Before - Legends Before the Saga Where the Light Fails | OC Spring Challenge '25 | Kit'verse

TItle: Where the Light Fails
Author: Kit'
Character: Kithera Rinani, Healer Leona, Qui-Gon Jinn, Tara Tarindae
Timeframe: Pre-TPM
Genre: Angst, Hurt (no comfort), More Angst,
Challenge: OC Spring Challenge '25 - Missing Scene
Author's note: This is the scene that takes place right after The Slap that happens in How it Ends (If you want to know what happens before this scene starts then don't worry, it's only one chapter to read)

 

Where the light fails

*~*~*~*

“I killed her. I’m sorry. I killed her.”

Leona squatted down next to Kithera, wincing at the red mark that was already spreading across the young woman’s cheek. The Force coloured with deep burgundy and mustard hues. She knew that if she had to she could pick Mace’s retreat through the Temple, the deeper wine purple of his signature leaving a bruise in the Force. Ish-te and Jedi voices rose with the need to fill the silence that the slap had left in its wake, but Leona ignored them, blocking out the noise and the tumult of colours and trying to focus on the sobbing girl in front of her.

“Let’s go get you looked at,” Leona said gently.

Kithera looked up and the expression on her face made Leona wonder if the girl had heard her at all. The mask was returning, her hollow, bruise-rimmed eyes stared vacantly over Leona’s shoulder as if she was somewhere else entirely.

“I just needed to keep them safe. I promised. I made so many promises and I…I…” Kithera mumbled. She rose, wobbling slightly, for a moment before collapsing back onto the ground. “I failed. I always fail.”

“Enough,” Leona whispered. She stood and motioned to one of the other healers. “I need you to take over, while I take Kithera down to the healer’s ward.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the Temple guard?” Qui-Gon interjected. “She just confessed to murdering her Master.”

Leona frowned. “No, she said she killed her, there is a difference.”

“We should still wait for the Temple guard,” Qui-Gon protested.

“You can wait,” Leona said. “I have a patient that needs care.” She looked up at Qui-Gon, seeing the distress on the man’s face. Her shoulders dropped. Reaching one hand out, she squeezed his arm gently. “I know Namia’s loss hurts, but Kithera is alive. She’ll lose that hand if we don’t tend to it, and I need to know where that blood is coming from.”

Leona could hear the murmurs from the Jedi and the Ish-te. The Force swirled with colours of anger, suspicion and concern. She knew the rumours would already be spreading through the Temple. As soon as the Council and Temple Guard were made aware, the questions would come and any action she could take would be severely curtailed. Right now, there was only this moment, and the broken girl crumpled at her feet.

She turned back to Kithera, gently raising her up as if afraid she would shatter with the wrong touch. “Come on,” she murmured, voice soft and firm. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe.”

Kithera didn’t answer, but she didn’t resist either. She staggered to her feet, seemingly not feeling the pain from her hand or her side. Leona winced as she caught sight of the broken swollen fingers,and wondered how fast she could get Dr. Argen Vulpax from Coruscant General to consult.

Then there was movement beside her.

Leona turned slightly, surprised to see Qui-Gon stepping forward. His brow was furrowed, jaw tight, but there was a shift in his presence — the raw grief still there, but tempered now by understanding. She noticed that he’d given the now quiet baby to one of the younger healers.

“I’ll help you,” he said, his voice low. “You’re right. We do not know what happened on Ovira, and any decision without all the facts is foolish.”

Between them, they lifted Kithera, her weight far too light, her head lolling briefly against Qui-Gon’s shoulder as they moved her into a waiting hoverchair. Her skin was clammy, her lips pale, and Leona could see through the Force the trailing lines of embers that signified injury.

There were so many.

The crowd of refugees and Jedi parted in front of them like a wave. From the Ish-te Leona could see nothing but worry and concern, but from the Jedi there was only suspicion, grief, and confusion.

As they made their way through the Temple, Leona braced herself for the inevitable comms call, or the arrival of the Temple Guard. As they drew nearer to the healing halls, the smell of bacta and the soft low lights made her relax her shoulders and take a deep steadying breath.

It was a moment too soon. They were almost at the threshold when Leona felt the Force shift; subtle but unmistakable.

Tara Tarindae.

The tans and creams had been replaced by greys. Tara, in her official capacity as a Shadow, stood in the centre of the corridor, head held high. Her presence burned bright and cold in the ever-moving colours.

“Tara,” Qui-Gon, ever the peace-maker, stepped forward. “We need to get to the healing wing.”

Tara didn’t move. “I need to speak to Rinani, I will be brief.” Almost ice-cold, but the flicker of emotion and grief underneath belied her words.

All three of them looked towards where Kithera Rinani, confessed murderer of her own master, or saviour of a people, depending on who you believed, sat on a hoverchair. The young woman made no indication that she had heard her name, staring vacantly into middle-distance. She didn’t even move. Usually Kithera’s energy could power parts of the Temple, but now the perpetual motion machine had stopped in its tracks. The behaviour terrified Leona.

“You can talk to her after we assess her injuries,” Leona said, her voice calmer than she felt.

“She is a potential threat to the Temple.” Tara’s hand moved, resting on the hilt of her lightsaber - an almost threat.

“She is a threat to no-one.” The gesture Leona made encompassed the entirety of Kithera - the bloody clothes, the blaster burns, the bent and mangled fingers, the preternatural stillness. “Not in a Temple full of Jedi.”

“She said she killed Namia,” Tara said, her voice clipped and short. “Unprovoked. In front of witnesses. She repeated it several times, unprompted.”

“She is traumatized,”Leona retorted. “That much was clear in the Force. Anything she says now is without context. Considering that Namia’s mission is, once again, a surprise, and that the healer’s wing is filled with hurt refugees, I think it’s

“She confessed to her own Master’s murder.” Tara’s voice was cold and hard. “She must answer to the Temple Guard and the Shadows. We need a statement, and any evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“The clothes, the jewellery,” Tara said, “anything that can tell us what happened.”

“And you’ll get it,” Qui-Gon said, gently. “I’ll make sure of it, Tara. Straight after Leona has looked at her.”

“We need it now.”

Leona shook her head. “You’ll get it, when you get it. Namia won’t become alive again, just because you demand it.”

The air around Tara crystallised. “She must answer-“

Leona had had enough.

“Start thinking with your brain, Tarindae.” Leona spat the words, a barrage of rapid fire frustration. “You and Mace are trying to act righteously when all you’re doing is reacting to your own pain. Who do you think hurts more? You? Mace? One of Namia’s other lovers? Because in that case you’ll have to get in line - Namia had no shortage of those? Or, do you think, just for a moment, that it might be her padawan?” She pushed the chair forward, gently. Tara stood, unmoving. “This is my healing hall. Down here, the only people I answer to are my patients, the Force, and the Council - in that order.” Her tone could have melted durasteel. “I don’t answer to you. So until you get someone with actual authority down here, we’re going. You can speak to her when I deem fit, and not before.”

Breathing out through pursed lips, Leona raised a hand. Everyone could feel the Force stir as she called on it.

“Get out of my way.” The words were quiet and gentle, but held more menace than a lit lightsaber. The scars on her face puckered as Tara, narrowing her sightless eyes, stepped out of the way.

“It’s not over,” she said as Leona wheeled Kithera past.

“I didn’t expect it would be,” Leona said, pausing slightly. “I look forward to a contingent of Shadows and Temple guards outside the operating room doors within the hour. Outside though. Inside is my domain and you are not welcome there.”

Without another word, she pushed Kithera into the waiting room, leaving an angry Tara and a bewildered Qui-Gon behind her. The moment the door snicked close behind her, Leona sagged. She didn’t like the conflict, and it seemed that Namia in death was causing just as much as when she’d been alive.

 

Healer Leona is dominant as she should be with Kithera needing care.