The war was over. He was safe. No one would ever be able to hurt him again.
That's what they told him anyway.
The Empire was defeated two years ago.
He was rescued two years ago.
He was safe from the surgeries they forced upon him, the drugs that left him a blissful mess, and the things they commanded him to do.
He still dreams about it every night.
Dreams about his Handler.
He was forced into therapy when they got him out. He was told he was a mess. He does not remember it very well anymore.
Does not want to remember.
The therapist had to patch his broken mind back together after all he had been through. Make sure that he was himself again rather than what he was before.
It helped him, he supposes. He knows how to act now. What to say. How to walk with the straight back in the way they wanted him to. How to talk with the deep gravely voice he hated hearing but needed to speak in. The voice which they told him was the correct way to talk.
It was still hard even after all this time. He had to make the effort constantly. When he stopped acting the way he was supposed to people around him got uncomfortable. So he always had to. It was exhausting.
It was only recently his therapist judged him recovered enough to know that he was not quite as safe as they told him. They told him his Handler was still out there. They did not catch Her in the purge. She escaped.
They apologized for hiding it from him. Told him they knew he could handle it and that he would always man up and take whatever came his way. They told him it was policy.
His two closest friends had sworn to find Her and avenge him. Told him exactly what they would do to Her when they got their hands on her.
He did not tell them he did not want that.
The therapist told him that a man should want revenge against those that hurt him.
The two were always talking about what he was like before he was captured. They brought up stories of the battles they fought, beers they drunk, and girls they fucked.
He always laughed with them at the stories even though he could not remember them very much and did not find the stories very funny. It was all murky like a distant dream. He laughed because that is what the therapist told him he was supposed to do. A man should enjoy those things so he should enjoy those things.
A week ago one of his friends told him that he had found Her. She was on a small world at the edge of the galaxy. He had been tracking rumors all this time looking for her so that all three of them could take revenge. That the three of them should go and punish her themselves.
He said okay because that is what a man was supposed to do.
So here he was. Ten miles out from the nearest town. Waiting outside Her house. The ground was covered in a thick layer of snow. His breath was a fog in the night air.
His friends were with him. They told him they should go at night when she was asleep and unprepared.
He did not tell them She was always a night owl.
They walked around the house checking it. No back doors which they said was good. Big enough windows to fit through. They said that was bad. They discussed it and said that even if she ran the cold would get her and the snow would mean they could track her.
His friends broke down the door and they all entered the house.
She was sitting there in front of the fire wearing only a robe. The chair she was on was large and plush. She was holding a book, reading, not even paying the slightest attention to them.
She was mostly as he remembered. Her black hair glinted in the firelight. Her eyes still shone that cold blue but where they once were crystal clear now they were foggy and dull.
His two friends threatened her. Cursed her for her actions. Told her they were going to ruin her then take her to prison to rot.
She looked at them. Bored glazed eyes clearly uninterested and uncaring until they looked past his two friends and landed on him.
Her eyes lit up. The fog cleared from them and she spoke.
“What have they done to you puppy?”
Her voice was drenched in concern and pain. It seemed to weigh her down like She was under a thousand feet of water and could not take a breath. It was an agonizing thing full of hurt and pity and shame.
His two friends talked about how they helped him. How he went to therapy. How they saved him. How they rescued him from what She did.
She asks in that voice that was as strong as steel to those that did not understand her while any who could look past the surface saw the fragility in Her voice.
His friends are walking to Her now.
She looked past his friends as they reached out and grabbed Her arms. Staring directly into his eyes, analyzing.
She rested her head on her handler's lap staring up at those clear blue eyes content to soak in the heat from the roaring fire.
She was sucking on a mint Handler gave her after she complained about the coppery taste that still stuck in her mouth even after Handler washed it out with water.
She felt Handler run her fingers through her hair, still wet from the warm bath needed to clean off the blood. She hoped it would grow long quickly. She hated that it was so short.
Handler had apologized for not being able to grab her when she ran. She said she looked for the hound but could not find her. She did manage to grab her collar on Her way out. It was now in its proper place, wrapped around her neck.
It did not matter that she left. They were together now. That's all that mattered.
Handler said that they would have to dig two big holes tomorrow. That tomorrow was going to be a long exhausting day.
She did not mind. It might be hard work but if Handler needed it done she would do it.
Handler said that after the digging they would go to town and get her medicine. She could not wait. She missed her medicine.
But until they needed to get up and do that she was happy here, with her head on Handler's lap.
She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.
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