Armored Passion | The Mandalorian

|45|

It's freezing. 

It's like there are layers upon layers of thick ice working through my veins, making my skin colder and colder than the piercing bite of the air surrounding me. A shiver threatens to work through my frail limbs, but the threshold of that notion hasn't been crossed just yet. Freezing air pumps into my aching lungs, stinging and burning them with every struggled breath I take, making my body fight for air more and more each time. 

"Update on her status?"

My body feels absolutely numb, yet I can still feel every single little cut and bruise that has been inflicted upon my olive-brown skin, every sticky bacta patch, every piece of gauze, and every tight-pulled bandage. 

"Surprisingly, she's still alive and stable."

"Damn right I'm still alive and fucking stable," I rasp, slowly opening my eyes as much as they permit me to. I am immediately forced to squint them, thanks to the burning bright lights hanging right above me. A few rough coughs rack my chest, making my body tense up in a painful strain. 

"Miss Dameron," a new voice calls out. 

How many times am I going to have to tell someone that it's Djarin—

Someone gently cups the side of my face, guiding my head back to look up at the ceiling. They carefully pull my eyelids up, flashing an even brighter, more concentrated light in my eyes. I whine and pull away, lifting my hands to push them away. 

"Hi there, I'm Dr. Sullou. I'm the head medic here on the Imperial cruiser that you're currently on and I'm going to be taking care of you for the time being until Dr. Pershing returns. A few stormtroopers found you washed up on shore just outside the rhydonium factory on Morack," Dr. Sullou says, feeling around my neck and the back of my head as he speaks. "Do you remember anything about your time on Morack?"

"Fuck, I can't believe I actually survived that fall," I mutter, groaning as I try to shift around on the bed I'm laying on. I furrow my brows and look over to the young-looking doctor. "The stormtrooper that tackled me... did he survive?"

"It seems you've maintained your atrocious resilience throughout the years." I glance over to the side to see Moff Gideon standing in the doorway of the small medical room I'm in. He grimaces and straightens his shoulders out. "The trooper that tackled you wasn't as lucky."

"What a shame," I say sarcastically, narrowing my eyes at his very presence.

"Dress the rest of her wounds and then send her along to the main bridge. There will be an officer waiting outside the door to escort her," he says, nodding his head towards Dr. Sullou before turning to walk away, but he stops in the middle of the doorway. "And don't even think about letting her use a bacta tank to heal her wounds. I want her to feel each and every one of her mistakes for as long as possible."

And with that, he walks out, letting the door slide shut behind him and his stupid wisping cape. I let out a rough sigh and settle carefully on the stiff mattress beneath me. 

"Fuck my life," I breathe out. I flex a few of my muscles in an attempt to gauge how much everything really hurt. My limbs felt like they had blown off, but they were surprisingly still intact.

"I just need to redress the wound on your torso and then I can send you on your way," Dr. Sullou says, sending me a kind smile as he pulls on a pair of gloves. He looks young—almost too young to be this deeply wrapped up in this Imperial bullshit.

"What's your name?" I ask, looking over at him. 

"Sullou—"

"Your first name, kid," I correct.