And still he didn't wake.
Sometimes, unsettlingly, he would lay for long periods of time with his eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling, blinking with exaggerated slowness. This was the most disquieting thing of all to Mara, who didn't know that coma victims did such things, unsettled by the impassive, unaffected stillness behind those blank eyes.
His right eye remained swollen half-closed, the deep slice which ran the length of his face having taken a gouge from his lid and rendered the eye - barely visible beneath the swelling - completely red, both white and iris infused with blood. Hallin would enter often, talking and bustling about as he checked IV's and performed hourly tests without fail, explaining his actions, warning when something would hurt, looking for a reaction, always acting as if Luke were awake and aware.
But he wasn't.
Mara knew she should stand on guard outside the room, but couldn't bring herself to leave him alone to stare in blank silence at nothing. Couldn't bring herself to think that he may remain in this state as the days came and went... and he did.
All the while her master's accusations rang in her head- that she had failed. Both her master and Skywalker. And for the first time she began to wonder... which bothered her most?
.
Days came and went. Five, then six, then seven...and Hallin began to worry that maybe he wasn't quite so good.
He knocked politely and leaned in through the door to look at Mara. "How's he doing?"
"Oh, he flashed the little blue light at me a few times." she said dryly, glancing up at the readouts behind her, "I think he was just showing off."
"That's good- blue is good." Hallin said, smiling slightly before stepping back out of the room.
They had come to an unspoken agreement, he and Jade; neither of them mentioned anything. He acted as if he hadn't worked it all out about she and Skywalker, and she acted as if she hadn't realised he'd worked it all out... which dovetailed quite nicely.
He wandered over to conference room nine, where yet another group of specialists had been brought in by the Emperor to deal with the problem. Hallin was quite proud - very proud in fact - of the way he'd managed to deflect blame neatly away from himself for the last week or so and onto a variety of specialists whom he'd basically shipped in specially for the purpose of keeping Palpatine off his back unil Luke finally opened his damn eyes. It wasn't as if any of them could refuse...
Time to meet this week's cannon-fodder.
.
Mara sat quietly in the room, automemo on her lap, reading today's dispatches out loud for want of anything else to say, pointing any she thought he might like to know out to Skywalker, passing the occasional comment as she did so. "... of course, it's easy for them to say changing the Rim borders will clarify the..." she trailed off as the life-support made a disturbing new sound, what had been a low, regular beep for the last week raising in pitch then joining to a staccato tone.
"Chell!" She cursed, jumping up to reach over to the alert resting on the far side of the bed-
and glancing down into open, slow-blinking eyes.
"...Luke?" she dropped the alarm comm in her surprise, distantly hearing it clatter to the floor, aware that there was something different this time - that this was awareness.
"Hey, look at you," she said gently, heart pounding, "Welcome back to the land of the living."
He blinked several times, and Mara tried not to notice his right eye, which still had no white at all, even the iris shot through with the dark, reddy-brown of old blood, then his unfocused gaze drifted up to the ceiling. Mara was prevented from saying any more by Hallin barrelling in through the door, skidding to a halt and leaned in close, fumbling for something in his many pockets before eventually giving up.
"Commander, can you hear me?"
Luke didn't look, and Hallin repeated the question a little louder, Mara stepping back to give him room. He moved in, snapping his fingers before Luke's eyes, to worryingly little effect as far as Mara was concerned.
"Commander...Luke? Luke, I need you to look at me. Luke?" Hallin again snapped is fingers, Luke finally lowering his gaze just slightly towards them, though his eyes bobbed and weaved and he blinked constantly.
"Luke, I need you to speak to me. Can you say your name?" With no answer or acknowledgment forthcoming, Hallin leaned in closer, "Luke can you hear me? Luke, I need you to say 'yes'...this is very important... you need to say 'yes'."
Mara watched hopelessly as Luke's vague awareness drifted, bruised eyes gradually closing.
"Luke?" she asked at last, but he was gone, eyelids fluttering shut, the audio marker on the display dropping slowly to a pulse again. Mara sighed deeply dispirited.
"Well, that was pretty positive."
Hallin practically beamed, bringing Mara's eyes to him in disbelief. "How the hell do you work that out?"
"He woke up." Hallin nodded in reassurance as he looked to the readouts, "Everything will be fine - there's nothing wrong with his brain activity, no damage on any scans. We just needed him to open his damn eyes."
Mara raised her eyebrows in accusation, "You said that some patients never progress beyond basic responses."
"I did, that's true. But neurological damage is minimum and he's regained consciousness well within that thirty-five day window of maximum potential... everything will be fine now Commander Jade. Trust me." He practically buzzed with excitement and relief, gesturing to the automemo she held when Mara continued to stare at him, "You should...keep going with that. Clearly he likes it. What were you reading?"
She glanced down, askance. "Just dispatches."
"Ah." Hallin deadpanned, keeping a serious face, "He always likes to keep up with current events."
Mara raised her eyebrows, not knowing whether the strange, slight medic was joking or not.
.
.
.
Day fell into night but Hallin remained in a buoyant mood as the scanners showed sustained, elevated brain activity, Luke just a few beats away from sleeping, now. Despite his assurances to Jade, somewhere in the back of his head Nathan had been dreading the spectre of a slow decline from coma to a persistent vegetative state then a minimally conscious one and eventually brain death, or death from complications. He hadn't realised until now just how afraid he'd been of losing Luke. He headed back to do a final check of his patient for tonight, confident that in a day - two at the most...
He stopped dead as he entered the room. The Emperor was leaning forward over Skywalker, hand resting lightly on the long surgical scar which ran down his chest.
Hallin hadn't been informed that the Emperor was here and no extra guards had given his presence away, so now he simply froze, uncertain what to do.
Palpatine didn't turn as Hallin finally remembered to bow.
"My Jedi woke today." It was a statement, not a question. Hallin had of course informed the Emperor's office as soon as Luke had woken, but still, something told him that Palpatine would have known anyway. A small shiver ran down his spine, at what he didn't know; some distant alarm sounding...
He finally found his voice, "Yes, Excellency. Just for a few moments, but I'm confident that he's turned that corner."
He stepped forward just slightly then stopped, deeply uncomfortable. Palpatine didn't move, didn't turn away from his study of Skywalker's face, hand remaining lightly pressed against his chest. The brittle silence stretched out, until Hallin could stand it no more. "The um...the scars, we've been treating with Inabertol and bacta. It will diminish the..."
"Not these." Palpatine said, finally lifting his hand to gently run the back of one ridged nail down the long, severe scar which ran from Skywalker's eye down his right cheek and through his lips, trailing down onto the still-severe wound at his throat. "These he'll keep. A permanent reminder of betrayal; the limits of misplaced trust."
Hallin frowned, voice barely a whisper beneath the intensity of the Emperor's will. "You want me to stop treating them?"