Tears streamed from his glazed eyes, making the blood run in thin tails down his cheeks.  The boy’s long white bangs were covered in the stuff where they clung to his skin.  Maru frantically tried to wipe the blood away, disgusted by its presences on such a young face that he was more accustom to seeing laughing.  This was what he had feared would happen.  Dakar wasn’t ready for this yet.  But the Empire didn’t care about such things.

       The blood covered most of Dakar’s face, smeared there by the boy’s own hands.  Maru gave up trying to wipe it away, and simply gathered Dakar back into his arms and rocked him gently.  They were kneeling on the floor in one of the side hallways of the parliament building.  The battle was still going on around them, but for the moment this hallway was empty.  That didn’t mean it would stay that way for long.  Maru needed to get Dakar up.  Luska and Bratikis could only be a few halls away, and wouldn’t give up that easily.  They knew how weak Dakar was now, and they would use that to their advantage.  Their momentary escape didn’t mean it was over.  This fight wouldn’t be over until somebody died.

       But Dakar was still heaving with sobs, and Maru could sense the pain pulsing in time with it.  It didn’t matter that Dakar hadn’t killed Luska.  He could have.  Just like before.  Ten years later, after all Maru had tried to put the young man back together, that memory would always be there.  The first kill, and what was supposed to be the last.

       Something exploded not far off, bringing Maru back to the matter at hand.  The Republic’s capital was under serious attack.  And it wasn’t safe here.

       “Dakar?”  He tried softly, pushing the young man back to look at him.  Those green eyes were still glazed over.  “Dakar we have to leave quickly.”  Maru whispered hastily to him.  “You need to stand.”  There was no change so he tried something else.  “Yevon!”  He snapped in an authoritarian voice.  The boy’s bright green eyes suddenly focused on his with their usual sharpness.  Maru didn’t know whether to be relieved or even to feel an even deeper despair.  Nystan had done this to Dakar.  The pain and the discipline went hand in hand.  “I need you to stand.”  He said more softly.

       Dakar nodded carefully and tried.  His hands went out to push himself up, but he quickly drew them back with a hiss and clutched them to his chest.

       Maru could have slapped himself.  How could he have forgotten that Dakar was still bleeding?  “Let me see.”  He demanded, gently taking Dakar’s pale hands in his own darkly tanned ones.  Blood covered the back of the boy’s hands, and when Maru turned them over he saw that there was good reason as to why.  Instead of the soft pale skin that was normally there, was charred and destroyed flesh that pealed back away from the muscle.  Black and red where it had once been white and pink.

       It was an unfortunate side affect of the power and of being a strong mage. 

       “It doesn’t hurt.”  Dakar whispered quietly to him, his voice still hoarse.  Maru looked up at him in disbelief, and Dakar actually smiled.  “The nerves are too burnt.”  He explained wirily, but there was a slight tremble in his voice that betrayed his demeanor.

       “Come on,” Maru said as he took Dakar by the elbows and slowly helped him to stand.  “We need to get you treatment.  I have nothing to wrap them in.”

       Dakar nodded in silent reply, and stood up straighter.

       He looked better, but that didn’t mean anything.  “You okay?”

       Dakar nodded again.

       “Are you lying blatantly to me?”

       Dakar smiled a little and nodded again.

       Maru sighed and rubbed at his cheek until he remembered that a piece of debris had gashed it.  “Come on.  All hell’s broken loose.”