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“Dar?” Etain asked, eyes defocused, voice almost too soft to be heard.
Fi felt himself choke. How was he going to tell her?
He understood now, how Ordo had come to pity her, even after Triple Zero. Whatever had been done to him, Fi had always had his brothers. Etain was the squad’s friend, or had tried to be. But she had never had that certainty. All she had was Dar, and maybe Kal’buir. Everything else, she’d given up for them.
Kad didn’t count. He was still just a baby.
Fi swallowed and tried his best, because suddenly it wasn’t just about his obligation to his brother’s wife. It was about a woman who had tried to be a friend to him, and who must have been incredibly lonely. He squeezed her shoulder gently, remembering those first few moments waking up in a med-bay, disoriented and alone.
“Hey, vod’ika. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
She didn’t respond, or give any sign that she even knew he was there. Her eyes rested on his face, but she had the large pupils and frightened expression of a disoriented bacta patient.
“Darman?” she asked again.
Fi was pretty sure she hadn’t confused him for his brother. She could always tell them apart with the Force, right from day one. Dar said she had reached out to him across star systems. Was that what she was doing right now? Or was she just scared and asking for the one person she trusted to take care of her?
“It’s okay, Etain,” he says again, just in case. “You’re safe, ner vod. We have you.”
But she was already slumping back onto the pillows, drifting off into the restless sleep of the heavily medicated.
Fi kept watch anyway, wishing Darman was there instead, and for the first time allowing himself to wonder exactly how many of Etain’s childhood friends had gone up with the Temple flames.