And All Points North
Chapter 2
Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand. -
Emily Kimbrough
Although Schurke made a concerted effort to stand on his own, Kampher knew she would bear the brunt of his weight.
But it's always been like this, Kampher thought to herself. Despite the fact that we are all so different, with different Masters and different backgrounds. We've always leaned on each other.
The hall was dark and quiet as most of the patients were sleeping. Even the most of the Healers had taken this opportunity to meditate and rest.
"Not far now, Schurke," Kam told him soothingly. "Can you make it?"
He offered her wry smile. "Doing double duty then, Kam? I mean, normally it would be Toboo or Gris on the other side..."
"Not always," Kampher snorted. "Gris could sling you over her shoulder quiet easily..."
"And still have a free hand to slap mine away," sighed Schurke. "Especially if it got too close to you."
"Or Toboo..." Kampher giggled. "You should know by inow/i Schurke that Anakin only has eyes for Senator Amidala. You saw how much he mooned over her when he thought Master Kenobi wasn't looking..."
They fell into a silence as they made their way down the passageway, but it was a comfortable silence bred from their years of friendship. Kampher had been nearly five seasons old and had been rumored to have actually known her family when she had come to the Temple. Gris and Schurke had been friends from the Jedi Crèche. Anakin, who had been admitted even later in life, had become accepted into the small circle of elder Padawans soon after arriving at the Temple. They had been drawn together, inexplicably as some friendships are, and had remained close despite the differences that set them apart. Anakin with his youth, Kampher with her almost eerie gifts as a healer, Schurke with his roving eye and tendency to make light of almost any situation, and Gris. Gris was an Eithorian, and their people rarely allowed their children to join the Jedi. Gris's Master Padrone Aliéné had found her on one of his many solitary missions, and had taken her on as his Padawan, and neither Gris nor her Master had ever spoken of the specifics...
Kampher sighed. She missed Gris, who had gone on another mission with Master Aliéné several months ago, and there hadn't been word from her at all.
"Kam, wait..." Schurke said suddenly as they were halfway to his bed.
Kampher turned to him, concern etched on to her features. "What is it? Does your leg hurt?"
"Which one, Kam?" Schurke replied bitterly. "My right leg? Or the one I left on Geonosis?"
Kampher bit her lower lip. "Shurke..." she trailed off, unsure what to say.
Shurke sighed heavily. "I - I'm sorry Kam..." he murmured. "You don't deserve that."
"None of us did – none of us deserved any of it, Schurke," she told him softly and then pulled him into an embrace. They stood there, alone in the passageway, holding each other like two lost children. At last Schurke broke away a little.
"Thanks," he said shortly. "Kam..."
She kissed him on the forehead, and Schurke touched her nose gently. "Now now!" he giggled. "People will say we're in love..."
Kampher's eyes widened, then she looked away.
Schurke leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Gris wasn't there, Kam... She was on another mission with Master Aliéné when Master Yoda gave the call to come to Geonosis..."
"Gris hasn't been there for a long time, Schurke..." Kampher swallowed hard, and once again the mask of the perfect Jedi Healer slipped into place. "We need to get you back into bed," she said shortly. "Healer Amarre must tend to your leg and that bruise on your eye."
Schurke raised his eyebrow questioningly. "What bruise on my eye?"
"The one I'm going to give you if you don't let go of that train of thought, Shurke Canaille," Kampher snapped. What happens between Padawan Chavel and myself..."
"I know, Kam," Schurke said sadly. "It's none of my business. I just don't want to see you in any more pain. There's a reason for the Code."
"That's enough, Schurke," Kam replied briskly, then softened as she changed the subject. "Master Obi-Wan will want some time alone with Anakin, and I have a little time for a meal. Would you like me to eat with you?"
Now it was Schurke's turn to lower his head, but his expression bore a shy smile. "Yes, I'd like that, Kam. Your company would more than make up for the stuff that passes as food here."
"Come on then," Kam gave him a playful tug. "Master Amarre will be waiting, and Anakin needs to be seen to."
Once again, Schurke stopped up short. "He's going to be all right, isn't he, Kam?" He asked suddenly. "I mean – really all right?"
Kampher sighed, the weight of the words on her shoulders. "Yes, I think so. Now. It was close, though... so many..."
"I think you should stay with me a little longer, Kam," Schurke told her in his quiet voice. "I mean, even Healers need a friend sometimes. A little break..."
"Let me take care of what I need to first..." Kampher began but Schurke cut her off.
"And then come take care of yourself," he finished for her. "Supper, you promised."
At that, Kampher only nodded as they made their way back down the passageway.
After promising Schurke one last time that she would return to share her meal with him, Kampher picked up the Medi-Set and made her way back to Anakin's bedside. She found Obi-Wan still keeping a silent vigil next to his apprentice, one hand lightly clasping Anakin's limp one.
"Master Kenobi?" she asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Do you wish to stay while I tend to this? It will only take a few moments."
"Yes, of course," Obi-Wan replied in a worn and weary tone. "Can I be of any assistance?"
"Hold his hand," Kampher said. "Talk to him, Master Kenobi. I don't ithink/i he can hear you, but still..."
Obi-Wan gave an involuntary shudder as the Healer inserted a needle full of a purplish fluid into a shunt that was attached to Anakin's chest.
"This will help him rest as well as heal," Kampher explained with a slight grimace.
"You don't like this," Obi-Wan observed sagely. "The constant use of the drugs."
"Anakin is very resistant, Master Kenobi," Kampher sighed. "He fights everything, but until we can get back to the Temple and to the Healer's wing, we have very little choice. We'll be back on Coruscaunt within three days. I'll have access to much better facilities and more help then." She stopped her ministrations for a moment, allowing Anakin to sink more deeply into unconsciousness. "Over two hundred Jedi went to the surface, Master Kenobi. Of those, nearly thirty had wounds similar to yours – relatively easy to treat. Fifteen came to us as you have seen Anakin and Schurke, with missing or maimed limbs. Anakin and Schurke are among the five or six that are expected – no, hoped - to live."
Her hands shook as she began to unwrap the stump of Anakin's arm; the flesh underneath was mottled and angry around the various electronic implants that had been placed there. Kampher began touching them with a small probe, seemingly relieved at the results. Obi-Wan sat watching in mollified silence. He had seen many artificial limbs in his time, but never at this early stage of implantation. The alien landscape of mechanical and living flesh gave him a chill that he could not explain and he shivered. Kampher, however, seemed unperturbed.
"He'll lose almost the entire arm here," she said almost clinically. "The shoulder will need to be enhanced to accept the dura-steel and the electronics, but he should be able to adapt fairly quickly to it all." She cast a look at Obi-Wan, who had paled at this information. "I tell you all this now, Master Kenobi," Kampher told him firmly, "because the most important step in Anakin's recovery is iacceptance /i. If you, his Master and father figure, can understand and accept this new state of affairs, it will go a long way toward helping him understand and accept. Do I make myself clear?"
"As an adegan crystal, Mistress Healer."
"Kampher," she corrected him softly. "My name is Kampher. I guess you know that I'm a friend of Anakin's, as is Schurke..."
A slight smile began to light up Obi-Wan's face, despite the grimness of the situation. "Yes, Anakin often speaks of you and the others. You give him the balance of friendship when I must play the disciplinarian. I'm sure he's bemoaned my lectures and exercises to no end."
Kampher laughed a little as she finished applying the bacta solution and began rewrapping Anakin's wound. "Only rivaling Schurke in that regard, Master Kenobi. However, as with all of us, his complaining is tempered with love. Your disagreements with Master Qui-Gon are legend still..." Here she trailed off. "I'm sorry Master, I don't mean to..."
"It's all right," Obi-Wan assured her, but there was a tremor in his voice. "Qui-Gon was a good man, and I still miss him at times." Unbidden, Master – no – Count Dooku's words came back to haunt him. Qui-Gon would have never accepted the corruption in the Senate, nor the implied corruption in the Jedi Order itself...
"I'm finished for now, Master Kenobi," Kampher said suddenly, startling Obi-Wan out of his reverie. "Would you like to stay with Anakin and have your meal?" The Healer seemed anxious to make her departure and leave Obi-Wan alone with his apprentice again.
"If it wouldn't be a problem, I'd like that," Obi-Wan admitted. "I think he needs me now."
Kampher only nodded as she made her way back down the passageway, leaving the Master and Apprentice - father and son – alone for a while.
