1A/N: Another instalment! This one's a bit more graphic that the others. I tried to leave the ending open to interpretation as K/J friendship or romance, whichever you prefer.
Concrit is very much appreciated. It's always nice to know what reader think, even if it's a simple "cool" or "you suck at writing". Love it, hate it... I've got thick skin.
Part 3: We share the same skies…
Jaina stripped off her protective jumpsuit, wincing as damp air slammed against sweat-soaked skin. Two short steps to the left, her suit joined the growing pile near the door. Four steps to the right, and she was already halfway to her assigned bunk. Five steps. Six. Seven. Almost there.
A hand on her shoulder pulled her back. She was manoeuvred into the corner of the room, where the fading ceiling lights couldn't reach.
A hand slipped under her thin shirt. Fingers travelled up her torso and came to rest over her heart. Callused fingertips traced the raw skin with surprising elegance, Jaina's assailant quietly marvelled at the result of many similar encounters over the past five months. The hand quickly turned violent; an unnaturally sharp fingernail dug into the edge of the intricate design and lengthened the cut.
Jaina let her head rest against the wall, and let her eyes drift close. Pain was nothing new. Pain was starting to become comfortable.
"Doesn't hurt as much as it did at first, huh kid?" The voice was soft and low. "What, you're not gonna talk ta me? You had plenty ta say at the start."
Jaina winced as she remembered the beginning of this ritual, the bruises and broken bones that had yet to completely heal.
"Don't matter. This beaut' speaks for itself." He made one more precise cut, and then used the shirt to mop up some of the blood. "And what'll it say?"
"That I belong to you."
"That's right, kid." He tousled her hair and left her leaning against the wall for support.
Jaina was finally released from the nightmare. She unwound herself from the bedclothes carefully. The sudden knock at the door startled her, even causing her hands to shake for several seconds before she reminded herself that it was just a dream. And it wasn't even her dream. She shouldn't have to deal with it. It shouldn't be her problem, too.
But now it was.
She opened the door for Kyp, not bothering to turn her bedroom lights on before they sat next to each other on the edge of the mattress.
He spoke first.
"I can take it, if you want me to. Your memory of it, I mean. I can take away the last hour, and you would never remember, unless it happened again, but I'm sure I can talk to Luke about this . . . problem. We could work on weakening our bond, and it won't happen again."
He waited for her to say something, to agree to the memory-wipe, to want to go back to the way that it was before.
She didn't say anything. She stood up slowly, turned to face him, and cautiously began to take off his sleep shirt. She needed proof that it was real, that he had actually been through what she had experienced in their shared dream. The scars were bright red against pale skin, the crude cuts a permanent reminder of Kessel.
Eventually they both slept without dreaming.