his thumb just under the cut on her forehead.

Asshole. That stinging just subdued.

"Oh dove," he cooed. "I'm sorry they've roughed up such a pretty face. Crom's been looking for a new girl, someone who'd be a challenge to break. And the information was too important to pass up. You'll understand."

Oh gods.

The realization crept up on her and wrapped its hands around her throat, silencing her scream. She pinched her eyes shut, begging to the Force itself that this was nothing more than a cruel dream.

Please. This isn't real. E'llard would never sell me out.

Would he?

Rhia’s thoughts slowed after a few, tense breaths, as a new sense of reality crashed over her like a tidal wave. “How—how could you?”

E’llard reared back like he’d been burned by her skin. “How could I?” He even had the audacity to sound offended. “I’m doing this for the good of the galaxy, little dove.”

All of a sudden, that light-hearted, teasing nickname from years ago mocked her, sounding more like a predator taunting it’s prey.

"You betrayed me."

E'llard's shoulders seized with the tension of an barely contained fury that flickered in his eyes. Rhia couldn't stop the whimper that escaped her, wincing as the pressure bloomed pain across her jaw.

That'll bruise later, she thought weakly. Along with everything else.

E'llard looked over his shoulder, at the crime lord almost forgotten in the corner. Crom nodded and pressed a button on his vambrace.

Rhia dropped, her straining arms falling forward without the pulling chains.

The effect was immediate. Rhia screamed, her stiff arms and swollen wrists adjusted to the painful rush of blood back into limbs that had long since lost most feeling. Naeusa struck her, curdling her stomach. If she'd had any food in the last few days, she knew it'd be on the cell floor by now.

There was no reprieve. Fingers sank into her sweat-soaked hair and ripped into her scalp. Rhia rocked to her knees with a gasp, searching for any relief from the burning sensation as E'llard twisted her curls.

Black spots danced across her vision and blood roared in her ears, yet she could still hear the sickening sound of Crom chuckling from his place.

"Isn't she pretty like that, E'llard?" He asked. His words slid down Rhia's spine like cold water. "I like her best on her knees.

"He was too busy glaring down at Rhia to respond to the taunts. "I was right about you all along," E'llard spat out. "A sanctimonious Jedi, so focused on her own self-interest that she couldn't see what was right in front of her.

It's not true. It can't be.

E'llard bent low, his face inches from hers. "Your search for that child means nothing. He's long been dead, but you were so fixed on being a savior, a hero of the old days. You failed him, long before you worked for me. You. Failed."

The grip on her hair released, and Rhia let gravity carry her down. She sobbed openly into her bound wrists, uncaring of who heard her or how they sneered. His words struck her harder than any of Crom's torture methods, cutting deeper than any blade and burning worse than any brand.

E'llard was right. All she had wanted was to find Grogu.

He was gone.

"You could've done such powerful things in this galaxy, but your wasted on your own survivor's guilt." E'llard stood up and brushed the dust from his trousers before heading toward the door.

He only glanced back once, scoffing at her prone body crumpled on the ground, before following Crom from the cell.

"This is the least you could do."

Rhia stayed there, crying softly on the floor of her cell, until the next interrogation began.

Chapter Text

Luke hadn’t been that unnerved since fighting the Emperor. Every hair on the back of his neck stood, signaling his senses into overdrive and disrupting the normal sense of calm he so desperately clung to in times like these.

That calm was missing now. Somewhere buried beneath a mountain of fear and worry for the safety of his beloved.

He wished Din good luck eight days prior, the stubborn bounty hunter adamant on taking the job, despite the Karga’s aforementioned concerns that it came with breaking into an abandoned Imperial command center. There were too many unknown variables, not to mention the known rumors that the place might not have been as abandoned as they originally thought.

But Din insisted on going. Karga trusted him. It would be an easy job.

Mesh’la, you don’t need to worry. I can handle this. I’ll be back before you have the chance to miss me.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, remembering Din’s gentle words, spoken in the soft glow of dawn that streamed through the window of Luke’s small cabin.

He’d give his remaining hand to turn back time and convince Din to stay in his arms.

“Dropping out of hyperspace,” Han said quietly, a surprisingly reserved side of him that Luke often didn’t see. But the entire flight had been silent, not a word spoken among their mismatched team.

The third of their group being Boba Fett. Tatooine had been closer in range of the Din’s distress signal. Boba demanded to be part of the rescue, sparking a two-hour argument between Han and his rival that only ended when Luke had shocked them both by telling them to shut the hell up and fly the damn ship.

That was the last time anyone talked on the flight.

Not that he’d be likely to admit it out loud, but Luke was grateful that Boba was here. He was more than capable in a fight, and he had a surprising air of steadiness that Luke could lean into when his nerves spiked. He needed that more than anything.

“You ready to do this, kid?” Han asked. He looked over, but Luke’s eyes were glued to the viewport. If he so much as glanced in Han’s direction and saw the pained look in his best friend's eyes, Luke might completely unravel.

“Land as close as possible.”

Luke jumped, more surprised that Boba had snuck up on him than by his actual arrival.

I must be more on edge than I thought.

Boba leaned in the doorway. He’d been avoiding the cockpit in favor of watching Grogu. With Leia all the way on Bespin for a conference and that guilty feeling that settled in his stomach every time he thought about leaving the worried toddler home, Luke determined the safest place for Grogu was with them, safely aboard the Falcon while they searched for Din.

Besides, with Han in a leg cast after trying to repair the Falcon in a rainstorm, someone would be able to keep a watchful eye on the Manda’lor’s son.

Han shot a dirty look over his shoulder. “You wanna fly this thing?”

“If your parking gets us overrun on escape, then yes.”

“I know how to handle a landing sequence, Fett, so why don’t you—“

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. “Han...”

Before Luke had to stop another debate between the two, Han conceded with a grumble, focusing back on their landing. It was smoother than most of Han’s quick maneuvers, but Luke doubted the patchy shift of gravity was what made him nauseous when they touched down.

They almost missed Din entirely.

The entire facility looked abandoned. Not the typical ‘Imperials hiding in the woodworks and they’d have to track them down’ kind of abandoned. There wasn’t a soul in sight to run into, no one lurking in the shadow, no one to fight off. Han’s successful hacking of the center’s comm network had confirmed it. Everyone was gone.

Boba suggested they turn back. Try and track down where the last ships were programmed to go.

And yet…

“Din is here.”

He earned a scowl from Boba. “How do you know?”

“I just–” Luke faltered, unsure how much ‘Jedi nonsense’ Boba was willing to take right now. “I just…know.”

Boba blinked once, but to Luke’s surprise he didn’t argue.

“In that case, lead the way.” And he gestured toward the hangar door.

Despite the emptiness, the two still moved slowly, watching each corner they turned for signs of deception. Neither spoke of the cloud of anxiety that hung over them, threatening to startle their nerves.

Please be here. Please be okay.

When they reached the prison cells, Boba stood guard, nodding for Luke to go on. He checked quickly, more frantic with every dark, empty cell he passed.

Luke reached the end of the long hallway.

No Din.

“Come on, come on,” Luke muttered. “You’re here. I know you are. You have to be here.”

Everything went still, like the world narrowed in solely on Luke. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he whipped around, fixed on a cell in the center of the hallway.

“Din...”

It was only by the light of his saber that Luke made out the figure huddled in the corner of the darkness.

Fuck.

Luke rushed in, crouching at Din’s side and taking in the appearance of the man he loved. This was bad. This was so bad. Luke’s brain went into autopilot, taking inventory of injuries like he would do during the rebellion.

No feelings, just action. He could fall apart later, when Din was safe.

Despite the shivering that wracked his body, Din was covered in a layer of sweat. His tunic was soaked with it. Luke immediately worked the theories in his head; pain, infection, some injection of drugs. All of which meant he needed to be moved. Quickly.

The shirt was also soaked with fresh blood, seeping through the back of his shirt in sharp, strange lines…like he’d…

Oh gods.

Luke felt the bile rise in his throat and tried not to picture Din chained up and writhing under the biting pain of a Confessor’s whip.

Instead, he focused on the binders chafing Din’s wrists. The skin was all but gone, leaving a bloody mess that dripped red rivers down to his elbows.

WIth shaking hands Luke reached out, laying a gentle touch to Din’s shoulder.

“Don’t–” Din groaned, and shoved Luke’s hand away. His voice was staggered and raspy, like he’d been screaming for hours. A shiver ripped through him and in a lower, sadder tone, he whispered three words that shattered Luke’s heart.

“No more…please…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, hold still.” Luke whispered soft words, moving to the chain on the cuffs. “It’s me, it’s Luke…”

Din’s head lolled and he tried to push Luke away again, but his arm buckled as he lifted it. “Get…away…”

“Din, it’s me,” Luke begged. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

His words fell on deaf ears. Din’s eyes were unfocused and glassy, unable to see what was in front of him. Every move Luke made caused another flinch to wrack Din’s entire body. His breathing staggered suddenly, like it took all his effort to hold any air in his lungs, before his head slumped against the wall and his eyes fluttered shut.

Luke wavered for a moment. He didn’t want to risk startling Din further, but the need to check his pulse outweighed any other concerns.

Din’s pulse was weak and thready, barely noticeable even to Luke’s perceptions. They needed to get him out of there.

“Boba!” Luke roared, and he started working at the cuffs. Time felt too precious. Luke tried not to think about the damage he was doing to Din’s psychological state.

Din whimpered low in his throat and fought weakly against Luke, bumping his clenched fists against Luke’s chest.

I’m sorry, Din. I’m so sorry.

“I found Din’s armor.” Boba said gruffly, walking through the door. “We should–”

He stopped short, shock written plain as day across his scarred features.

Luke grit his teeth. “Help. Me.”

Boba snapped into action, and the two were able to do away with the chains quickly. There wasn’t much either of them could do without a proper medbay, but they managed to get Din safely into Luke’s arms.

Luke was left alone with Din for a moment, Boba running back to get the precious beskar. The armor would offer comfort in the coming days for Din, a protection against the world. Luke may not understand the peace of mind that it brought, but he knew better than to let them leave without it.

“Luke…”

“Shhh, it's me. I'm right here.”

Din tightened his grip on Luke’s shirt, burying his face in his chest, teeth chattering though his skin practically burned Luke’s. “I’m sorry—I—worried y-you—worried Grogu.”

Luke cradled him close. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he soothed. “I’ve got you, my love.”

“—don’t think I can walk.” Din mumbled with a sigh. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Luke grinned softly, planting a kiss to the crown of Din’s head. “I’d carry you through fire without hesitation. I’m happy to carry you home, Din.”

Din. His Din. The strong and steadfast and unflappable Mandalorian that could handle anything thrown his way. Luke didn’t want to think of the amount of non-stop torture it took to break a man of his resolve. He couldn’t.

There was one thing Luke could think.

Someone was going to pay.

Chapter Text

Rhia’s only indication that something was wrong came from the audible, pained grunt.

She whipped around, slicing through a trooper with ease in the process as she searched the warehouse. It was rare to hear any cries of pain from Boba, or any indication that he was anything less than the seasoned bounty hunter of legend.

But the anguish in his voice ran her blood ice cold.

“Rhia, where are you?”

His voice came somewhere to her left, through the cacophony of blaster fire. She only spotted him when a stormtrooper crumpled unceremoniously from the well-placed shot of a carbine rifle. Boba, through the clamor, landed hard on one knee. He fired missiles from the guns in his knee bracers, before his helmet turned to Rhia, just as a trooper swung a knife down.

Fuck.

“Boba!”

She was too far away.

The knife sank into Boba, digging up into the soft, unguarded flesh below his kidney. He bent over, groaning in pain, the knife still embedded in his back.

No.

Rhia stepped forward, desperate to get between the onslaught of blasters aimed in Boba’s direction.

Pain shot through her scalp. Fingers tore into her hair, sending her weight off-balance. Stars danced in her vision and she was forced backward, colliding into the chest of the person behind her.

Something clicked in her ear. The barrel of the blaster was so close she could feel the cold from the metal against her cheeks. With the grip tightening in her hair, Rhia couldn’t even look at Boba if she tried, but one wrong move on her part put him at too much risk. She wasn’t about to let that happen.

A crisp, Corusanti accent shouted way too close to her ear. “Drop your weapons, Fett.”

Metal and wood clattered to the floor immediately.

Dammit, Rhia thought. She knew Boba too well. He wasn’t going to risk her life either. They cared too much about each other.

“You too, Jedi,” and the Imperial officer twisted his hand. Tears sprang into her eyes as she disengaged the lightsaber and rolled it out of her hands.

“Well, now,” the officer mocked. “The illustrious Daimyo of Tatooine, injured and bleeding out at my feet. And his little Jedi lover at the end of my blaster. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He shoved her head forward unceremoniously.

Boba knelt on the floor and propped himself up with one hand, the other clutching at his side.

“Let her go,” he choked out, “you can have me.”

Rhia struggled in the tight grasp of the Imp. “No! Boba, stop–”

“Quiet!”

The muzzle pressed hard into her temple and her mouth snapped shut with a click.

The Imp holding her must’ve signaled something, because one of the troopers behind Boba stepped forward. Rhia’s eyes widened in horror as the trooper twisted the knife, dragging an agonizing scream from Boba’s lips, and ripped it out.

Blood flowed freely down Boba’s back. Rhia was forced to watch his strength seep from him as the fabric of his robes slowly darkened.

“Where’s the Rishi padawan?” The officer barked at Boba.

“I don’t know what you’re–”

“Don’t lie to me!” He spat. “You harbored that fugitive and brought it to the safety of the Jedi. So where is that damn bird?”

Boba remained silent, glaring at Rhia’s captor.

“You’ll tell me what I want to know. Or I’ll shoot her and leave you to bleed out.” His voice lowered to a whisper against Rhia’s ear and she squirmed as his hot breath fanned over her skin. “What a sad way for him to die,” he taunted. “A slow, painful death…all alone. Staring at the corpse of the woman he loves.”

“No…” Rhia whimpered. She couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down her face.

“Mesh’la,” Boba’s voice was harsh, struggling too much for his own breath. “It’s going to be fine.”

She shook her head. They couldn’t give the location up, they’d be risking the lives of the entire Jedi order.

“Don’t do it, Boba. Not for me.”

Boba hesitated. In that brief moment, she saw a flash of guilt cross his solemn features.

“You’ll get nothing out of me,” he said, his voice steely. “I’d die before I gave up the Jedi.”

Rhia’s chest tightened and for the first time–and potentially the last–she knew exactly how to define her feelings for him.

Love.

“Then you’ve sealed her fate.”

“WAIT–”

Rhia closed her eyes.

“Say goodbye, Fett.”

BAM.

The man behind her crumpled to the ground immediately.

Rhia threw herself at the other troopers, calling for her lightsaber through the Force and cutting through the remaining squad until none were left standing. She took a breath, calming her nerves and trying not to think about the fact that she had been about two seconds away from someone putting a bullet through her head. She looked up to see their savior leaning over Boba assessing the injury.

“Fennec,” she breathed, finally able to speak past the lump on her throat..

“That was the stupidest shit I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Good to see you too,” Rhia mumbled. She kneeled next to Boba’s side and placed a reassuring hand on his knee, feeling the relief of her presence wash through him in the Force.

“You two just had to go off on your own,” Fennec grumbled. “‘We can handle it, Fennec, it’ll be easy, Fennec.’ Unbelievable.”

“That’s a terrible impression of me,” Rhia snapped.

“I’ll do better once this nerf-herder isn’t bleeding out.” Fennec pressed gauze over the flowing wound. “Did you even get the data we needed?”

“Uh…”

“Great work, you two. One for the history books.”

“But I–”

“We’ll get it next time.” Boba grunted and slid his hand into Rhia’s, squeezing gently. “Need to–make sure–you’re keeping up—our pact, Fennec.”

He slumped further into Rhia’s chest, and she couldn’t help but kiss his temple and gently push his head to rest on her shoulder.

Fennec raised a sharp brow. “Uh-huh. Try asking next time, dumbass.”

Chapter Text

Boba paused in the doorway and glanced back, but Rhia waved him on with a reassuring smile.

“Go on, I’ll meet you in the throne room.”

“Rhi–”

“Go. I just need to catch my breath.”

He didn’t look all that convinced, but one last worried look, Boba sighed and walked out to meet with the others.

Thank the Maker. They had more important things to worry about without a few of her bumps and bruises to interrupt the plans. An entire crime syndicate declared war against their small team of mercenaries, she couldn’t distract Boba now.

Even if her bumps and bruises were slowly bleeding through her shirt and spreading across her abdomen and dripping down the outside of her leg.

Rhia sucked in a few deep breaths and lifted the hem of her shirt. Sure enough, the blaster hit deeper than she anticipated and had a steady trickle of blood streaming from it. The only thing keeping her moving was surely the adrenaline from the fight, and even she knew it couldn't last forever.

Fuck. She needed help.

“You’re a pretty bad liar.”

She started at the sound of Fennec’s voice. Leave it to the master assassin to successfully sneak up on a Jedi.

“You should be planning the counter-attack,” she wpoke through her teeth, hiding the pain in her voice. She shoved her shirt down, hoping Fennec hadn’t noticed the blood.

It wasn’t much good. She was twelve steps ahead of everyone in the room.

“Nice try.” Fennec stepped into the room and immediately crowded into the space, pausing her commanding movements only to offer a questioning look as she brushed the hem of Rhia’s shirt.

Rhia nodded finally.

Fennec whistled low, frowning as she revealed the injury to the room.“Shit. Girl, what did you do?”

“Oh, you know.” Rhia winced. “Had to be polite and get a shot in. Common courtesty.”

Fennec huffed a laugh under her breath. “You really don’t hang around mercenaries often, do you?” She pressed against the edge of the burn and Rhia hissed sofly.

“Not my usual crowd, I guess.”

She wanted to snark back more – give Fennec a run for her money – but suddenly the world spun around her, like someone had turned the planet axis around.

“Woah. Okay, let’s get you to the medbay.”

Rhia shook her head slowly. “No, you need to help plan. I’m gonna be fine.”

“You’re a dead man walking.”

“But in a fun way, right?” Rhia teased, flashing a lazy smile. Fennec rolled her eyes and reached down. She ripped a piece of fabric from her tunic, folding it evenly and pressing it to the wound.

It worried Rhia more when she didn’t feel the pressure.

“You’re getting the medbay. I’ll send one of the Manstro brothers to brief you later. Right now, you should–”

“No!”

Fennec froze, clearly thrown off by sudden outburst.

What could she do? The last thing Rhia wanted was to be alone with brothers. Hell, she’d promised Cal that she wouldn’t go near them. But how could she explain it to Fennec without risking Boba’s life. How could she put any of them in such a dangerous situation, on the even of a war with a ruthless crime syndicate?

Maybe she already had.

“No?”

Fuck. She was screwed.

“I–”

“If you don’t think you can fight tomorrow, that’s understandable, but–”

“No, Fennec–you don’t get it. I–” Rhia pinched the bridge of her nose. What was she doing? If she told Fennec, Fennec would tell Boba. And then who would he believe.

“I get it. You don’t want to let anyone down.”

Not exactly, Rhia thought miserably.

“Hang in there, Rhia,” Fennec said, her tone suddenly too solemn for Rhia’s liking. “You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s–” she faltered, battling the thoughts in her head. She could risk telling Fennec the truth and Fennec not believing her. She could say nothing and run the risk of putting everything in jeopardy. It was selfish, but she felt more trapped than she’d ever been.

“Rhia?”

“…‘S my head…” Rhia clutched her temple and fought to find her balance. “Probably just…need some water.” Spots danced across her vision and she latched onto Fennec’s arm, gripping for dear life.

“I need to lay down.”

Then she pitched forward and the world went black.

Chapter Text

Everything was pitch black.

Rhia shifted slowly, getting pushed in an unfamiliar cadence. Her heartbeat slammed in her chest, the sound ramping up until she could hear the rhythm of it echo through her ears and deafen her surroundings. A putrid smell coiled in the air, lingering in a hot, humid cloud around her, suffocating her slowly. Something pressed into her cheeks. She could feel her breath ricochet back at her, fanning across her sweaty face.

Panic swelled deep in her chest as she jerked her head frantically. The smell was tangible, its acidity stinging her eyes. She screwed them shut without a second thought. Something gnawed at her, twisting in her gut. Some kind of warning, not to open them again. Rhia twisted against the curling sensation that closed around her leg, her arm, up her body and around her stomach until pressure became pain.

Rhia’s hand twitched at her side. No, not her hand. She didn’t move her hand, not by choice. Her mind was there, in a body, but it was hollow. Like she stood several feet from the body, yet she was still trapped in the mind. Seeing what the eyes saw, moving where the limbs moved.

Her hand yanked violently until it released from the invisible force. Something still tugged her further into the soft ground around her, but she stretched carefully, trying to reach toward her head.

On instinct alone, Rhia tried to feel out her surroundings with the Force. 

Nothing.

Dread slammed through her. She couldn’t feel the Force at all.

Where was she? 

Rhia’s hand halted its movements and her gloved fingers fiddled at her temple. No, not her temple either. They hit some kind of metal barrier, warm from the unknown surroundings, and flicked a button. 

Her eyes shot open as a short beam of light pierced the darkness. It did little to help her. Something obstructed her vision. Sharp lines narrowed her line of sight into the shape of a T, forcing her to pivot her entire head just to see. The stinging air worsened, whatever barrier in front of her doing little to protect from it, until she could do nothing more than close her eyes again and try to think.

The burning started. 

It was like it happened in slow motion. Her body tensed prematurely, like Rhia was anticipating the pain before it came, like she knew it was about to come. Slowly, the agony ripled into her, as if she could feel each nerve-ending send the pain across her body. It started in her legs, seeping deep through her clothing and climbing up her body like a vine. The areas worsened where she felt the pressure on her body, like someone had forced a branding iron to her skin and held it there with no end in sight.

Rhia sucked in a breath, aimlessly reaching to the Force and coming up empty again. Of course it chose now to fail. It wasn’t like she’d begun trusting it to begin with, but hey, might as well try. She wanted to move. She wanted to get out. Now.

The anxiety bubbled under her skin, a faint distraction from the pain that rose to a sweltering level inside her body. If it continued any longer, she feared she might simply burst. She had to do something .

Hoping her panic could hold on for two fucking seconds, she risked the chance at opening her eyes again. It seemed to be the only control she had over her own body at the moment, so she had to use it. Any chance she had at getting out of whatever hell she was trapped in would only work if she looked around, for Maker’s sake.

So she looked around. And immediately wished for a swift death.

Red, slime-covered tentacles stretched upward, pulsing and twisting with a disgusting rhythm. They loomed overhead, creating a wall of fleshy, disgusting, awfulness that made Rhia’s stomach churn. Her head spun at the waves of nausea as she looked up, searching for what she hoped was the direction of the sky and finding nothing but darkness.

Then it dawned on her. She was covered in the nasty-looking green that slicked the walls around her. And it burned into her, eating away clothes and skin and undoubtedly her entire body if she was stuck for long enough.

Rhia scanned the area quickly and tried to assess her options. The thoughts in her head muddled as the stench closed in and the burning intensified, stealing her rationality. So much so that she almost missed the dead stormtrooper a few feet ahead of her.

Two things happened at once.

The moment Rhia saw the trooper, the ground swept from under her and she lurched forward, the only thing stopping her fall was a tentacle stretched taut in front of her. No amount of scrambling found purchase on it and she stumbled until the movement stopped. 

And then the air left her lungs.

As sudden as a lightning strike, Rhia couldn’t breathe. The air thickened until she choked on it and the oxygen vacated the entire space in an instant. Every gasp she took seemed to do little more than waste valuable air. She tugged her arms, willing them to finally listen and actually move on her terms. But no, instead of ripping the suffocating metal from her head, white gloves extended in front of her body, grabbing aimlessly at tentacles. 

She took a step, and another, stumbling as the flesh slid beneath her footing.

Rhia extended her hands toward the stormtrooper, where tacky slime ate away at the white plastoid. Thoughts echoed in her skull, but they weren’t her own.

Air … I need air…

Desperation set in. Black spots flickered across her struggling vision. If she could just reach a little further.

Oxygen…tube…

Just a bit further. She could get there. To what, Rhia didn’t know. All she knew was that she was seconds from death. She had to get there. Before it was too late.

A cold breeze startled her, scraping over her entire body and breaking through the stifling heat with a shock. Where did it come from? Could she get out?

Get out.

She wanted air. That cold air. It called to her, it lulled her as her head spun in her daze.

Too late.