"Quieten down now children!" The Crèche Assistant's request went unheard over the initiates' shouts and laughter. A wash of youngsters split as it reached her and rejoined on the other side, then broke up into smaller clumps as one of the number lunged forwards, arm outstretched. "Tig!" The flow of running children suddenly altered direction and hurtled in the opposite direction, clambering over tables and sending toys flying. "Children, please!" The assistant was close to tears. She shouldn't have been alone with so many. She had only started a week ago. Surely Jedi Initiates shouldn't be so boisterous? She tried to release her tension into the Force and project calming waves at the youngsters, but it was hard with the noise and the chaos, and she didn't dare close her eyes to help herself concentrate. Things were out of control as it was. The river of hurtling bodies turned again, dashing along the wall with shrieks and screams. One golden-haired youngster braked against the tide, stopped and looked at the assistant, his sky-blue eyes oddly older than his years. "Why are you scared?" he asked, taking a step closer. The assistant didn't know what to say. She was inexperienced, but she was a knight. She knew she wasn't displaying any of her inner disquiet, but this boy had obviously sensed it anyway. The initiate hovered a short distance away from her, his face reflecting childish concern. "Somebody's going to get hurt," she blurted, as one of the tables was sent flying. The initiate went white. "Somebody did get hurt," he said, his own face screwing up with every indication of pain. "Everyone SHUT UP!" he yelled. A confused hush fell over the crowd of children, broken by short, scared, pained cries. The golden-haired youngster limped over to the fallen table and pulled it aside. He knelt on the ground beside the small figure that had been beneath the table, then looked back at the young assistant in an agonized plea. "He is hurting. Please make him stop hurting!" Fighting her own guilt at having allowed this to happen, the assistant hurried over. One look was enough to show her that she needed to contact the infirmary. It was her fault; she let herself lose command of the situation. She felt close to tears as she hurried to find a holoterminal. The golden-haired boy watched her scurry away then sat down and buried his head in his knees, one hand resting on the injured initiate who was crying in snatched bursts between gulps of air. He rocked backwards and forwards, giving the occasional small whimper. After a moment or two another boy crept forward, this one dark-haired and dark-eyed. He sat down next to the golden-haired boy and put his arm around him. "It's okay, Barin, the Healers will help him." "He hurts!" "They'll make him better." "But he hurts! How do I make him stop hurting? He hurts, Xan!" Xanatos nodded and simply sat there, one arm around his friend as he gave silent support. The Healer breezed in with an air of reassurance and competence, a dumpy, six-eyed, six-armed miniature mountain of orange fur. His blue-skinned, humanoid padawan puffed along after him, carrying a large medical bag. The children were quiet now, with the whispering almost-silence of worry and slight fear. There was little need to ask where the patient was. One small boy lay on the ground beside the overturned table. A second was huddled beside him, face pale and tears streaking his cheeks, a third boy offering what reassurance he could. "Two hurt are?" Healer Fliese asked in a sing-song voice as he waddled across to the accident scene. "Say one you do?" he queried, glancing over to the Crèche Assistant. "Make him stop hurting, please," whispered the white-faced Barin. The Healer chittered at him with surprise, one arm reaching to open his bag, a second delving inside to get out a portable medscanner, third and fourth probing gently at his patient, fifth scratching idly at the back of his neck and the sixth patting Barin soothingly on the head. "His leg hurts," the initiate went on. "And here-" he rubbed his hands over his stomach, then swallowed a sob and hid his face in his knees. "Tktktktktk." Fliese started running the scanner over the initiate on the ground, other arms working to loosen the boy's clothing as he performed the examination, one eye regarding Barin with astonishment. "Leg broken, abdominal region injured, right you are being. A Healer you are becoming, yesno?" One arm reached for an injectable analgesic and applied it to the injured boy's arm; a few moments later the boy's cries quietened and Barin relaxed. "I would rather not be a Healer, thank you," Barin said, strained but polite. "Talent you have, human. Using it you are learning," the Healer remarked in his musical sing-song, two eyes looking up from tending to the broken leg as the other four continued to observe what his hands were doing. "I... would rather not visit the infirmary much." "That's Barin, Master," the padawan said. "He was in for a routine vaccination when they brought the survivors in from the Chancellor's acceptance ceremony bombing. They ended up having to sedate him- Barin, I mean." The Healer's fur ruffled up like a puff-ball. "Mind shield you are not knowing?" he asked Barin. "I think I need more practice shielding, sir," the golden-haired initiate admitted. "I... please, sir... I should think I never would want to be a Healer. Even if I could block out what other people felt... I would still know, and they would be there, all the time, hurting, and..." he gulped. Xanatos' arm tightened around his friend. "Nobody's going to make you be a Healer, Barin. You can stay here with me. Nobody'll make you go anywhere." The dark-haired padawan gave the Healer a look of appeal. "He'll get better again if you could go away. Please? I'll look after him." Fliese chittered to himself, and made arrangements to have his patient removed to the infirmary. "A good Healer he is being," he told Xanatos, who still had his arms around Barin. Barin had hidden his face in his knees again. "He doesn't want to be a Healer!" Xanatos told the Healer defiantly. Fliese sighed, and took himself, his padawan and the injured Initiate away to the infirmary. Perhaps, once Barin had learned to shield himself better, he would change his mind. A talent like that could be of great benefit to the Temple; almost any of the available Healers would be pleased to take the boy on. Xanatos stayed with his friend, rocking him gently. "It's okay, Barin. They've gone now. Nobody's going to take you away. You're safe now. Nobody's going to take you away from me. Never." |
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| Cursed Gift By HaiGan |
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