((A long time ago in an RP universe far far away, there were several long-lasting storylines. One of those included the birth of twins. The boy, Jack, survived. The daughter, Samantha, did not. Or so everyone thought…))
Seven galactic standard years ago
It was a difficult birth, the hardest he had ever been a part of. Or even heard of, for that matter. Which figured – this particular family was the hardest he had ever had to deal with. At every turn, they fought him, ignoring his medical advice, insulting him to his face, questioning his credentials. His credentials! He had graduated in the top third of his class at Coruscant Medical School! With honours! Well, one honour, anyway. And he had been the personal physician for the Governor of Alderaan’s second cousin, for crik’s sake!
He couldn’t wait until they were dead; the assassin would be there within an hour of the doctor’s call.
But first, he had to deliver the babies for this…this Sith in Lydia clothing.
It had taken him aback, seeing her again: Lydia. The love of his life. Until she had been stolen away, brainwashed by the same Sith man who now lay dying just a few beds away. Had this been the real Lydia, this would have been the best day of the doctor’s life – finally, his beloved would be free to pursue the life she truly deserved, with the man she was meant to be with!
But this was not the real Lydia. This was some sick caricature of her, a Sith woman who had had pale skin grafted onto her body, had her hair replaced, even changed the colour of her eyes, all to look like a woman who had died years ago. It would have made the doctor sick, had the resemblance not been so uncanny; despite knowing the truth, he could not stop himself from wanting to believe it was her.
He would stay, make sure the assassin did not kill her. If the doctor could not have the real Lydia, this stand-in would do. It would be his third victory of the day.
The first was the boy who had just been born. Exactly what the doctor’s employer had sent him (and the assassin) to acquire.
The second, though, was a bonus he had never dared dream truly possible – a second child, for the faux-Lydia was giving birth to twins. The doctor’s employer did not know of the second child, which meant the doctor had an exciting opportunity. He needed only to secure the baby for himself, and at last he would be able to pay off his debts, with enough credits left over to retire someplace warm, quiet, and away from the sorts of force-wielding maniacs he had been forced to deal with since his gambling had spiralled out of control. There were those who would pay dearly for a force-sensitive child.
The only problem was, the second child was dying, and the doctor could find no reason why.
“We’re losing the second baby! What is going on? Two units Epiordorne!”
The medical droid applied the shot as the doctor scrambled. The boy was safely out, already in a different droid’s care, but something unusual was happening. The Sith was twisting and screaming. Not entirely unusual for a birth, but this seemed to go beyond the norm and, from what the doctor could tell, it was not from the birth. His immediate assumption was that the dying Brembal was using the last of his power to…to what? Save himself, probably. At the expense of his pseudo-wife and his own child, he guessed. The doctor did not know much about the force, would not have even believed it really existed, for that matter, had his employer not…shown him things. Enough things to leave no room for doubt.
The force was real and presumably the void-blasted Sith a few beds over was using it to kill the doctor’s retirement plan. It was not to be borne; thus the child had to be born.
The doctor lost all sense of time and place as he worked against a timer he had no way to track, putting everything he knew (and some things he made up on the spot) to save the life of the child, cursing under his breath at the unusual Sith anatomy. The species looked a lot like humans (especially this one) but no amount of grafting could change the interior anatomy, which was just different enough to make him fumble his first few attempts to help the baby out (why were there ridges??) At last, he managed to grab the baby’s head and, between one tightened jerk of the mother’s body and the next, guide it free of the constricting cervix and out.
The baby – a girl this time – was quiet and, instead of the deep pink of his brother, was tinted blue. She was alive, but barely. The doctor had a choice to make, and it was an easy one. He pulled the NICU droid – a safety precaution in case the single child they had expected needed it (but fortunately the boy was perfectly healthy) – closer and, while the convulsions of the mother still held the attention of the others in the room, set the dying baby inside.
The droid immediately went to work, snipping the umbilical cord while a tiny oxygen mask covered the delicate face. The opaque lid to the unit closed with a soft snick. The doctor turned back just as Sith-Lydia’s convulsions stopped and her sweat-covered body slumped to the bed. Her breathing was quick and heavy. A glance at the monitors showed her heartbeat was rapid but steady. Whatever had happened during the procedure, the Sith had survived.
Those in the room – because of course most of the cricking family had to be there – looked at the doctor with an unspoken question, and he put forth his best doctor-with-bad-news expression.
“I’m…I’m sorry. Before the daughter could make it out…something happened. The mother’s body fought the delivery. She…I’m sorry, I’m afraid she didn’t make it.”
Gasps and mutters, a few angry expressions, and someone began to say something typically rage-infused, probably with an intent to threaten, but the mother unexpectedly spoke up.
“It is true. Lydia…tried to save Brembal. She used up what remained of herself and pulled power from the children as well. She…Lydia and Brembal are both gone. For good.”
The doctor felt a double burst of elation – not only had the Sith woman inadvertently covered for him, that monomaniacal tyrant was dead! This really had turned into one of the best days of his life! So good, it even made dealing with these psychotic idiots worth it.
The family looked sad but not suspicious, and then were distracted by the son, who chose that moment to make a noise. As the droid with the son moved to place the child on his mother’s chest, not-Lydia looked at the doctor. “May I see Samantha?”
“Samantha? Oh, was…is that her name?” The doctor scrambled to think as the mother gave him a weary nod. “I am sorry, but not right now. I did not know what was happening to cause so much trouble during the birth, so to be safe, I placed the body in a hermetically sealed container. It will keep the body preserved but it is on a timer and will not be available for two hours. I had planned on an autopsy, but if you feel you know what happened…”
“I know. There is no need for an autopsy.” The Sith sighed, then broke into that Lydia smile the doctor had pictured in his dreams nearly every day for the past two decades as the droid handed her the boy. “Hello, Jack.”
As the family gathered around mother and child, the doctor slipped away, pushing the NICU droid with him. The baby’s vitals had stabilized – she was alive and, barring power failure or something equally disastrous, would likely remain so. On a balcony overlooking the city, he keyed instructions for his staff into the embedded datapad, then pressed the button on the droid that would send it to his office. A life of luxury was within his grasp. All that remained was to convince Lydia-not-Lydia to come with him, and all his dreams would finally be realized.
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