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Jaster woke up slowly, head fuzzy and body weak. He looked around and saw that he was in a medbay. Running back the recent events in his head, he realized where he must be. He tried to get up but found that he couldn’t lift himself. “BUIR!” A small blur burst through the door and launched itself onto Jaster’s chest. He hugged Jango tightly, just relieved that he was alive and safe- Jaster looked up and saw Tor standing in the doorway. Not safe. Neither of them were safe while he was there.
“Be careful Jan’ika, your buir has been asleep for a while and he’s probably disoriented.” To Jaster’s horror, Jango immediately hopped off of him and went to Tor, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bed. “Buir! I was really worried, but I wasn’t scared cuz I’m brave like you and Tor’buir helped me and he said that he knew you and-”
As Jango stopped for breath, Jaster interjected angrily. “Tor’buir?” Tor was smiling at him over Jango’s shoulder as the boy stepped back, confused. “Yeah. He’s your riduur, so he’s my buir too. Right?” Damn Vizsla to hell. “Ad’ika, Tor isn’t-” The vile man in question looked innocently at Jaster, putting his hand on Jango’s shoulder in a clear threat.
“What Jas is trying to say is that it’s been a long time since we saw each other and he’s a bit confused. Remember how you were confused when you first got here?” Jango nodded, face brightening again. “I hope you get less confused soon buir. Then we can play!” “Yes, we all hope that. How about you go play with Pre for a bit while your buir and I catch up.” Jango looked at Jaster for permission. He reluctantly nodded. “Be safe Jan’ika, maybe look for some fried nerf for us. Ok?” He saw the codeword register in his ad’s face as it twisted into one of confusion. “... Lek buir.” He ran out, shouting the whole way. “PRE! BA’VODU!”
Tor closed the door behind him and slowly walked back to the bedside. “You hate nerf.” Jaster shrugged. “Jango likes it and he doesn’t like to be the only one eating.” Tor smiled condescendingly down at him, settling into the chair next to the bed. “Don’t lie to me, mesh'la. You shouldn’t confuse the ad with code phrases. We wouldn’t want him to get hurt.”
Jaster again tried to stand, still to no avail. “Don’t get up on my account cyar'ika, you’re still weak.” “And who’s fault is that?” Tor’s smile dropped. “Montross decided that a more lethal dose be administered. Don’t worry, he’s dead now, guess you can’t trust traitors.” “You would know, wouldn’t you?” Tor ignored the jab, reaching over to touch Jaster’s cheek softly, carefully pinning his arms to his sides to prevent him from trying to bitch slap him. “Jas” he scolded. “You were the one who left me. If anything, you are a traitor. But, as I said before, I forgive you. You’re just confused and scared and that’s ok.”
Jaster hated this. He hated how helpless he felt and how tired he was and most of all, he hated the small part of him that sang whenever Tor was nearby. The part that desperately wants for things to go back to how they were, the two of them, side by side. He hates the part that misses Tor, the part that has him almost relaxing into his touch, just wanting to be held by his riduur again. As if reading his thoughts, Tor leaned down and kissed Jaster’s forehead. “I missed you too mesh’la. Soon, we’ll never have to be apart again.” With that ominous proclamation, he left the room, the door sliding shut and locking Jaster alone.
Jaster was not allowed to see his son for the next few cycles. Tor had come daily, sometimes just sitting and working on some datapad and sometimes seeking conversation. It didn’t matter that Jaster refused to speak, Tor was more than happy to fill the silence with different stories about their time apart. He also came when Jaster “wasn’t eating enough” and “needed to stop trying to get up” according to the baar’ur.
“You need to take care of yourself. Gar shuk meh kyrayc. You’re no good to me dead, or to Jango.” Damn him. “Let me see him. What are you even telling him to keep him away?” Tor looked at him sympathetically. “The truth, cyar'ika. That you are confused and ill and that you need time to adjust to this sudden change. I could bring him in tomorrow, if you’d like. You would need to behave of course, we don’t want to scare him.” Jaster shook his head, regretting it after a wave of dizziness hit him and he had to lean back into the bed. “He should be scared of you.” Tor had the audacity to actually look hurt, as he spoke softer than Jaster had heard him in a long time. “Are you scared of me Jas?” He picked up one of Jaster’s hands in his own, holding it gently in a way that made him want to cry at the familiarity of it. As it was, he yanked his arm back sharply, recoiling from the deceptively sweet touch. “Leave.” To his relief and surprise, Tor did. As he exited, he looked back at Jaster with sad eyes. “You are the last person I want to be afraid of me.”
The next day, an excited Jango burst into his room, already telling him about the classes he was taking, the other students, Pre teaching him new attack moves, basically anything that came to the boy’s mind. Jaster found himself smiling for the first time in a while. With his ad on his lap like this, he could almost pretend they were home. Then Tor came and led Jango out, back to wherever he stayed. Jaster wondered if anyone was there for his nightmares, to hold him and whisper assurances of safety until he fell back asleep. He wondered if anyone tucked him in at night, told him an epic story of Mandalorians past. He fell asleep fitfully, mind fully focused on his ad.
He woke up to shouting and hands holding him in place as his body spasmed. Something was shoved into his arm and the shaking died down, leaving Jaster breathless and hot, sweat sticking his thin clothes to his body. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing as he heard people leaving the room, talking softly. By the time he was able to open his eyes, only Tor remained, looking disheveled and tired.
“Cyar'ad.” Tor placed his hand on Jaster’s forehead, seemingly displeased with the result. “...What did you do to me?” “This wasn’t me, if I could kill that traitor again I would. We were afraid of this but not sure, there is another reason we've kept you in medical all this time.” Jaster could only glare at him. “Montross really tried to kill you. We weren’t sure whether you would experience side effects from getting the antidote so late. You are going to be quite sick for the next few weeks but hopefully, after that you’ll be able to move to our room.”
Jaster absorbed the information distractedly, he was too hot still and wouldn’t process “our room” until much, much later. “Tor- shower- too hot.” Tor seemed startled but regained his composure. “I’ll go get a medic and-” “Nayc. gedet’ye. don’t want to be seen like this.” For a moment, Jaster thought Tor wasn’t going to say anything or worse, ask for something in return. Then; “Jat, Jas. If you’re sure.” He laughed inwardly, it was funny that he would trust Tor on this but he knew Jaster’s boundaries and rarely crossed them. Even when he touched Jaster against his will, it was never more than a fleeting one; a kiss on the forehead, a hand brushing his hair. Tor, even this awful twisted thing that had become of his riduur, wouldn’t do anything to him.
Jaster found himself holding back tears as Tor gently helped him get up and walk to the nearby fresher. “Hold on there for a sec.” He helped Jaster to sit on the closed toilet seat and went to turn on the water, adjusting the temperature as he deemed fit. By the time he got back, Jaster had mostly undressed, struggling to get his shirt off and getting more and more irritated. He almost cried when gentle hands helped to pull the shirt soaked in sweat over his head.
He heard the moment Tor saw his scars, a sharp intake of breath that pierced through the comforting patter of the shower. “Oh Jas…” Jaster shook his head slowly and tried to get up, nearly falling before Tor put a hand on his elbow. Tor stepped into the shower with him, clothes getting soaked but showing no sign of discomfort.
Silently, he began to help Jaster clean himself, always looking to make sure what he was doing was ok. Finally, Tor reached for the shampoo, having finished helping Jaster with his body. He reached for his head but Jaster lurched back. It was too familiar a gesture, washing his hair. “Ok, no hair." Stumbling out of the shower, Tor followed close behind. After he dried off, Jaster still had wet streaks running down his face as he slowly shuffled back over to his bed with Tor spotting him. “Jate ca Jas.” It was the same thing he said every night since Jaster had gotten there. For the first time, Jaster responded, too soft for Tor to hear. “Jate ca Tor.” He closed his eyes and fell asleep.