Cloning/Medical Facilities

At the surge of Morgan's concern, Adelle brushed her hand over Morgan's hair and gave her a lopsided grin. "I'll be fine, dearheart. I've just been having some bad dreams, that's all."

She stood, yawning, as a warm wave of drowsiness washed over her. Her eyelids felt hot and heavy. Moving began to be more of an effort. Adelle placed her hand on Morgan's shoulder and gently guided her into the small waiting area. It wasn't much; just two wingback chairs and a sofa, with a coffee table between. Her hand slipped from Morgan's back as she flopped down on the couch. "So. Force Imbuement, huh." It stung, knowing Morgan had done that on her own. Force Weapon, the ability to imbue an object with the Force, had been a rediscovered talent of hers, one that she'd been surprised to find she was good at. For her adopted daughter to have picked it up and used it—she was proud for sure but she still felt like she'd missed out on something important. She should have been here, with Morgan, instead of on Nar Shaddaa.

"Have you practiced with it any?" she asked through a yawn. The heaviness in her bones began to creep into her mind. Vaguely, Adelle remembered she didn't know which dose she'd given herself. Kriff.

Vidalu Na'an loped through the bulk of the Medical wing with her hands in her pockets and her eyes on the floor. The place was unusually full, with patients and attendants struggling, arguing, talking about topics upon topics all having nothing to do with her. It had been quieter when the Masters had given her a bed here--at times, she'd been alone in the stark, duracrete-lined space. It seemed like a friendlier, more exciting place when it was full, but all the same. It wasn't like anyone in Medical actually wanted to be there. 

She ducked past a team of nurses struggling to clean up a mess. The likely cause seemed to be a young...Tusken? who had ducked under her shoulder seconds before to leave the bay. She'd been grumbling what sounded like obscenities, and Na'an had only been able to catch the word healer in the jumble before she'd disappeared down the hall. The nurses didn't look much happier; Na'an mumbled an apology as she stooped under a pair of arms and stepped over a few shards of broken glass before moving on. 

Fortunately, her business was nowhere close to that disaster. Adelle had really fixed up the back offices since Na'an's treatment had subsided--the duracrete had been covered with a carpet thick enough to feel through the thin soles of her boots, and a few pieces of children's art were tacked up on the walls with pins. The carpet muffled the sounds of the waiting room, leaving just a warm non-sound all but designed to lull patients into a doze. There wasn't an attendant or any medical supplies in this area--not surprising; even after months of therapy she'd never seen Doc working with other members of the staff.

Adelle's office was likely behind the door to one side. And that door was shut--and locked.

Na'an didn't bother knocking, however; there was a possibility that Adelle was either not there at all or too busy to attend to someone who wasn't even hurt. Instead, she padded her way back to a group of chairs in the middle of the adjoining waiting room, pouring herself into one and kicking her feet up onto another. Rather than dozing off, she fished her shoto out of one pocket, fiddling with the catch at the back. The process used to open it was like a mindless sort of puzzle--opening it, letting the smooth crystal inside roll across her palm, then clicking it back in place took up space in her brain and gave her something to do. 

Na'an sat up, taking her feet off the chair and watching the trembling little girl in the door with surprise. She snapped the shoto shut and slid it back into place, her fingers digging in the deep pocket for an eyepatch. In her experience, it was always better to use the patch with kids--not that they liked her any better with it on, but the looks of quivering terror weren't as frequent when small children didn't have to look at her scars.  

 "Uh, not especially," she said, keeping her tone deliberately light. "She asked me to show up when I could, but if she's busy..." She stood to go, backing away from the little girl with her hands up. 

"I...I'm Na'an."  Na'an adjusted the patch, making sure the thick fabric covered all of the scarring, then settled slowly back into a seat. "Your...Mama, was it? Your mama was my doctor once upon a time. Sorry if I scared you."

She bent to rest on her knees, keeping her hands carefully in view. From a few yards away, she could see the girl's eyes follow them carefully. The little thing wasn't going for the whip around her waist, but Na'an saw no point in giving her a reason to.  


"She okay in there?" she asked, tilting her chin at the door the girl held half-open.

"You don't know?"  

It wasn't that surprising; after all, Doc had always seemed to keep so mum about herself when working that the fact that someone called her Mama had been more of a surprise. The idea that she'd keep a cute kid in the dark about someone like Na'an wasn't that shocking at all. 

So rather than getting into the details, Na'an merely tapped the center of her eyepatch with one finger. "I got hurt pretty bad, and it made me pretty sick. Then your mama worked a miracle and made me better."  She quirked her mouth upwards in half a smile at the words; phrased like that, her time in Felucia's medical wards sounded like some kind of fairy tale.  

"That's fine, though. I'm sure your Mama's just glad you're safe enough to not need saving."

Now that the kid was calmed down a little, she really was pretty cute; with a round face and big eyes that stood out bright green against the tan, it was hard to tell just how old she really was. She fidgeted as she spoke, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that some of those fidgets were more out of childish awkwardness with strangers than any real fear. She still was sneaking looks at the eye, though, flushing dark each time Na'an caught her glancing up. The sight of what was underneath the patch had clearly made an impression...

"Pretty ugly, wasn't it?" she finally said, and the resulting squeak from the kid only made her smirk more pronounced. "Don't worry, most kids your age think so."

Na'an paused briefly at that. The little girl's grin looked a almost painful despite her words, as if already anticipating the rush of pity she'd get from the strange new adult...

Then the pause passed. The kid's smile wavered. And Na'an responded.

"Damn right!" she exclaimed, pointing sharply at the kid. This time she ignored the resulting squeak. "Too damn right. Every scar's a story, and you know what ends each one?"

She leaned in, her smirk spreading into a conspiratorial grin. "Three words, kiddo. 'But I survived.' Here, I'll show you what I mean."

To demonstrate Na'an tilted her neck to the side, pulling the armhole of her shirt inward to expose the shoulder. With her free hand she traced a broad line of pink scar tissue, arcing over her shoulder and petering out just over her collarbone.
"Shiim," she explained, watching the girl's bright little eyes fix on the old wound. "Lightsaber cut. A little more effort, a few more inches down and it coulda taken the arm clean off. But I survived."

That was true, in the strictest sense of the word. It left out a few details, yes, but what did a child need to know those for?

At the sight of the claws raking across the little girl's ribcage, Na'an sat back and whistled through her teeth. "That's a hell of a story for someone your size," she said, and pursed her mouth with interest. "Most impressive. I didn't get one worth showing off like that until I was twice that age."

She shifted her weight in her seat, pulling up her shirt on the side no longer bearing her weight. With her other hand she hooked the edge of her cargo pants, and tugged them just enough to show the slight curve of her left hip.

"See that?" she said, and tilted her chin to indicate an oval of warped, shiny skin. "Blaster rifle. I was...twelve, I think? Maybe thirteen, somewhere in that range. Found myself on the wrong side of a bunch of Mando bounty hunters out in the Western Rim. I can't say we won that fight by any measure, but..."  Na'an trailed off meaningfully, giving the kid room to continue what had, in some bizarre sense, become a game.