Here I fixed it y’all:
Paz lay face down on the ground for a long time, wondering if he was doomed to die by suffocation by his own damn jet pack. The sharp pain had long since faded to a dull ache. Just as he felt like he was ready to help move things along, he heard voices.
Voices speaking Mando’a. He heard a gasp.
“ - Nevarro al’verde,” a woman’s voice said.
Someone knelt next to him and pulled his cowl down. Then two ice-cold fingers found his pulse. His body twitched involuntarily.
“He’s alive!” she called out.
A leather bag thudded onto the ground in front of him. He recognized the concentrated bacta. A black gloved hand started withdrawing vials and inserting them into a hypo spray.
“Watch the perimeter,” she said. “I’ll get him stable enough to move. Then we can treat him aboard one of the ships.”
A man’s voice answered in the affirmative as the woman worked. Paz felt the first injection. It burned worse than his stab wounds and he gasped involuntarily.
“It’s alright, al’verde,” the woman’s voice said soothingly. “You’ll have to reschedule your trip to the Manda for another day.”
A couple more injections. His skin sizzled as it was forcefully healed and cauterized from the inside out. Even though the concentrated bacta numbed the pain from his wounds, it didn’t numb the pain of it coursing through him. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes and groaned. It was literally frying the nerves at the surface to make it so he could function.
“It’ll burn for a little longer,” the woman said in that same gentle tone. “Just breathe and we’ll have you home in no time.”
He flinched when he heard the sound of tape being ripped off the roll. It didn’t sound like medical tape. It actually sounded like the tape he used to hold his ship together. Fuck, this shit was going to hurt worse coming back off.
The woman’s hands shook as she pinched his wounds shut and applied the tape to the still open wounds. At least he was no longer bleeding, and he would be stable until they could get him to an actual doctor. She wrapped around the tape tightly to keep it from coming back off.
“You’ll be home soon,” she repeated, though he suspected that she was saying it more to herself than him. “You’ll get to see your boy again. What’s his name?”
He slurred Ragnar’s name through his dry, chapped lips. It was unintelligible, but she made the appropriate noises of understanding.
“I saw him practicing with some of the other little ones,” she said. “He will be a fine warrior one day.”
He grunted in agreement.
She stabbed him again with even more bacta. This time, it itched. Terribly. It felt like his muscles itched on the inside and his fingers twitched. But at least the pain disappeared completely, leaving him woozy and light-headed. She had given him something really good for the pain.
“We haven’t got much time,” the woman said, “We have to get out of here. We are going to carry you out, but we are going to need to leave your jet pack and weapon behind, alright?”
He was ecstatic that he had been found. The thought of seeing his son again made tears pool up in his eyes. They fell against the inside of his bucket as the woman removed his jet pack.
Then they turned him over. The two Nite Owls then heaved him up. Paz grunted as the tape pulled, but it thankfully held. He swayed as the ground rocked under his unsteady feet. Two pairs of arms wrapped around him as they hurried down the hallways. He was delirious but soon he could smell fresh air. Freedom. Sunlight. He turned to look at the one who had saved his life.
Pretty. She was so pretty. Just as she was reaching to out her bucket back on, he spoke, his common sense long gone out the window from the pain killers.
“Hi,” he said giddily. “I’m Paz.”
She gave him a quirk of her lips before putting her helmet on.
“Hi, Paz,” she responded. “Hold on tight.”
He squeezed around their torsos, making them grunt. Oops.
“You’re really pretty,” he said, and the man to his side laughed. The woman sighed and shook her head.
“Let’s get you home so you can sleep this off,” she said. Paz giggled as they activated their jet packs and his stomach lurched.
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It’s Christmas time after the Great Secret Trial where Barok van Zieks was acquitted and he found out the truth.
For the first time since the deaths in his family ten years ago, Barok buys a Christmas goose and writes letters inviting his friends and acquaintances to his table.
He expects no one to show up. But they all show up.
Albert Harebrayne, Gina Lestrade (with Toby), Maria Gorey, Herlock Sholmes, Iris Wilson and even Kazuma Asogi (who isn’t Christian but doesn’t mind the company on a winter evening) come in and make themselves at home.
The dinner means a lot of things to Barok. It’s a way to thank everyone who helped him in his trial. It’s a way to further reconcile with Kazuma, and get closer to Iris (who will eventually find out they’re family.) It’s also a way for him to catch up with Albert, who he’s wanted to see face-to-face (and out of court) for far too long.
After dinner there is music, dancing, merriment and conversation, reminding Barok of brighter times when his brother and sister-in-law were still alive. Iris playfully invites him to dance and he accepts. He doesn’t remember the last time he danced, but it just feels right, even if his steps aren’t perfect because he hasn’t practiced for so long.
When the night grows older, Barok’s guests depart little by little, until only Albert and Kazuma remain. Barok decides to step out, and they go with him.
On the way to the family cemetery, Barok takes two sprigs of holly from one of the bushes nearby. He places one on Klint’s grave, and another on Lady Baskerville’s.
After saying a few words, Barok heads back home and tells Kazuma and Albert they’re free to stay or go as they please.
They both decide to stay the night.
Before he goes to bed, Barok recounts the day in his diary, and how strange (but wonderful) it feels not to be alone anymore.
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