The medical droids buzz around me like a swarm of bees, scanning the wound on my thigh, peeling off the bandages on my face. They are the same model as AZI, back on Kamino, but it appears even the droids are trying to preserve energy-- the light in their eyes is dim, as if they are running on low power.  I sit on a cold metal examination table, the yellow lights irritating my eye. The extent of the injuries come up on the screen across from us, and I read them as they appear, rubbing my hands along my now bare wrists. Without the handcuffs, my hands feel too light.

Third degree burn on thigh, needs immediate medical attention. Blindness in left eye, caused by blunt trauma and second degree burn to face. Mild concussion. Three cracked ribs, dislocated knee.

    Captain Trace is standing across the room, his two troopers playing some kind of card game at his feet, their helmets in their laps. They way that they are bent over, intent and concentrated on their game, and the way that he watches them, reminds me of a father with sons. He looks up just as the droids float away to get bandages, he gives me a small smile, his scars stretching with the movement. 

"We haven't been properly introduced." He speaks, pushing off the wall and plodding towards me. He's moving slow, as if I am a wild animal, as if he could spook me. He pauses by the table, waving the droids away.  "My name is Trace." 

  One of the troopers glances up, eyes bright as he looks at me. Kind brown eyes, matching Trace's. 

   "I'm Sparky." He says grinning. He has silver-grey streaks in his dark hair, and a tattoo creeping up his neck. His suit is covered in stripes of teal, hastily applied. His brother doesn't look up.

"I'm Ty." He says, putting a card down. Ty has bleached hair, the roots dark as his hair starts to grow in. His eyes are narrow, concentrated on his game.

  I flinch as one of the droids raises a clawed hand to my face, applying a black bandage along the mark left by the lightsaber. An immediate cooling sensation follows, and I sigh in relief. When it floats away, I speak up.

  "How do you know Fennec?" I ask, tucking my good foot under me. Both of the troopers on the floor look at one another, chuckling. Captain Trace huffs, rolling his eyes, but I noticed the slight hint of red that dusted his face, and the way he leans against the medical table, playing with his hands. 

  I smile, thinking of my sister. I look him up and down, this time with new eyes. Wondering what Fennec did for him to owe her a favor. Taking in the grey of his hair, noting if she is into older guys. And wondering if I could give her a hard time for it. 

   He opens his mouth to speak, and the door to the infirmary whizzes open.

Another trooper, helmet looking like it was dunked in teal paint, rushes in. He slides to a stop, chest heaving, and even though I can't see through the helmet, I know that he is stressed.

Trace steps away from the table, posture tense. I push the droids away from me. 

"What's wrong, Skipper?" He asks, holding out a gloved hand. The trooper staggers towards him, breaths coming in gasps. He grips his captain's arm, looking small next to the large man.

  "They are coming for you, sir." He says, speaking so quickly that he is stumbling over his words. I straighten in my seat, sliding forward. "You need to leave. They are right behind me, there is no time--"

  The doors whirl open again, and a squad of Storm troopers burst in, rifle's concentrated on the four clones. The armor as pale as stripped bones in the shadowy room, their presence like predators in a herd of prey. They have us pinned, and it makes them bold. 

  "Hands in the air, now!" 

  "Grab the prisoner!" 

  Sparky and Ty raise their blasters, but Trace holds up a hand, stopping them.

    Storm troopers sprint towards me. I scramble off the table, muscles moving slow, too slow, swollen leg restraining me, limited vision causing me to be cautious. I can't see them as I turn, fighting as they grab me, snapping my hands behind my back. They come into my vision, and I struggle. 

  "Let... go... of me!" I say, pulling my left hand away and blindly shoving one of the troopers away, before his partner digs his fingers into my arm.  Handcuffs burn against my wrists. 

  "Don't hurt her." Trace snaps, stepping forward. They ignore him, dragging me back. 

   "Captain Trace, you are under arrest for treason and assistance of escape for prisoner one- thirty - one." A Storm Trooper, with a red shoulder pad signifying rank, speaks. "Put your hands on your head." 

  "Trooper, I don't know what you are talking about." Trace speaks harshly, eyes on me as I try to pull away from my captors. "She needs medical attention." 

 The storm trooper ignores him, waving at his squad. 

  "Arrest him, take him to a cell!" His visor turns towards me, and I glare at him.  "And take her to the transport shuttle! The rouge clone force is here for her! We have lost enough today." 

  His words process in my head as the troopers pull me out into the hallway, and I hear the distant hum of sirens. 

    The Rouge Clone Force. 

  They are here. 

    In a burst of hysteria, I struggle, pulling, yelling. They try to push me, grunting as they try to re- direct me towards the hangar.

  Groups of Troopers pause in the hallways, watching as I fight. I must look crazy, half insane, as I bruise and bloody my wrists trying to pull out of the metal handcuffs, digging my heels into the ground, ignoring the way my leg screams in pain.

The hangar looms near. 

 Exhausted, I go limp in their hands, letting them pull me along, muttering to themselves. The grey floor moves underneath me, turning to grey concrete as we enter the hangar. The quiet rumble of engines vibrates through the floor. I wonder where they are taking me.

    I shudder, looking up. 

Grey armor, headed across the hangar. A red bandana. 

  "Hunter!" I scream, trying to bolt, the storm troopers yelping in surprise. "Hunter!" 

  His head shoots up, looking back and forth, trying to locate the sound of my voice. The troopers flanking him try to pull him along, but his feet are planted to the floor. 

  "Hunter!" 

  When he sees me, his eyes widen, looking as if he has seen a ghost. He pulls away from the clone troopers by his side, bolting across the hangar. 

   I elbow the trooper to my right, trying everything in my power to get to him. In a last desperate attempt, I spin around, sliding the trooper on my left's feet out from under him. 

  I kick the soldier next to me in the back of the knee, and he crashes to the ground. Jerking my elbow back, I slam it into his temple, and he crumbles to the floor, out cold.

Hands tied, I stumble towards Hunter. He's sprinting, and his are eyes wide as he takes in my bedraggled form— my choppy hair, the still healing scar down my face, the blind eye that stares out at him. The bruised along my arms are a testimony in themselves. I look like I've been to hell and back.

   But he looks absolutely perfect. When he reaches me, I collapse into him, inhaling his sent, finding comfort in his touch, even though his hands are cuffed.

   "You're alive." He breaths out, a hand resting on the back of my neck. "Stars, you're alive, Ava, I thought you were dead—"

  "You're here." I say in the same awed voice.

  He kisses me, steadying me. Warm lips pressed against mine, my head spinning, whispering 'I love you' before tugging away.

  I seem to have forgotten how handsome he is. His dark hair is greasy, held back by his red bandana. The dirt smeared on his face makes me want to ask a thousand questions, but I forget how to speak as my eyes look over his face, my mouth opening and closing, my heart hurting as I see the troopers behind him rushing towards us.

   "I love you." He whispers again, eyes trained on mine, thumb running over the scar on my face. His touch is ghostlike, gentle, as if afraid I will shatter. He looks over my shoulder at something. Our time is being cut short. "I'll come back for you. I promise."

  I hear the troopers— the pounding of their feet on the floor, their shouts, telling us to hold still, to put our hands above our heads. My eyes remain on his— the kind, deep brown, the swirls of green and spots of gold that I somehow forgot— to give me something to hold onto as my world tilts.

"I'm being transferred. I don't know where, but you'll have to find me." I stutter, leaning towards him. My hands clang in their handcuffs behind my back. I wonder if I am dreaming.

"Don't worry." He speaks. "I will." 

  I don't want to go back.

"Take care of Omega, please." I say, pulling towards him for a kiss. My little blonde-haired Angel, who would never do anything wrong. I push her out of my head, as the pain in my heart too much to bear.

"I will. I always do." He confirms.

I don't ever want to leave him again.

"Don't forget me." I plead, gripping his hand. He smiles, but his eyes betray so much sadness that I am mad at myself for causing him this much pain.

"I couldn't forget you if I tried." He whispers.

They yank us apart, seeming surprised when I don't struggle— my head down, eyes on the floor to hide my tears. He fights, trying to pull away from the soldiers that have their hands fastened on his shoulders. His eyes are burning holes onto the back of my head as they drag me away. 

 Thanks, you guys!!

  - Kena 

(Word count: 1715)