CHAPTER 11

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THE AWAITED CONFRONTATION!

*:･ﾟ✧

Smoky tendrils curl around Gaia, threading through her side-swept hair and hooking between her numb fingers. She squints through the screening haze, allowing her feet to lead the way while traversing the rugged terrain of Nevarro's neglected environment. The shiver or sense of walking on air — billowing like a white storm amongst the eerie wind — remains wrenched into the crevices of her mind, a haunting symphony of a hundred eerie presences enveloping her. She's alone, or so she would think. Doubt nags at her.

The echo of a woman's laughter chimes.

"Hello?" Gaia calls out, voice in the wind.

A silhouette is carved from the smoke, standing firm ahead. A waver flashes across Gaia and she's desperate for breath. "Sorry, but I. . .I don't know why I'm here, I think."

The throttling fog of death is whisked aside for a destined moment, and the blank face staring back at Gaia brings her to a swaying halt all of a sudden. A cold quiver reels in her chest, making it seem like a bucket of water has just been dumped over her head and is dripping through the fabric of her armor, staining it like splotches of crimson on fresh-fallen, pure white snow. Tears are clashing against her eyes, rendering her vision blurry yet the woman's face is as she remembers it.

However, bruises nor cutting scars are no longer engraved into her blue complexion. Her luminous eyes, they seem happier, although a hint of sorrow has been chiseled around their soft edges as if dissatisfied.

"Laven—"

A devastated sob trembles upon Gaia as the woman begins to walk away. She chases after the ghost in a maddening pursuit, the air knocked from her lungs, voice crying out, "Stop! I can't be alone again, please! . . ."

Gaia yelps, the surface of something unknown and solid colliding with her in the cloud of black wisps filtering through the air. She tumbles to the ground like a shooting star, the anticipation of hitting anything not striking her mind as a possibility. A pained moan falls from her mouth. She cranes her neck slowly upwards, blinking defenselessly at the broad person blocking her from going any further.

Mando.

Gaia's head hangs low — nothing but a hollow cavern stretching in her chest — even as she forces herself to stand on unsure legs, sniffling and trying to stifle the hiccups catching on her tongue. For some weird reason, guilt twinges coldly at her heart.

"I. . ." Gaia weeps, tears streaming down her scars. "I can't believe I'm breaking apart. . ."

A steady thumb is reaching out for her cheek, wiping a glistening tear away. "You're not."

"I am," Gaia argues. Her gaze comes to linger on Manso's visor. "If I'm not, then what exactly? I've barely functioned as a person these past few years because of the Empire, and I don't recognize myself sometimes. I. . . and I don't know what to do about it. Every day, I feel like a walking corpse, a. . .a tiny survivor with nothing or no one to survive for. It's so painful and exhausting that I just want to not exist at all sometimes. Not breathe. . ."

"You're wrong. You do have something to survive for:your people." Mando places his gloved palms on either side of Gaia's cheeks in solace, running his thumbs outward and freeing her of the burning tears. "Sometimes it's okay to be tired of the fight you battle, but you have to remember they believe in you. You've come so far, become your own person with everything to live for. And I, too, believe in you. I know you can fight through this."

"You sound so sure," Gaia remarks in a broken voice, his warm touch lingering.

Mando leans forward, assuring, and rests the foremost part of his helmet against Gaia's own forehead so they're perfectly aligned against one another. Her breath begins to shudder as she closes her tired eyes shut, relishing in his nebulous presence, seemingly feeling as if she could just melt into his withstanding hope;become one with him and never leave, not as long as the stars above burn brightly as they were made to. She will never forget it — the way her heart beats with fiery purpose, all because of him, only him.

"Gaia," Mando breathes, casting a tremor through her. "You matter, and you survive because you care for the people you've lost, you care for the girl who dreamed of a peaceful life. You're fighting for them all. You're fighting for you. Now you go, say it. . ."

Gaia smiles tenderly, happiness engulfing her soul. "I'm fighting for them. I'm fighting for me," she recites with the whole of her being. She withdraws the slightest bit, watching him for a moment. "But I'm also fighting for you."

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Once Gaia awoke from her relinquished sleep, she was laid in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar hut with Mando gone from her side. She had rather quickly taken notice of a man afterwards — buried in the depths of his wandering thoughts — spilled over a desk to her left while studying and perusing the herbaceous plant pinched between his fingers. Currently, he's still so absorbed in his work that she believes him to have not become aware of her careful observations, and she can only assume him to be the village medic or something close along those lines.

"Are you feeling any better?" he questions aloud suddenly, much to her startled surprise.

Gaia hesitates before answering. "I. . ." A digging itch latches unto her parched throat, installing a coughing fit she hadn't expected.

The man immediately vacates his stool and fetches her a cup of water. He offers it to Gaia with a lack of words, guiding her to sit upright and then prompting her to drink the cooling liquid. She takes it with a lack of reluctance, and it soothes her throat immensely. The chill is so refreshing that she drinks it all in several large gulps, eventually wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as the man places the cup onto the floor. She can feel his eyes settle on her then, almost as if gawking or admiring. As he does so, her gaze coasts over the marks beneath his eyes, his skin strained and taxed.

"Wow," he mumbles.

A frown creases Gaia's brow. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, uhh. . ." The man appears sheepish all of a sudden, most likely thinking she wouldn't have heard him. "It's just. . .I never would've thought I might get to meet a Crenata in person. Sorry if I seem rude or impolite."

"It's fine. . ." Gaia narrows her eyes, shifting away from the man. "How did I get here?"

"Mando," he tells in earnest. "He found you in the barn, collapsed and faint. He then carried you out and insisted on a medic — or so I was told — and had his friend scream everybody's ears off. A fellow villager led me to them."

"Mando. . ." Gaia says, a scuttle of hot pink unfurling within her chest. The dream she was trapped in earlier comes to mind, and the raw coldness of his helmet still throbs in even the tiniest fissures of her groggy mind, fully overturning in her heart. "Where is he?"

The man shrugs, making his way over to a shelf seating multiple glass jars. "I don't know, but I reckon he's out in the field right now and teaching the others how to fight."

"Teaching who to fight?"

The man plucks a single orange leaf from a selected jar bottling a thriving plant, flourishing against its limited space. He then returns to Gaia. "Eat this. It's going to help your body tackle the fever and rebuild your immune system," he instructs. Gaia takes the outstretched leaf and sceptically opens her mouth, permitting the strange herb to graze her tongue. As soon as she bites down on its smooth texture, a displeased grimace strikes her face. "I know. It's sour. And to answer your question:the people of this village."

"Why?" Gaia asks through downturned lips, shielding her mouth so as to not spit the mysterious leaf out and restart the process. "Wait, how long have I been asleep for?"

"About a day."

"That's not so bad," Gaia consoles to herself, finally swallowing the terrible leaf with much effort. "Ugh!" Her hand clutches at the loose fabric clinging to her body. A raised eyebrow is sent the medic's way as she comes to acknowledge the dress in its entirety, moving a bit further away from him again. "Did you put this dress on me? Where's my armor?"

"It's been cleaned. There was a lot of mud on it and, yes, I did put you in that dress. You weren't able to breathe before and were constricted in your armor, as I told Mando."

Gaia cannot help but flush a meek purple at the revelation, which dusts her cheeks in a soft color of lavender. The thought of this man seeing her in nothing but her underwear brings an irked quiver with it, regardless of it having been necessary in order for her to distribute oxygen correctly and him only performing his job as an educated individual. The overall assistance was nice although the embarrassment of the situation overshadows much of Gaia's appreciation, and it worsens by the confusion of not knowing if Mando was present during it all and if he saw something.

Gaia is prepared to inquire of her thoughts until her mind backtracks, stilling in dread. "So, when you talked about that leaf I just ate, you said something about my immune system, right. . ? What did you mean by that?"

There is a significant delay to the man's reply. He appears conflicted unlike before, as if debating about what to say and how to tell it. "Well. . . there's not really an easy answer to your question but seeing as you are the patient, you also have a right to know." He squirms a bit under Gaia's cynic gaze. "To put it mildly, Sorgan was trying to eliminate you."

"Y-You mean. . .as in the planet?"

"Yes," the man affirms simply. "It would seem that Sorgan and your body were in a heavy disagreement as soon as you set foot on here. They don't match — not at first, anyway. Apparently your species aren't accustomed to, well, everything residing here on this particular planet. The reason for your illness is your immune system breaking down so quickly and your body succumbing to the microorganisms here — um, bacteria, if you will. Essentially, it could have killed you."

Gaia slumps in her position, eyes lowering in a state of shock. The man takes quick notice of it and guilt angrily swarms at him. "But, hey, it didn't because you fought through it."

". . ."

"Listen, you being alive right now — paired with the tests I've been running — means your body is now constantly and slowly adapting to Sorgan. Unfortunately, I don't know how long it will take since I'm not familiar with your people, but if I had to guess, I would say a few weeks. You're safe."

Gaia glimpses an encouraging smile from the man. His reassuring gesture is soothing and rendering her a bit happier. "Thank you. . ." She trails off, hoping he'll fill in the blank.

"Thero."

— Author's Note —

I told myself I wouldn't go and create a supporting character for this story.

I lied.