Threads of Silver

Found

You laid, covered in mud,  wounded, and bleeding, until the first gray light of morning. Throughout the night, you tried several times to free yourself from the trap, but it was in vain. The metal contraption stayed tight in its vice grip, shredding the meat of your leg with each movement. You tried to maintain your consciousness, only making small movements, racking your brain for a way to get out of this. You didn't think this was something you'd talk your way out of. Sorry I was trying to steal your ship. Can you let me go?

The invisible string that seemed to have wrapped around your chest was pulled taut and remained as such throughout the remainder of the night. 

With every shift and struggle, you felt the spikes of the trap slice into your skin deeper, deeper, scarping against your leg bone. Your face felt numb, and you almost felt as if you'd lose consciousness, your vision blackening and becoming fuzzy. 

While the storm had nearly dissipated, the rain kept a steady, taunting drizzle. It felt like the universe was threatening to drown you. Hell, you did feel drowned- smothered in mud, laying in nearly three inches of water, and clinging to life. You felt light headed, and had long given up on saving yourself, feeling the effects of the blood loss, nearly ready to succumb and just get it over with. There was no telling what the fuck these heartless soldiers had in store for you. 

It wasn't long before you heard the sloshing and slipping of footfalls nearing you. You felt tears continue to well up and overflow, cascading down your face. You thanked the sky for the light rain, hiding your tears and giving you at least a shred of dignity. You didn't want to face your captors like a terrified, sniveling mess- at least they wont be able to tell you're crying. 

The bleach white helmets approached, making headway through the brush, and they stalled a few feet from you. It was obvious they could see you, and your breathing hiccuped with realization of just how much deep shit you were actually in. You kept your vision straight up to the sky, remaining still and trying to breathe steadily.

 Maybe they'll just leave me for fucking dead. If I'm lucky. 

"Sir." In your peripherals, you saw one of them turned to the side, calling back to someone behind them. "It must have went into the trap over night."

It? I'm an 'it,' now? You bit the inside of your lip, silently praying, refusing to make eye contact. You figured with your current state, covered in blood and rain and mud, it was probably hard to tell your gender. 

"Bring her to the medical unit." A modulated, male voice caused your eyes to jerk to the side, facing the black, glistening helmet of the tallest figure. You had underestimated his height- he was towering over the group of Stormtroopers, who immediately began to approach at his command. You didn't know why he wore a helmet- he was no Trooper. He didn't seem like a soldier, but you had no desire to see what was under the emotionless mask. You didn't want to know what kind of monster was so evil, he had to hide his face. Pain was overriding your thought process, and you didn't notice the sharp twang, as if it had been plucked and was vibrating, of the invisible string in your chest at the dark creature's voice. 

Two Troopers came forward, holstering their blasters. They knew you would be no threat- hell, you nearly looked dead already. 

One of them bent down, deactivating the trap's connection to the ground, but its jaws remained just as aggressively clamped down on your leg, no promise of relief. The two soliders bent down, grabbing you by your shoulders. Your head lulled forward with the shift in position, and your vision nearly went black. 

    You weren't sure how much blood you had lost, but your entire body felt wet-paper thin and just as fragile. They held you steady, keeping a solid, strong, armored arm locked tightly onto and under your arms, firmly forcing you to hobble on your one good leg. You kept your head down, refusing to look up (not that you had the energy or strength to, any way). Your gaze fell onto the large shiny black boots as you limped past the tall masked figure, feeling his burning gaze. Your leg screamed in agony as the blood rushed and flowed with gravity to the wound, fresh, glowing-bright blood flowing more freely down your leg, around the metal of the trap,  and into your boot. You hissed, and started to slow your pace, which the Troopers were not happy with. They grunted, cursing you, and continued to half carry, half drag you to the ramp leading into the ship.

Before you were fully up the ramp, your entire body fell limp in their armored grip, and your vision fell black. 

__________

You felt warmth, and dryness. Like a fresh towel from a dryer. 

A faint beeping sound made its way into your thoughts, and for a moment you forgot where you were. It wasn't long until the aching pain of your leg reminded you exactly where you were. You pried your eyes open, shifting as you took in the bright white surroundings. The beeping was obviously medical, and it wasn't long until you gathered your thoughts- you were in a hospital unit. Your arms felt heavy, and your head was pounding. 

You glanced down, your eyes even hurting with the movement, and saw your leg, now free of its metal teeth, but not free from the wounds it left behind. 

It was wrapped in white gauze, but obviously had quickly bled through. You suddenly realized you were not wearing pants, and quickly gathered you were not in any of the clothes you had been found in. You were half relieved, half mortified- glad to finally be dry and warm, and not completely covered in mud, but you also felt extremely violated. You were in a cloth hospital gown that fit loosely around your frame. 

You moved to touch your hair, wondering if it were still caked in cold rain water and mud, but felt a sharp tug.

"Fuck!" You hissed, noticing you were connected to an IV drip, following the small clear tube from the top of your hand up to a small bag filled with clear liquid. You gently set your hand back down to your side, cursing at the effort it took to even move. 

Your head fell back onto the pillow, breathing heavy. 

"Ok. It's gonna be ok. They wouldn't waste the medical supplies if they were gonna kill you," You told yourself, quietly, but out loud, as if you were speaking it into existence- into a truth. 

Suddenly, a small hiss came from the front of the room, and the heavy gray door slid sideways. Your entire body tensed, using up what energy you had regained. 

For some reason, you had expected the worst- the masked monster, but instead a man in a white doctors uniform came in. You sighed in relief, but cursed yourself for thinking this First Order doctor could possibly be any better. They were all playing for the same team. His skin was pale, dark eyes and sandy hair. He seemed fairly short, but still athletic. For a doctor. The door slid shut behind him.

"You lost quite a bit of blood." His voice was sharp and rigid and matter-of-fact, and he kept his gaze on his tablet in front of him, typing. "I'm surprised you're even conscious right now." 

You didn't respond. 

"Your vitals seem to be improving, however." He paused. "Considering."

You still didn't respond. After a few moments, he looked up at you, then to your leg, his eyebrows furrowing. 

"I'll have a nurse change that for you." He made a few more motions of typing on the tablet, and then turned to a metal stand in the corner of the room. Your eyes followed him, your heart beat beginning to race. As did the beeping of the heart monitor.

"Easy. It's just pain medication." He called, obviously noting the rise in heart rate. He held a syringe of amber liquid, moving to the side of you. 

You didn't trust him, but still didn't speak.

He moved to the IV tube, removing the bag and moving to administer the new medication he had just retrieved into the tube that led into the top of your wrist, but stopped when the door suddenly hissed and opened, two Stormtroopers entering the room. 

"Commander Ren wants to speak to her." One of them spoke, their voice modulated through their helmet. The blond doctor turned, lowering the syringe.

"She is still in no condition to-" 

"Direct orders from Commander Ren." 

The doctor seemed to bite his tongue, pausing for a moment, but then began removing the IV. 

The heart rate monitor sped up faster than ever before.