"Will someone help me with this patient, here?!" Ton called across the busy medbay.

A young doctor, by the name of Amanda Anreson, pushed her way across the room toward him.

Dr. Amanda Anreson had graduated from the Surgeons Academy at the University of Rudrig at the age of nineteen, and promptly joined the Rebel Alliance against the Empire that had torn apart her homeworld of Ralltiir.

"What's the problem, Doctor?" she asked as she made her way to his side.

"I'm allergic to bacta, that's the problem. Change that bandage so they can put him back in the tank."

"A please might be nice," she remarked as she began to do so.

"You're welcome," he told her as he walked away.

She turned to look at him once the patient was safely floating, and chuckled. "Pleased to meet you too."

*

"I don't care if he's dragging a Rancor head, the man needs medical attention, and I intend on giving it - NOW!" Anreson pushed her way through the crowd and security in the starfighter bay and quickly climbed up toward the ball of the TIE's cockpit. Inside, a young man, barely out of his teens, sat slumped backward, his helmet cracked.

Gently she pulled it off and checked his life signs. Then she saw the data-disc he had clutched in his hand. She pried his fingers loose and tossed it down to one of the guards. "Take a look at that," she snapped as she worked to get the pilot loose. Once the straps were undone, she pulled out her comlink. "I want a repulsor bed to starfighter bay 5729, Stat!" She barked into it before putting it back in her pocket, and pulling out a small torch to light in his eyes.

"Slight concussion, good responses. . ." she mumbled to herself as she saw the irises dialate and contract in reaction to the light. There was a cut on his forehead from where the helmet had cracked, and now dry blood lay in a trail down his cheek. She continued her look over, "No broken bones, that's good, have to check for internal bleeding. . . ."

"Are you in the habit of talking to yourself, doctor?" A male voice called from the floor beneath her.

"It's the most intelligent company I keep," she snapped back, pulling away to see who was talking to her. It was the doctor from the other day, the one allergic to bacta. "You have that bed?"

"Yeah, I have your bed. What do you want to help that Empire-loving son of a sith, for?"

"Cause he's not Empire loving," stated a voice behind him. Ton turned to see a young security guard holding a disc as though it had the prescription for eternal life encoded in it. He called up to Anreson, "You were right to do something, he brought us some information from the bothan spy network. Try to save him, we'll need to speak with him later." With that, he turned and left.

Ton raised an eyebrow in amusement, "Well look at that," he grumbled as he went to climb a second ladder that had been put up against the TIE fighter.

Together, they pulled the pilot out and Ton carried him down to lay on the repulsor bed. With few words, they brought him to the sickbay.

*

Thus began a beautiful friendship, which, in the following months, grew into something more than either would ever have thought at their first meetings. They saw eachother every day, shared meals together - and if anyone ever commented to Ton badly about his spending time with someone eight years his junior, he promptly told them that, "The intellect of that young woman far superseeds your own, so come off it."

Life day was a special day. The medical corp had a party that lasted the whole day, people coming and going as shifts ended and began. Ton proposed to Amanda that evening, with a ring that had belonged to his mother - A simple jade band, bearing the Phanan crest. "Marry me, Manda. Soon as the war ends, or at least calms down somewhat," he asked her. She readily accepted, throwing her arms around his neck and favouring him with a sweet kiss. Nobody missed them when they dissapeared to his quarters.

Less than a week later, the Battle of Endor was enjoined. The medical frigate they were stationed on received heavy bombardment. Yet, through it all, the teams worked on the wounded. Dr. Anreson was called into another room to help with a particularly rough case, and just as she was about to re-enter her ward, there was an explosion.

Half the ceiling fell, and she stopped in horror.

The battle soon ended, and with the help of other, more experienced, surgeons, Amanda worked to save Ton's life. The left side of his skull, his left arm, and his leftleg, all had been crushed when the ceiling fell.

Every day, during his recovery, she went to visit him, spend time with him. Hoping that he would wake up. Two weeks later, he finally did so. It broke her heart to watch the tears falling down the right side of his face as he realised what had happened.

Now, the time she spent with him, he always had his face turned away from her. They barely spoke, but she still stayed by his side, holding his hand between her own during his recovery.

On the day scheduled for his release, he was not there when she came at the usual time. She looked to see a note on flimsy laying on his pillow. She moved forward and picked it up to read it.

The decision I've reached is the sort that a lot of thought has gone into. I assure you, it wasn't easy to make.

I believe it would be best for us if we did not see each other again. It's not anything you've done, Love, but something in me has died and I'm not the man I was. I can see no future for myself, and I have no right to ask you to stay with someone like me... someone who is only half organic. You're young, you're beautiful, and you won't have any trouble finding a match for yourself. You'll move on and you'll do fine, you're strong like that.

You deserve a beautiful life, 'Manda, and you deserve better than me. I care too much about you to impede your chances at happiness.

I probably flatter myself to think that you even care whether I go or not - you'll probably be glad to be rid of me. I hope not though, because I will always remember you fondly.

Because of Love,

Ton

Amanda lay there, her eyes open, the tears soon gone. But she would not respond to anyone, or anything. Another doctor gave her a sedative, and soon she was wrapped in the blessed arms of sleep.

*

She never saw him again. Every week, she wrote him a letter, and sent it to the main offices, hoping it would reach him. She hoped he would return, yet as each month went by without word, that hope died more. She became a walking mask, acting like nothing was wrong, living with a false smile and deceptive laughter. But she was only that, and nothing more. Inside, she was already dead, simply waiting for her body to catch up.

*******