At the sound of Master Che's voice, both Padme and Anakin's heads snap up.
Anakin Skywalker is never far from Obi-Wan Kenobi for long, and he's also notorious for bolting from the Halls of Healing and field medics' tents alike when he doesn't feel he needs to be there. Knowing this, it's hardly a surprise to find him out of bed. However, like many, Vokara Che is fascinated to learn that the virtuous Naboo Senator also has a rebellious streak.
For half a moment, Padme looks like a youngling caught out of bounds, but her dignified mask quickly returns. While Anakin withers apologetically under the master healer's glare, Padme launches unabashed into an explanation of why, after experiencing considerable trauma, Anakin needs to be informed and allowed near the person he experienced it with. She is bold, but quite articulate, and perhaps she has a point.
But Anakin creates an even more convincing argument without saying a word. The change in him is obvious as he sits beside Obi-Wan, fingers gently pressed into the sick man's wrist, observing the pulse that still beats there. The cloud of listlessness is gone from his eyes.
Were Anakin aware of how plainly he displayed what he was feeling he would have been mortified, but it's nothing new to Master Che. In supervising the Halls of Healing, she is frequently privy to some of the more vulnerable moments in the lives of Jedi. She has no illusions about the way the Code is interpreted and bent by all members of the Order. After all, before they are Jedi, they are people.
"You have questions, I assume." says Master Che as curtly as always, but with a degree of gentleness in her demeanor that wasn't there before.
Surprise flashes across Anakin's face. He takes a moment choosing where to begin. "Obi-Wan...it got really bad for a while...didn't it?"
Che forms her answer carefully. There's a good reason why she hadn't been frank with Anakin from the beginning, but trying to protect him from the truth had certainly backfired. "Yes. He was septic and progressing into shock when they brought him in. His organs were starting to shut down, he was hanging on by the Force alone."
Without realizing it, Anakin tightens his grip on Obi-Wan's wrist. "So what happened?"
"Just that - he hung on. The antibiotics and fever reducers kicked in. We operated to remove a section of excessive bacta-grown tissue that was perpetuating the infection, and his blood panels have been looking steadily better ever since."
"He'll recover?"
"He's got a long road ahead of him, Skywalker. But if you want my professional opinion, yes, I think so. There may be some long-term nerve damage, but nothing too severe."
Padme's fingers ghost across Anakin's shoulder, and he returns a small smile.
"One hour," the master healer concedes. "I will tell the staff and droids that normal visitation rules need not apply to you for that time. But," she adds with a stern eye on Anakin, "If the situation becomes detrimental to anyone's health – including yours, especially Kenobi's – I will not hesitate to remove you both. And at the end of such time I expect your full cooperation."
Both parties nod their agreement. Anakin resumes his post by Obi-Wan's side, and Padme pulls up a plastic chair next to him.
The sights and sounds of the ward fall into a pattern eventually. Obi-Wan continues to breathe against the ventilator now and then. Every few minutes one of those grotesque masked TB droids pricks Obi-Wan's finger for a blood sample, then sometimes adjusts the equipment or medications.
Their hour is half over, and Anakin and Padme are sitting in companionable silence when Master Che and a dark-skinned human healer appear, the human eyeing the two onlookers curiously.
After holding a hand a few inches above Obi-Wan's chest to feel him in the Force, and clicking through some charts on the bedside monitor, Master Che instructs a nearby TB droid to turn the ventilator down.
"I'd like to start him on bacta submersion as soon as possible," she explains to Anakin and Padme. "But first he needs to be able to breathe mostly, if not entirely by himself. We're going to back off on the vent a little bit at a time to encourage him to pick up the slack. Make sense?"
For the first few seconds Obi-Wan lies motionless, not breathing until the vent suddenly kicks in. His sats start to tank as it happens again. Anakin watches in horror but the healers wait, calm and expectant.
Obi-Wan's body quickly figures out what it's supposed to do. His oxygen levels creep back to where they were. Soon he is breathing in rhythm with the machine, taking about every third breath on his own.
There are a few startling moments of silence, and the machine abruptly kicks in again.
"Master, you gotta breathe, remember?" Anakin takes Obi-Wan's hand. Obi-Wan breathes.
"Can he hear us?" Padme asks.
"He is in a healing trance, but it's possible," the human healer replies.
Anakin feels their eyes on him but he squeezes Obi-Wan's hand again, murmuring reassurance just in case his master is listening. "Told you I wasn't going to leave, you know," he tells Obi-Wan, so softly even Padme can barely hear. "I know you're trying. That's good."
"He's come a long way in the past few hours," Master Che remarks.
The healers monitor Obi-Wan's vitals carefully, but he is breathing more and more, even pushing back against the ventilator when he can.
"That's encouraging, isn't it?" whispers Padme to Anakin.
Anakin makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, which Padme interprets to mean he agrees, but he can't allow himself to let his guard down yet. She understands.
Master Che watches the exchange with some concern. Anakin is as taut as a bowstring where he sits, and the hand that is not holding Obi-Wan's trembles uncontrollably on his knee. From his Force signature she can sense his elevated temperature and blood pressure. Something needs to change before stress-related illness sets in. Master Che would normally send Anakin back to his own quarters where he will be calmer, but…well, usually Obi-Wan is around to make sure he takes his medicine and actually goes to bed. She doesn't like the thought of Anakin alone in this state, having a panic attack in an empty apartment, wandering the Temple consumed with anxiety, or Force knows what else.
"Senator, a word?"
Padme glances at Anakin like a cornered animal before schooling her face and following Che out into the corridor.
"You two care quite a bit for one another, yes?" The chief healer begins.
"I—" Padme stammers. "I have worked frequently with both Anakin and Obi-Wan over the past several years, I suppose you could say that we have become friends, that is…well, in a professional sense…"
"I am neither accusing nor threatening anything, please do not take it as such."
"Threat—I don't see that there is anything you could accuse me of, Master. The Jedi are permitted friendships, are they not? Anakin was my protector, he was concerned for my wellbeing, and perhaps I have come to be concerned for his as well. That's the extent of it."
"I believe you." Master Che lies, thinking back on all the times Padme has argued, snuck or fibbed her way into the Halls of Healing when her 'professional associate' was injured. "In times of crisis, a perfect Jedi ought to draw strength only from the Force, not lean on more human impulses such as attachments." Master Che states. "That said, Senator Amidala, I treat very few perfect Jedi. I understand how these things work."
"I don't—we never—"
"I understand." Master Che insists, ignoring the color rising on Padme's cheeks. "I have known Anakin since he was a padawan of nine, and I know he's at his absolute limit right now. I need someone he trusts to help him."
Padme hesitates.
"He desperately needs a rest and I know he won't get it here. Not to mention trying to keep him in bed and away from Kenobi is a task I would not wish upon anyone." Master Che offers Padme a wry smile. "I just need to be assured that he gets home and settles down. Can I rely on you?"
Anakin grinds his teeth until his jaw is sore, waiting to wake up from this confusing nightmare. Everything feels deceptively stable and safe now, but how can he trust it all not to collapse at the slightest provocation?
It occurs to him that he hasn't heard the ventilator hum in a while. Obi-Wan seems to be breathing almost entirely of his own accord. A glance at the rapidly fluctuating bedside monitor tells Anakin that Obi-Wan's heart rate is soaring. He presses the comm unit on the wall, asking for Master Che in a shaky voice.
The limp fingers entwined with Anakin's suddenly go rigid, gripping Anakin's hand as though it were a lifeline.
"Obi-Wan!" Anakin exclaims. "I'm here, Master. It's Anakin."
Obi-Wan's eyes flutter and open.
A smile cracks across Anakin's face. "Hi," he says breathlessly.
Master Che marches into the room, half expecting a full-blown emergency. She's pleased by the scene she finds instead.
"Hello, Obi-Wan," says Master Che. Obi-Wan's eyes dart wildly around the room. "You're safe on Coruscant. You've got a tube in your throat to help you breathe, it probably feels a bit odd," she informs him.
Obi-Wan looks between each of their faces in bewilderment, and his breaths become more labored and panicky. The TB droid rolls past Anakin and pushes a mild sedative through the IV line.
Obi-Wan painfully attempts to cough.
"Easy," Master Che soothes him with a pulse of the Force. "I'm afraid you can't have that out just yet, so try to relax."
Obi-Wan lays back against the pillows, holding Anakin's gaze with a glazed expression.
[Padawan,]
A familiar voice and a tug at his training bond brings tears to Anakin's eyes. He surreptitiously blinks them away.
[I'm here, Master.]
[It…hurts, Anakin, why does it hurt?]
[You've been ill. You have to get better, Master. I can't—]
Anakin's unfinished thought echoes ominously in Obi-Wan's mind. I can't—I can't—what? Lose you? That's no way for Anakin to be thinking. What had Qui-Gon said? 'There is hope for him yet, but your loss would break him.'
Obi-Wan's own thoughts are too muddied to untangle that mess at the moment. The pain is so debilitating that he can't even identify where in his body it's coming from. He reaches instinctively for the Force to relieve it, gripping tighter to Anakin's hand, feeling cool darkness return as his consciousness slips away.
[Obi-Wan!] "Obi-Wan?"
Obi-Wan is out cold just as quickly as he'd come up.
"Ah, well, that's to be expected," Master Che quips.
A tiny beep, and the ventilator whooshes to life.
"No!" snaps Anakin hoarsely. Obi-Wan inhales half a breath, then allows the machine to take the next several. "NO!"
"Ani, it's alright—"
This shouldn't be happening! Anakin has practically climbed into the bed, taking Obi-Wan by both shoulders. A strong blue hand on his bicep yanks him back.
"Anakin Skywalker, enough!" Master Che thunders. "This is not a turn for the worse. He came up to see you, which took tremendous effort. You've tired him out. Now stop this."
Anakin is on the verge of tears again, only holding them back because the master healer's turquoise eyes are staring directly into his. Padme takes her hand off of Anakin's shoulder and discreetly steps a more respectable distance away from him.
Master Che places a hand over Obi-Wan's chest and closes her eyes, sending him back into a deep healing trance, and ups his painkillers to help him stay there.
"He's overcome the biggest hurdle now, his immune system is starting to clear the infection. I expect the fever will break in the next few hours. This is going to take time, Skywalker, but have a little faith in him. Come, now."
Anakin glances from Obi-Wan's motionless form, still being forcefully pumped with oxygen by the tube in his throat. "But…" He glances from Obi-Wan to Master Che and back, a faint tremor still shuddering through him. He gives Obi-Wan's hand a final squeeze, mumbling, "I'll see you later, yeah?"
Anakin is surprisingly agreeable—or dead on his feet more truthfully—as Master Che hands him his discharge paperwork on a datapad for him to thumbprint and a cup with the three pink tablets.
"I want you to take those 15 minutes before bed, and I don't want to argue about it, Skywalker," she says, not unkindly. Anakin doesn't notice her make eye contact with Padme behind his back.
The pneumatic door of Anakin and Obi-Wan's shared quarters slides shut behind them, and for the first time in all the chaos, they are truly alone. Anakin staggers through the common area and into his room, where most of his things sit in cardboard boxes. He'd been in the process of moving to an apartment of his own when they were called away on the mission to Gavoros.
Anakin sits down stiffly on his bed. Padme follows and puts an arm around his shoulders, a gesture which quickly morphs into a full embrace as he collapses into her arms. Finally, Anakin lets go of the façade he's been struggling to maintain in front of the soldiers and Jedi. It doesn't matter if Padme sees him crumble like this, he thinks. With her he doesn't have to pretend he's not a rubbish knight, vulnerable to attachments. She already knows and she loves him in spite of it, maybe even because of it.
"He was so sick," Anakin sobs, breaths coming ragged and throaty. "I couldn't—I didn't know how—he was so sick, Padme."
Images and sounds flicker faintly in Padme's mind. For a fraction of a second she sees blood on leather gloves and pooling by her knees. For a moment, she hears earsplitting alarms and tiny, rattling wheezes that can't seem to catch their breath. Padme knows that if she had a single Force-sensitive bone in her body, she'd probably be reliving Anakin's trauma in high definition.
"They said he's getting better, Ani," soothes Padme, holding him tight, his head buried in her shoulder. "He's going to be alright. And you're going to be alright."
"I know!" Anakin whines. This is just stupid, there's nothing to cry about now.
Padme just holds him, rubbing circles on his back, until the tears turn into hiccups and he starts to sit up.
"Better?"
Anakin nods. Blind to the Force, Padme still manages to sense exactly how he feels. She wipes a stray tear from his cheek with her thumb and plants a chaste kiss there.
"Does Obi-Wan know how upset and scared you were?" she whispers.
"I hope not," says Anakin, baffled.
"Are you going to tell him?"
"Why? So he knows that I still let my emotions control me?"
"So he knows how much he matters to you," she says.
Anakin decides that she clearly doesn't understand how the Jedi code works, but he holds his tongue. He heaves himself up from the bed, mumbling something about a shower.
Standing under the hot water in the 'fresher is almost a religious experience. Anakin can't summon the effort to wash his hair but just standing there is enough. He can feel weeks of dirt rinsing away and it is nothing short of wonderful.
He emerges looking much more comfortable, clean and wearing fresh sleep clothes, but his bloodshot eyes and trembling hands betray him. Padme hands him a glass of water and the pills from Master Che with a hardened look, as if she expects him to resist. He doesn't. He tips all three back in one go.
"Thank you," he half-whispers, pulling his wife into another embrace.
"Of course, love," says Padme. "Please rest. It'll be alright."
The drowsiness hits Anakin long before 15 minutes are up. Padme draws the blinds against the broad midafternoon light. Anakin tells himself it's alright to sleep. Everyone is safe, Obi-Wan is on the mend, Padme is here, he's home. Repeating those thoughts to himself, he gives in to the heavy combination of medicine and fatigue.
Padme waits beside him until he is finally, mercifully, asleep. She kisses his brow before she takes her leave.