Trigger warning: blood

A sharp pain struck Luke through the Force as he sat in his X-wing fighter. 'Luma!  He reached out through his bond, unable to reach his wife. Panic shot through his core. Panic and frustration. Hyperspace always interfered with their bond.

He sat back in the acceleration seat of his X-wing, gritting his teeth in impatience. The blue planes of hyperspace raced around him beyond the canopy. He inhaled deeply, pulling himself into a cleansing meditation, the only thing that could keep him at peace for the remaining hour.

Luke transitioned out of hyperspace above Khalkha. Naluma! His breathing increased when he received no answer. He felt pain, weakness. Her Force-signature had faded. It was barely perceptible.

He landed the X-wing with a rough thump as close to the academy as he dared. He hopped down from the cockpit of his X-wing and ran into the lodge, not halting to change out of his orange flightsuit.

Geryl and Naahah intercepted him as he entered the main doors. "Master Luke! Come quickly." Geryl grabbed him by the hand and dragged him through the corridors to his suite.

"What's wrong with Master Fau?"

"We're not sure. She collapsed during saber this afternoon. We took her to her quarters, and then she sent us away. And now the hatch is on voice command only, and she's not responding." Naahah sniffed a tear away as her voice cracked.

Luke broke past them and ran to the suite. He yelled the password from halfway down the corridor. "Master Luke Skywalker. Open." The hatch slid open.

He thudded to a halt inside the main hatch.

The room smelled metallic.

The blood-soaked bed stood empty.

He followed the trail of blood and Naluma's waning life-force to the refresher.

When he rushed into the refresher unit, he found his wife unconscious on the floor.

Luke knelt and turned her over. Blood coated his hands and stained the tiles.

I thought we were past this. I wouldn't have left had I known she was struggling again. He turned to the Padawan around him. She's lost too much blood. I need the packs.

"Naahah, run to the medbay. Grab me two units of her blood from storage and two catheters. Geryl, get the advanced medkit. Run!" Luke said as he removed her uniform shirt, looking for wounds but finding none.

When Geryl returned with the medkit, Luke cut away Naluma's trousers to search for the source of the blood loss. He gasped. Internal hemorrhaging. He sat back on his heels in shock, running through his Advanced Field Medicine training. It never covered anything like this. Oh, 'Luma, I don't know how to fix this.

Naahah arrived out of breath with the blood packs. Luke found the correct vessel and attached the first pack to her left arm. He attached the second pack to her right arm. Naluma, I take back every word I said about the added expense and equipment for blood banking.

He looked around the room, piecing together an action plan. He took another cleansing breath, focusing his thoughts.

He turned to the Padawan. "I need the stretcher and some clean sheets. Go now."

He reached out with the Force, flipping the switches in the shuttle cockpit to warm it up. He grabbed the towels from the racks and positioned them under his wife to absorb the seeping blood.

The girls arrived a few minutes later. After transferring Naluma to the stretcher, Luke covered her with a sheet and a blanket. Naahah grabbed one end of the stretcher, while Luke maintained the other.

As they moved down the passageway, he fed his life-force to his wife. I just hope it's enough.

He jerked his head when he realized he wouldn't be able to fly while supporting her with the Force. These two haven't passed flight training yet. "Geryl, go find me a pilot."

Luke looked around, trying to think while his world crashed around him. A few more Padawan had gathered around. "And, one of you, get me two more units of blood."

As he settled Naluma onto the main deck, Geryl returned with senior Padawan Pilar Iyochozu. Luke breathed a sigh of relief. While abysmal at the martial arts, he knew this was the best pilot among the Padawan. She could even out-fly Jedi Tandolleau.

Master Skywalker said, "Fastest speed to Koda Station."

She took one look at Master Fau and ran to the cockpit. As soon as Padawan Fraynal arrived with the blood packs, Pilar launched the shuttle into space. Rerouting all power to the hyperdrive, she thrusted the craft into hyperspace.

Two hours to Koda Station.

Two hours. 

The two hours dragged, each minute seemingly taking twice as long. Each minute more blood seeped from Naluma. All the towels were soaked. The drained units of blood lay discarded on the deck. Naluma's ashen face matched her weak pulse and blood pressure.

Master Luke remained silent, his normal Jedi peace shattered. He wavered with fatigue as he poured his own life-force into his wife. I'm not going to let you die.

Geryl laid her hand next to Master Luke's. "Take it. You don't have much left, Master Luke. Take mine."

Naahah added her hand to the other side. "Take mine, too."

"Thank you." He bit his lip to keep the tears back as he pulled energy from the Padawan and passed it through his depleted body to Naluma. A few more minutes was all they needed. Just a few more minutes.

Luke focused only on the Force, pushing away the panic, pushing away the fear, pushing away the darkness.

The Padawan looked on, waiting for his next instruction, their own color waning as their life-forces were passed through to Master Fau.

Pilar announced over the intercom, "Secure for emergency landing."

The Padawan took the shuttle in at the fastest speed she dared. She maintained a level angle as they broke through the artificial atmosphere of the space station.

Two med techs and a small doctor met them on the pad. They hurried aboard, pushing Luke and the Padawan out of the way. The doctor injected three hyposprays of blood expanders. No sooner had they attached new blood packs, then the med techs carried Naluma, stretcher and all, to the waiting hover stretcher.

"Quickly! Quickly!" the olive-green Klatooinian doctor ordered, jogging behind the stretcher.

Luke and the Padawan followed after, moving as fast as they could in their weakened states.

The quartet of Jedi collapsed in the uninviting, sterile lounge. White plascrete walls and hard seats did little to assuage their apprehension.

The hours crept by at an agonizingly torpid pace. Luke only knew that Naluma was still alive. Her life-force, though weak, still communed with his.

He leaned back against the wall, sighing in relief, a million questions bombarding him. He breathed deeply, reaching out to the Force, looking for the peace that eluded him.

"Which of you were there when she collapsed?"

Naahah answered, "Geryl and I, Master. She was sparring with Ben when it happened."

"Yeah, she was really laying into him about his sloppy footwork and Force-work," Geryl said.

"What else?"

"Ben yelled, Master. He was angry," Naahah said as she clutched her hands. "But what else happened, I'm not sure. We were all sparring in pairs at the time. I'm sorry."

Luke nodded. "It's okay. Thank you ... for everything."

His head pounded.

His stomach churned.

Peace evaded him.

After a few more hours—hours that required Luke to forcefully contain himself with relaxation techniques—Dr. Joloah approached the troubled group. "Master Skywalker, may I speak with you in private?"

Luke jumped at his name, pulling himself out of his reverie. His headache resumed at once. His limbs trembled with fatigue. And his heart beat with fear a Jedi was never supposed to feel.

The Klatooinian doctor's green face wrinkled with compassion. Luke had seen this species one time earlier, when he had battled for his freedom from Jabba the Hutt.

The Jedi Master followed him into a corridor behind the waiting room door. "Doctor, how is she?" He bit his lip to hold back his emotions.

"Not good," the doctor replied with a muddy accent. He shook his head and sighed.

Luke felt compassion radiating from the small humanoid. "What's wrong with her?"

"Spontaneous abortion ... how do you call it ...  a miscarriage," Dr. Joloah said in a low voice.

Luke gasped, falling against the wall. He clutched at his brow. I didn't not even know she was pregnant. Wonder if she knew. How did I miss that? Oh, 'Luma!

He wiped the tears from his eyes, reigning his thoughts to the present. Remembering his field medicine training, he asked, "Doctor, that bleeding wasn't normal. What aren't you telling me?"

"This is the strangest case I have ever experienced. Master Fau has no sign of injury to her abdomen or back, and yet the fetus was crushed," the doctor said.

Something must have happened during sparring—she bent the wrong way, strained too far forward or backward. Tears fell down Luke's face. I should have been there. "How far along was she?"

"Eight or nine weeks."

"May I see her?"

"As long as you don't disturb her. She's resting."

The doctor led him down the linoleum-lined corridor to a private chamber in the ICU. 

As Luke entered the room, IVs and blood units dripped steadily. The sanitized odor of all med centers permeated the air. She lay there, seemingly lifeless—pale, vulnerable, and unconscious.

But he could feel her life-force. She's alive.

Luke moved to her side. Grabbing her hand softly, he kissed her forehead. 'Luma, I'm here for you. Don't give up. Please. I love you.

He was barely aware of a med tech dragging a chair over to the bed for him. Luke held her hand for hours, feeding her his renewed life-force.

A few hours into Luke's vigil, Pilar's thoughts interrupted him. Master Luke. How is she?

Not good. Thanks for everything. Head back to the shuttle. I'll stay here until we know something more.

Yes, Master. 

Almost a day later, Naluma regained consciousness. She was first aware of Luke's presence. He was asleep but holding her hand.

Her mouth was parched, and so many parts on the inside of her body hurt. Her head pounded. Breathing took energy she did not think she had. Her back cramped. But, most of all, deep inside her ached—ached with emptiness and trauma.

Luke.

He awoke with a jump. "'Luma." He kissed her cheek with relief, tears streaming down his face. "I thought I'd lost you."

Alone, I need to be alone. Can't breathe. Suffocating. Can't he feel it? Her breaths came in short spurts.

She looked around. Any excuse. Any reason to get him away. She asked in his mind, not trusting her mouth to form the words, Can you get me some water? My throat's parched.

Naluma breathed in relief as he ambled off. When he returned, she sipped the water carefully. And then the tears streamed down her face.

He tried to hold her, but she pushed him away.

"Go away." She clenched her teeth.

"We'll get through this together, Naluma."

"I don't want to get through this together, Luke. This isn't a together thing. You didn't have your daughter ripped out of your body. You have no idea what I'm going through," she screamed at him. "Just go away."

He stared at her unbelief.

"Go away!"

He inched toward her.

She levitated the chair at him, throwing it at his head with as much strength as she could muster in the Force.

He caught it with ease. "Lower your shields, Naluma. Now."

She dropped them and allowed her grief and rage at Ben to overwhelm them both.

He staggered under the weight of it but bore into her soul.

She answered the unspoken question. "I'm not going to kill myself, Luke. But, please, just leave. I need to be alone right now."

He staggered toward her with his arm outstretched, but she shook her head.

She slammed her shields down and collapsed in racking sobs. She mourned for the daughter they had lost. She had lost her Hope—and all hope.

He turned to her one last time. If I go, you know what I'll have to do.

I don't care. Sedate me if you have to, but just go. No Force-vision can be worse than this.

As Luke left the chamber, he headed to the med tech station. He dreaded what he had to do, but he also dreaded leaving Ben at the academy with a green Jedi Knight any longer than absolutely necessary.

Med tech Budi looked up from her charts and asked, "May I help you, Master Skywalker?"

"Yes, please. My wife's awake."

"We're monitoring her. Her vitals are improving."

"Thank you," he said with a grim face. "May I speak with you in private?"

"Of course." Med tech Budi led him to a small office to the side of the station and closed the door. "Yes?"

He deliberated for a few moments more. Then he remembered the last time Naluma was here. The safety of the entire station is at stake. She can take them all out before anyone would know what is going on. 

"I need to order a watch on Master Fau."

"We are observing her."

"No, I mean psychiatric. I need a suicide watch. There is a history."

"That would mean confinement or sedation. Are you sure this is necessary?"

"You can try to confine her, but I doubt it will work. She can break out of anything. You'll have to sedate her." He had no other choice.

"For how long?"

"Five or six hours."

"Very well." Budi marked a few things on the chart. "Let us know when you return." 

Did you know . . . 

● Pilar is the Padawan who struggled with saber fighting and firearms, but no one at the academy can beat her in the pilot's seat. And because of this incident, she devotes her future studies to Force-healing. (Backstory that comes forth in Turning Point.)

Tell me what you think . . .

● Did Naluma know she was pregnant?

● Was Luke right in sedating Naluma? Why or why not?