LOL Thanks for all of the feedback as always everyone! ^_^ Here's the next chapter--Enjoy!

--Marie K.
*See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and other info.*
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Chapter 4

"What happened to him?"

Ceal moved closer to the whispering Jedi. She pulled a datapad from a slot near the bed, scanned through it briefly, then replaced it. She looked up. "Reports came in yesterday afternoon about an older man resembling a Jedi. Of course I went to investigate. By the time I arrived, he'd collapsed."

Obi-Wan's fists clenched tightly, turning his knuckles white. The bruises marring his master's sagacious and weathered face gave him mixed feelings of worry and anger. If the guards had beat him-

"Garen and I brought him back here. Lab tests show that he's fighting *Ulvitosimen*, or space bacteria if you want it put in simple terms."

Surprised by this news, Obi-Wan sank into a burgundy, overstuffed chair beside the bed where his master lay. Looking slowly around the room, he took in the stark, white walls and pictures of ocean sunsets-to soothe the room's occupants, no doubt. One look at his master, however, with eyes swollen shut, graying hair matted and damp with sweat, complexion ghostly pale, and left thigh bandaged because of a deep laceration, and his heart and stomach began fluttering all over again.

"So they didn't beat him?" he asked just as quietly.

Ceal shook her head. "Of course not. He collapsed near the forest before anyone could get close to him."

"Oh.what exactly does the space bacteria do?"

Garen, ever the ship expert, leaned against the doorframe with his hands jammed into the pockets of his pants and said, "It lives on your ship. Most of the time it's beneficial because it fends off harmful organisms that may destroy your ship. When it comes in contact with humans, however, and enters the bloodstream-as it has with Master Jinn-it mutates into a nasty virus. Chances are he was injured by a piece of glass or metal when your ship crashed and the bacteria entered his body. His immune system is taking all his strength trying to fight it."

The young slave owner crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. "We've given him some antibiotics to help fight it, but the rest is up to-"

The Jedi Master began tossing. Hallucinations caused by his high fever made him see people who weren't there. "Master Yoda.found her.Marie."

Obi-Wan reached for his master's hand to comfort his friend. His voice was hard with no emotion when he spoke. "Master, can you hear me? It's Obi-Wan, I'm here. You have a fever, Master; you're hallucinating. Marie isn't here. No one's heard from her since she left for that solo mission over a year ago. The Council is assuming she's.dead."

The apprentice suddenly froze. If Qui-Gon was seeing her, claiming he'd found her even though she was believed dead, did that mean-

"Is he dying?"

Obi-Wan spun to face Ceal, catching her completely off guard. A panicked look flitted across her face as he struggled to keep himself from grabbing her by the shoulders and madly shaking her until she answered.

Ceal clapped her hands urgently, and a male medic with wavy, black hair immediately rushed in. It was almost like he had been waiting directly outside the door-

He left a few moments later, blood from the sick Jedi held tightly in a small glass tube. He would run more tests to discover the master's progress, if there had been any at all. The results would be back soon.

Anger flared briefly in the apprentice's eyes as he turned to stare at Ceal. "I could help him," he said tersely. "If you would just take the collars off-"

But Ceal was already shaking her head and motioning for Garen to come to her. "We'll give you some time alone with him. The evening meal is in an hour. Garen will come for you."

With that said, she exited, Garen two steps behind her and adoringly admiring the back of her head.

Obi-Wan covered his face with his hands. "I'm sorry, Master," he said quietly. "I've failed you.again."

The young Jedi pulled angrily at the Force collar around his neck. If only he could get it off!

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When Garen arrived to collect Obi-Wan an hour later, he was surprised to find the young man sleeping, his head resting lightly on the bed beside Qui-Gon. A look of contentment covered his face. Garen felt a faint stab of jealousy; he missed the companionship and familiarity his own master's presence always offered him. Garen cleared his throat softly.

With a start, Obi-Wan shot up, then relaxed and allowed a yawn to overcome him when he saw who it was. The black eye he'd acquired during his earlier adventures shone like a new star.

"Perhaps you should have someone look at those injuries of yours, Obi-Wan. I'm guessing you haven't taken the time to take care of them."

The apprentice grumbled something incoherent.

"Obi-Wan-"

"No!" came the firm response. "I'm fine, really."

He hated to admit any weaknesses.

Garen shrugged. "Say what you will, Obi-Wan, but I'm still going to tell Ceal. She, at least, can *make* you see a healer. Besides, those are some pretty nasty looking cuts on your arm *and* your cheek. What would your master say if you got sick too?"

Garen looked at Qui-Gon briefly, not giving his friend a chance to answer as he immediately sighed and asked, "Have you heard anything new?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "The medic came in a while ago, but when he saw me, he left. Real nice fellow," he added sarcastically.

Garen nodded. "We'll ask Ceal. The medic should have informed her of his condition by now. The other slaves don't have any problems with Jedi because we tend to sit in the same boat, so to speak, but the medic isn't a slave. Ceal hired him. He gets paid and can leave, or be made to leave, whenever he or Ceal chooses. Are you ready to eat now?"

Obi-Wan tipped his head in agreement while giving his master's hand one last, reassuring squeeze before following Garen out of the room.

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Later that night, Garen rolled over in his bed and propped himself up on his elbow. All the lights were off, but even in the pitch-black of night he could tell his roommate was anything but asleep. Before he could say anything, however, the sleep couch beside him squeaked.

"Garen?"

"Yes?"

"What-"

"What's it like?" The dark haired boy interrupted his friend before he could finish. He'd expected the question sooner or later.

"Yeah." It came out slow and strained and thick with an accent that had been present since birth.

Garen reached over to flip on a small glowrod. Obi-Wan's face was half-covered by shadows. He shrugged as best he could in the position he was in. "Being a slave has-really made me think about my goals in life, my dedication to the Order. Being cut off from the Force for two months has changed things. I don't feel as safe as I used to. I feel awkward in my body. People no longer have any depth; they're just pictures with no meaning. Even you, who I know almost as well as I know myself. Not having my lightsaber with me constantly makes me feel naked and uncomfortable, like everyone is staring at me and I have this huge muja berry stain on my tunic.

"I've never been cut off from the Force before. Did you know that? Sure, we had those few exercises at the Temple where our connections where `dimmed', but I've never completely been cut off from it. I felt like dying the first few days, but Ceal was kind to me. She asked me questions about my life as a Padawan.

"I still dream of freedom, don't get me wrong. But at night, when I stretch out with my feelings to call my master, or feel someone's Force signature, or move something *and I can't*, I wonder if I ever will again. Sure, it's depressing, but I see it as a lesson to be learned. Nothing happens by chance, Obi-Wan; remember that. At least you still have Qui-Gon. Don't forget what Ceal said earlier about his recovery."

Obi-Wan laid his head on his pillow and put his hands on his chest. He thought he might sense bitterness in Garen's last remark. But his friend was right. At least he still had his master. Ceal had explained to him at dinner that the Jedi was expected to make a complete recovery with no after effects.

Content for the moment, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tenderly rubbed the arm that Ceal had ordered him to get bandaged earlier. As Garen flipped the glowrod off, he realized just how long a day it had been. Rest would be welcome.

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The day had arrived in a gloomy, stormy fashion, perfectly suited to a certain Jedi Padawan's mood. Obi-Wan, still mulling dejectedly over his new circumstances stood on a balcony over looking the courtyard. Even from the height of the third floor, however, he could not see over the grandiose wall. Placing his forearms on the railing, Obi-Wan looked to the sky and watched as the first few drops began to break free of their prison in the clouds. He envied the tiny droplets.

The massive gates in the front courtyard suddenly swung open. Disgusted by what came through them, he turned on his heel and headed to the turbolifts to take him to the second floor. He had promised Qui-Gon he would come see him again at noon. It would be his third visit that day. The Jedi Master had finally come back to the world of coherent thought the night before after a week of being in a near comatose state. The virus was under control now, nearly gone in fact and all that was left for him to do was recover. It was music to the Padawan's ears.

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Below in the courtyard, Ceal glanced up at the now empty balcony and sighed in despair. Her attempts to get the young Jedi to open up and trust her had all ended in fruitless results. Why couldn't he be more like Garen!

"Miss.Verune?"

Ceal turned her attention back to the young slave beside her who waited patient and unmoving, his skinny arm stretched to the side to keep the umbrella he held over his mistress's head.

"We should get inside `fore you catch cold."

Ceal smiled and nodded, her actions stiff as though she wasn't fully there. Taking her briefcase from the slight boy, she allowed him to lead her up the steps and into the mansion.

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The walls outside the sick bay were decorated a rich burgundy with deep navy flowers and small, ornamental lights. Window seats were interspersed along the seemingly never-ending hallway.

When he wasn't working, Obi-Wan would sit on one of the seats and daydream about the future, something he had rarely done before coming here.

It had turned into a bad habit that he knew would not be easily broken.

Now, he had to venture past the elegant hall and into the small, stark white sick bay. He hadn't made it far, however, when the medic he'd met on his first day blocked the door to Qui-Gon's small room.

"Excuse me, *Antiyo*."

The medic gave him an annoyed glare. "Don't you mean, `Please allow my wretched, disgusting body to enter this room, *Dr.* Ganfor'?" he asked with a smug grin.

"No," Obi-Wan said simply. "I mean get the Sith out of my way!"

The young Jedi shoved roughly past Antiyo. Qui-Gon looked up at the commotion, his attention pulled away from his healing trance for the moment, and started to smile when he saw his apprentice, but instead motioned quickly to the door. Obi-Wan ducked just in time and spun around. Antiyo was grinning wickedly, slapping a small metal rod against his open palm every few seconds.

Obi-Wan peered closer at the object that he'd nearly been clubbed by and strangled a gasp.

It was his lightsaber!

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "Give me that! Where did you get it?"

Antiyo shrugged nonchalantly. "Stole it," he said, obviously not caring if a mere slave knew the truth. He clumsily activated the blade and extended it the full length of his arm. "Beautiful weapon," he murmured, obviously pleased by the tortured look on his adversary's face.

"Padawan-"

Obi-Wan turned away quickly from the demented man and started towards his master.

The elder Jedi was confined to bed rest for at least another week. He couldn't leave even if he wanted to anyway-his room was constantly being monitored by other servants or-occasionally-Ceal herself. Plus, his underused muscles probably wouldn't be able to support him for more than a few moments at a time.

Obi-Wan was half way across the room when his master's second warning came. This time, however, it came too late.

The apprentice crumpled into a heap at Antiyo's feet, who was brandishing the disengaged weapon like a bat. A small smirk played across his lips.

Obi-Wan recovered quickly from the blow to the side of his neck, however, and wrapped his legs around one of Antiyo's knees in a classic defensive maneuver before giving a quick jerk.

The doctor joined Obi-Wan on the ground.

Both men grabbed the other and began rolling across the cold, tile floor like a pair of children. Qui-Gon was desperately trying to call Obi-Wan to attention, but found it hard to do since his mouth was constantly parched from the medicine he'd been given to fight the virus. Not to mention his vocal cords had temporarily collapsed as a side effect of his illness and he was just getting his voice back.

Suddenly, Garen burst through the door with Ceal hot on his heels. While the latter ordered Qui-Gon back into bed, Garen yanked the doctor off his friend. Ceal was on them both in an instant, chastising Obi-Wan more so than the other, though as she snatched the lightsaber away from Antiyo.

"You've made a big mistake choosing to fight, Kenobi!"

Obi-Wan's mouth mimicked that of a fish's, his eyes widening in disbelief. Surely she didn't think *he'd* started the fight!

Ceal pushed him against the wall with her imposing stare, although the young woman didn't scare him at all.

Two guards appeared out of no where and restrained the Jedi apprentice. Ceal walked up to him and narrowed her purple eyes dangerously. "Until further notice, you are restricted to the more arduous tasks of outside labor. You will get no breaks for a week. You will eat-alone-in your room or outside and may speak to Garen only when you retire at night. You also will not have permission to see or speak to Qui-Gon except for one time a week, during your day of rest. Am I understood?"

Obi-Wan shook his head profusely. "I didn't-"

"Don't you get it? I don't care!" Ceal snapped. She turned to look Antiyo over briefly before waving her hand towards the door and emitting a dramatic sigh. "Get them out of here."

Obi-Wan struggled against the guards. In a split-second of freedom, he glanced back at Qui-Gon. If anyone could help him convince the young woman that it wasn't his fault, it was his master. But Qui-Gon, as wise and imposing as he had ever been, despite the silver collar around his neck, had turned away and was staring at one particularly soothing picture, his eyes reflecting so many tangled emotions that they could not be picked apart.