Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Rán?”  Aure stops her with a hand on her shoulder, frowning as she looks up at him with glassy eyes.  “Hey, are you okay?”

She blinks at him, but nods, swaying a little with the motion.  “I’m fine, Aure, thank you.”

He hasn’t fought at her side for a year without learning her tells, but a blind bantha could see Rán is lying.  She’s shivering, but her cheeks are flushed - as light as she is, it’s a glaring neon sign.  Her shoulders are hunched like she’s hurting, and he can hear her breath wheezing in her chest.  So he goes for blunt.  “ Osik , sir.  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just a silly cold-”

“Just a cold?  Sir, you’re sick .  We can call a rest-”

“I’m fine, I can keep going.  The base-”

“Is still going to be there when we get there.  It’s low-priority, the general said.  This is just a clean-up mission, you can get some rest till you’re better.”  His tone is firm, but he softens at her conflicted look.  “Rán, we have the time, and you’ll fight better if you’re not sick.”

She makes a face.  “You’re just saying that because I said it to you last-”  She’s cut off by a harsh, wracking cough, nearly bending double with it as she tried to catch her breath.  

“Ba’yair!” Aure calls, sweeping her off her feet - kriff, she’s so light , without the solid muscle he’s used to with his brothers - to carry her to the medic.  What worries him more is that she doesn’t argue, just rests her head on his pauldron, still trying to catch her breath.  

In the end, it is a cold, but Ba’yair tells them in no uncertain tones that it’s far worse than it should be, because she’s been pushing herself too hard.  He orders her to rest, despite her insistence that she can keep going, at least till nightfall, and Aure takes the opportunity to give the order to set up camp while she’s busy trying to argue.

By the time they’re done, Rán is asleep, and he isn’t sure if it’s because Ba’yair drugged her or if she was just too tired from forcing herself to keep going.  He decides that it isn’t very important, and by the look on the medic’s face, it’s better if he doesn’t know.  

Rán looks too pale now, instead of flushed, and her dark hair is damp with sweat.  There’s a cold pack resting at her neck, and more at her wrists where they’re resting on her chest.  At least she seems to be breathing easier, propped up on a small stack of folded blankets.  Her comm goes off, and he answers it before it can wake her.  “General Kenobi.”

“Ah, Captain Aure, I apologize, I thought I was calling my Padawan.”

He clears his throat, stepping outside.  “You did, General.  The commander’s asleep right now, seems she’s come down with a cold.  Sergeant Ba’yair is looking after her, he says she’ll be alright.”

Kenobi might have a better sabacc face than Rán, but Aure can still see the worry in his eyes and the way he runs a hand over his beard.  “You’re sure it’s just a cold?” he says, and Aure nods.

“Just a cold, though it’s worse than usual because she’s been pushing herself and trying not to let on.”

There’s a soft snort and a wry voice from off-holo - “That sounds familiar, general.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Commander.”  Still, he can see a hint of a smile on the general’s lips.  “You’ll look after her, Captain?”

“Absolutely, General.  She’s one of ours.”  He tries to keep the fondness out of his voice, but he thinks Kenobi sees it anyway.  

Kenobi smiles and nods.  “Keep me updated, and tell her it’s her Master’s orders for her to rest, if you have to.  May the Force be with you, Aure.”

“I’ll pass that along.  You too, General.”  The holo blinks out, and he shakes his head, going back in to sit next to Rán for a little while.  He doesn’t doubt she’s going to try to be on her feet as soon as possible, but for now, she can get some sleep.