Chapter I

If this was being dead, then it wasn't nearly as bad as everyone makes it out to be.

There was darkness and quiet, save the faint tinnitus that seemed to have always existed. Considering the noisy and restless life on Coruscant, this really should be considered a vacation. I mean, the ringing in the ears could take it down a notch, but there's no use in complaining about things you can't fix.

Maybe now I'll find out if I'm Force-sensitive or not, I thought with a smirk. Or if the Force is even real.

The truth was on the cusp of revealing itself. Any moment now, some spirit of a Master Jedi should be waiting for me with open arms. Or Darth Vader's specter waiting with his red saber in hand. I wasn't entirely great during my 22 years of existence. Either way, bring it on death. Show me what you got.

Apparently, death can read thoughts and was up to the challenge, as my head slammed against something solid. A hollow, metallic thud tore through my brain, momentarily displacing the soft tinnitus. Of course, a much louder and higher pitch took place in its wake.

I guess it was safe to assume that I did not make the cut for a happy, eternal life.

I took a moment to ponder which of my actions lead the powers-that-be to decide to send me to Hell. There was the cheating and alcohol smuggling at Uscru, the occasional white lie to extend curfew when I was younger, but nothing out of the ordinary. There had to have been a mistake.

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"Orrin." A voice called my name. It was faint, distant, masculine.

"Orrin. Orrin Fireith. Can you hear me?" The voice grew louder, as if the person speaking was approaching. It sounded urgent.

"Squeeze my hand if you can hear me. Orrin - " Now the person was running towards me, their voice practically screaming in my ear. The tinnitus joined in, and together the cacophonous noises resounded in my brain until –

Turns out, I wasn't dead after all.

My eyelids flew open and registered the frame of a blurry woman standing over me. Looking to my sides, I could tell I was lying on a gurney. The tinnitus had dissipated, replaced by various beeps and hisses. The woman kneeled down, her face inches apart from mine. She took a hand and pressed it against my forehead, maintaining eye contact with me as she spoke.

"Her vitals are all stable. She's warm, but nothing out of the ordinary. Probably her first time on a ship." Smiling at the last part, the woman, dressed in nurses' garb, pulled her eyes away from mine and met with a man on the other side of the gurney. Sluggishly, I turned my head to take him in. He was younger, perhaps thirty. Red hair was cropped behind his ears and pushed underneath a black cap. This must be some official-type shit.

It was then I realized he was gripping onto my left hand.

"Hey!" I scolded, pulling my hand away. There was a sharp tug; both my hands were pricked with needles connected to intravenous tubes. The sudden movement and speech made my temple throb. Wincing, I sat up and scanned the room. Propped up on a stirrup was my right leg, a plaster cast molded to it.

"Ah, um, Ms. Fireith, you shouldn't – " The nurse began.

The man shushed her. "Let her take a look. She has the right to ask questions."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll take your word on that." I said quietly.

Evidently enough, I was in a hospital with a fucked up leg. How it happened was completely beyond me.

The man's curt speech cut off my train of thought.

"You sustained a blaster injury in your right calf from a Rebel." He nodded towards my injury. "A Resistance troop invaded your neighborhood. Luckily enough, our craft was docked near by. Our medical team took you in immediately." The man raised his eyebrows, reinforcing his stiff stance. "You are safe here."

"A Resistance troop?" I pushed myself up so I was nearly face-to-face with the man, despite pleas from the nurse not to. The name had sounded familiar, hopeful; and yet, shrouded in mystery.

The Rebels. The Resistance. Was I supposed to already know who and what those were? Who were the Resistance, and why were they firing at me? 

"I-I don't understand. I..." I closed my eyes, rubbing them with the palm of my hand. Why can't I remember any of this happening?

The man answered my question before I had the chance to ask.

"The blaster wound left you unable to move. Not too long after, the Resistance detonated a series of magna bombs. The utter force of the explosions appeared to have launched you into a wall." He looked over towards the nurse, signaling her to continue.

"The collision caused internal bleeding in your medial temporal lobe. I wouldn't be shocked if your memories regarding the last year, more or less, have become impaired." She gazed down at her feet. "I'm sorry."

The nurse turned to face the glowing screen behind her. After a few strokes of her finger, several scans of a brain flashed one by one, openly displaying like a deck of cards. The nurse began a thorough explanation of what exactly had gone wrong with my head, complications, and rates of recovery. Trying to pay attention to her was nearly impossible. Her voice was silent in comparison to the ones screaming in my head. Why was the Resistance attacking my home? Where am I? Do my parents know I'm here? Are my parents...

"Did you see a man and a woman there? At the neighborhood. Oberlin and Magdalene Fireith?" My heart was in my throat, my head swimming in confusion and incoming vertigo. It was an incredibly vague, stupid question.

A pause engulfed the room.

The man gestured for the nurse to exit the room. Readjusted his weight from one leg to the other. Looking clearly uncomfortable.

"You were the only survivor."

That doesn't mean they're dead.

They could have been at home, listening to a radio broadcast like they always did, horrified by the Resistance's attack. Worried about where I was.

That doesn't mean they're dead.

"So, there's still hope." I said, watching the man shuffle.

"Your father was the one who gave us your name," the man clasped the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "It was the last thing he said. Your mother thanked us and followed suit."

The room went white.

The man was speaking, but the noise was garbled, as if we were underwater. My parents were dead, and I can't even remember it happening.

My eyes rolled back in my skull, and all was dark.

Then, turbulence.

I came to, and the room was shaking. Vials were smashed; my hands were freed of the tubes attached to them. Blood was smeared across my shirt. The man was standing spread-eagled against the door, eyes wide and mouth open. Staring at me.

"Control yourself!" He commanded, his tone a guttural yell.

Suddenly, I felt like I had been punched square in the stomach. I lurched forward, reaching out.

The turbulence stopped abruptly. I leaned back into the gurney and sighed. Tears silently crept down my cheek.

The man collapsed to the floor, his chest rising and falling rapidly. As quickly as he fell, he stood up, assuming his original position, completely disregarding what had just transpired. As if everything was all right. As if my parents weren't both dead right now.

He wiped his hands on his dark trousers. Nervousness did not suit him well.

Approaching my bed, he stuck out his hand without hesitation.

"I think it's proper time to introduce myself to you. Orrin Fireith, I am General Armitage Hux, serving for the High Command of the First Order regime." 

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A/N: hey there, everyone! thanks for reading the first chapter of my fic. this is my first time writing a serious fanfiction, so any feedback is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it!