a/n: hey hey hey. thank you for being here! sorry to say i had lost interest in sw for a little while after we lost carrie. it's not like i ever met her, but carrie was and still is my ultimate hero. hilarious, inspirational, and so much more than we ever deserved. she partially inspired this fic in the earlier chapters, too. thank you carrie for decades of hilarity and cold, hard truths about drug addiction, mental illness, and sexism.
now, just to share one of my favorite quotes by Carrie Fisher: help me obi Juan whoever the fuck you are... You're my only ho
Enjoy!
"And here it is – the Room of One Thousand Fountains," Obi-Wan said, his gaze wandering around at the ambiance of perhaps the single greatest indoor arboretum in the galaxy. Yes, he thought – infinitely better than Padmé's Nubian spa.
The room was its own ecosystem. Given a few, say, hundred million years or so it could surely develop its own evolutionary traits that would make it scientifically unique. With a holographic ceiling engineered to mirror the sky outside, irrigation systems that sprinkled rain-like water for precisely two hours every other morning, and the most biologically diverse collection of flora from a thousand different planets, the room never failed to impress. Indeed, even the mere idea of this actually being, in fact, a room never failed to impress, because this was as close to being outside as one could ever get without leaving the comfort of their own home.
So it was that Obi-Wan had brought Anakin here, and so it was now that he steadied his gaze on Anakin's face, which was currently the same type of awestruck that it had been as a nine-year-old boy visiting this room for the first time. His eyebrows had raised, making his eyes round and his mouth slightly agape. All he said was, "This is inside?"
Obi-Wan laughed and led him down one of the narrow dirt paths that cut under foliage, so that every few steps they went in and out of shade from the artificial sunlight. In his ears Obi-Wan heard the dull rushing of the largest waterfall, interrupted by the quieter fizzing of the smaller fountains and sprinklers. He remembered, years ago, when a much smaller Anakin had been jumping back and forth in conversation between wow, it's so green here and wow! there's so much water what do you do with it all, there's enough in here to fill the whole Dune Sea! And where often such wistful memories filled him with unbearable longing of late, today they actually made him feel...young. Oh, how time had passed.
He led Anakin down a path he'd walked dozens of times, under a canopy of leaves that rustled as they moved by. Side by side, they found themselves soon in a small space by a stream of water that would be recycled to serve as the rain and irrigated into the turf. Obi-Wan reached down to confirm that the grass was dry enough to sit upon, and lowered himself to the ground to take in the beauty all around him.
To his credit, Anakin – who was perhaps the most consistently impatient person Obi-Wan had ever known – seemed remarkably calm and still. His eyes were filled with awe as he looked up at the projected image of the sky. Maybe he missed flying, Obi-Wan thought, the freedom of controlling a ship and the ability to travel infinitely in any direction. Though really, the latter had never been true. Assignments, missions, tasks – every place they had ever gone together, they'd had an objective. Obi-Wan had always favored a Jedi's travels as a symbol of freedom, but for Anakin, he thought, the endless stream of predetermined destinations and orders had always been another sign of bondage.
Sometimes, Obi-Wan thought he should have done more about that. Anything at all to make Anakin more comfortable growing up in his new, unfamiliar world. He couldn't quite say for sure, but Obi-Wan had always suspected that the temple had never felt like home to Anakin the way it had to himself. It wasn't really anyone's fault, of course. The boy was from another world, literally. Coruscant and Tatooine were different as two planets could be, and their cultures equally so. Perhaps Anakin would have felt more at home on the artificial surface, thousands of meters below the highest spire of the temple, where people of less fortunate backgrounds gathered and struggled to make end's meet. And that thought made Obi-Wan feel terribly sad; if Anakin and the regality of temple life were so incompatible, what childhood must the boy have had in the desert?
He'd always tried not to think about it. He had tried to help Anakin adjust. But, Obi-Wan thought now, he had probably tried too hard. He hadn't been ready for his responsibility. Qui-Gon's request notwithstanding, he probably should have let someone else take Anakin under their wing. But he hadn't. Why? After all, Qui-Gon wouldn't have known. During that time, Obi-Wan had been in too much pain to believe that Qui-Gon might have been somewhere else, actively watching from the netherworld of the Force. So what had it been inside him, that made him take this child and teach him every bit of knowledge he had ever accumulated?
It had been a long time coming, but Obi-Wan was finally beginning to accept the answer.
He had been lonely.
It was simple enough. His most trusted companion had died in his arms. Most of his friends of that time had advanced past the Padawan stage and into the true Jedi experience of adulthood. During his long days at the temple after Qui-Gon's murder, he had been so chillingly lonely, barely finding comfort in anything, let alone the youngling entrusted to him. And, he knew, Anakin had felt much the same. In those early days, they had circled around each other, not entirely knowing what to think. What to do. What to say. Not knowing where to go from there. It had been awkward, confused, and above all, lonely. And really, that was what had connected them, in the end. Anakin had been so small, so afraid. Obi-Wan had, too. They had both lost someone, and finally found each other.
Maybe the memories of those feelings were what kept him going now. Maybe he saw those same feelings of loneliness in Anakin now, and that was what drove Obi-Wan to keep going. Because he knew, he remembered, how it felt to be lost in a brand new world and not know how he was supposed to fit into it all. It was how Anakin must have felt. It was how Obi-Wan felt, too.
They had started out as strangers, brought together by a quick succession of unfortunate circumstances. They were strangers now, too. In a sad way, they had always been strangers. It was true that Anakin wasn't the type of person that Obi-Wan would have ever expected to be his best friend, but there they were. There they always were. Two strangers who happened to know each other inside and out.
He hoped he could reignite that spark. Maybe their relationship would never be the same, but...but, on the other hand, maybe it could be even better than it had been before. It would be delusional to say he and Anakin had never had problems with each other. Maybe this was their opportunity to fix all of that.
Maybe that was part of why he had brought Anakin here, to the fountain room, in the first place.
Or maybe, he thought sardonically, it wasn't nearly that complicated.
Then, and Obi-Wan in all his ruminations didn't quite notice the precise moment it happened, but suddenly he felt a distinct buzz of pain and brief nausea in the Force and he looked sideways at Anakin, still standing, who suddenly had one hand on the side of his head and another covering his eyes. Then he groaned, lowered himself to his knees, and bent over himself as if he were about to be sick. Obi-Wan instinctively reached to grab him for support, but thought better of it just in time. Instead, he knelt beside Anakin and said, "Are you all right? What's wrong?"
It took Anakin a few seconds to answer in a stutter, "Just came out of nowhere..."
Obi-Wan frowned. Another migraine. This was the third, or perhaps the fourth, in the nearly two months since they had been here. He needed to do something about this. Anakin needed something to be done about this. It was time to stop putting it off.
"You know," he started, slow and careful. "The Halls of Healing are right nearby here, just two floors up, we could be there very quickly, and I'm sure they would have something to help –"
He mostly expected the usual rebuttal and dismissal, so he was surprised when he actually heard Anakin say, in the tiniest voice that made Obi-Wan's heart ache, "Please...please don't make me..."
"I'm not making you do anything," Obi-Wan assured him as gently as he could manage. And that was true, but how could he make Anakin get it? "I need you to understand that, Anakin. Whatever you choose to do is your choice. And the way I see it, you're letting your fear make your choices for you. I'm offering you my help, but I can only help you so much."
Anakin took a heaving breath and shuddered. "I know...I know." He turned his head slightly toward Obi-Wan. "I'm scared."
"That's all right," Obi-Wan said. "It's okay to be afraid, but you can't let your fear overcome you. If you avoid things that scare you forever, your fear will only continue to grow." He took a deep breath. "Just do this for me, ask yourself: do you want to keep feeling like this? Or do you want to stand up against your fear and take back control?"
Anakin looked at him through locks of hair that had fallen in his face. He was breathing in gasps, his face constricted. Through the Force, Obi-Wan could still feel whispers of his nausea, and he knew from the way Anakin held his hand over one eye that the pain had not subsided. He appeared to be considering, or at least trying to, but Obi-Wan knew that his friend's ability to think was often muddled of late.
Finally, he whispered, "Soon," and he looked at Obi-Wan like he meant it. "Soon, I will. But now I – just want to go home. Please."
It wasn't the outcome he had hoped for, but Obi-Wan smiled at his friend nonetheless. "Okay," he said softly, and then held out his arm in a gesture of offering. "Can I?" Anakin peeked at him and nodded, and Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around Anakin's back and helped him up. They walked slowly out of the fountain room and toward a turbolift, and as they made their way back to their living quarters, Obi-Wan found himself momentarily stunned to realize that the advice he was giving Anakin now – not to let go, but to allow himself to feel – was at least slightly out of line with generalized Jedi dogma as he had traditionally practiced it. Then, in an even more stunning revelation, Obi-Wan realized that he believed every word he had said.
Hm...
That bore further consideration, at a later time.
For a few hours, he left Anakin in his room to rest, allowing himself to sink into meditation and to be grateful for the progress he and Anakin had made, regardless of how long it had taken. And really, they had. True, Obi-Wan still had days of unstoppable frustration and nights where he himself was shamefully close to tears, mornings where Anakin couldn't get out of bed and afternoons where Ahsoka wouldn't look him in the eye. But more and more, Obi-Wan got the feeling that, unless he was just too foolishly optimistic, Anakin was again beginning to consider him a friend. Outside of the nights that they didn't, they frequently ate together, or watched the HoloNet, or sometimes even just sat and talked. For Obi-Wan, it was enough.
But Anakin still needed help.
Later, though the sun was still high, he went in to check on Anakin and found him awake, curled against a pile of pillows on his bed. It was with a distinct crease between his brows and a quivering lower lip that he blinked up at Obi-Wan, who handed him an ice pack for the back of his neck. Then Obi-Wan draped a cool cloth across Anakin's forehead and let his fingers linger there, smoothing a bit of hair back. That was when he had a thought. Perhaps, he considered, enough time had passed to try something else...
"Anakin," he said gently, trying not to sound pushy. "I know something that might be able to help, but I need you first to trust me."
There was no change in Anakin's droopy eyes. "I do."
Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. "Then I need you to open yourself up to me. Close your eyes, and relax. Let me in."
If Anakin was confused, he must have been too exhausted to show it. Instead, he did as requested, letting his eyes slide shut while still maintaining tenseness in his brow and his shoulders. Obi-Wan rested his hand on the crown of his friend's aching head, and gingerly took Anakin's human hand in his other.
He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He considered his environment, the stuffy cool air in the room, the plushness of the bed under him, Anakin's warm body twisted in blankets, twisted in pain. He considered how his own body felt, the tension in his shoulders, the slightly uncomfortable way he sat, the weight of gravity pulling him down, but the strength of his back keeping him upright. He focused on his breathing, made himself breathe along with the count of four in his head, four counts to breathe in, four to hold, four to breathe out, four to hold. He considered what was in his mind, a wild collection of things he needed to do, whether important or inconsequential. He considered them, then he set them aside for later. Finally, nearing the height of a zen, meditative state, he released the tension in his shoulders, unclenched his jaw, loosened his hold around his friend's sweaty hand, and sat entirely still.
Now, he could turn his attention to Anakin.
Mind detached from body, he let the Force flow in and around him, a constantly moving current, a turbulent and invisible but very real swirl of energy that connected every part of him to every part of Anakin. Simultaneously they were both two bodies and two ethereal entities. Not for the first time, he allowed himself to feel astounded at how resounding Anakin's presence was in the Force, the sheer intensity of his friend's sensitivity to the energy field that a small fraction of life in this galaxy could sense to any substantial degree. Even when they were connected in this way, like two links in an energy chain that bound the whole plane of the universe together, the strength of Anakin's Force presence seemed to surround him unlike any other. And also not for the first time, he found himself wondering what it must be like to have that kind of spiritual connection to the hidden aspect of the universe to which Obi-Wan had dedicated his entire life.
Truthfully, even when they were bonded together as such like two atoms forming a molecule, there wasn't much Obi-Wan could do for his friend's physical form. He wasn't a Jedi Healer, not that Healers interacted with their patients in quite the same way as this. He didn't have the innate or learned ability to heal ailments through the power of the Force alone. But that wasn't his goal, not now. Right now, it wasn't about what he couldn't do for Anakin, but what he could. And what he could do was simple: he could make Anakin feel more comfortable. He could help him sink deep into relaxation. He could distract him from what harmed him on a physical level by giving him something to cling onto spiritually.
He could make Anakin feel more at home. He could make Anakin feel loved. Perhaps that was his real goal.
So there Obi-Wan sat, barely conscious of his own physical form, living instead in the endless haze of the Force. Perfectly aware of his surroundings and circumstance, ready to return to them at will, but entirely separate from them.
Slowly, he felt it working. He felt the brightness of Anakin dim like the fading sky at sunset, the stinging, throbbing pain fall second to fatigue. He felt his friend's consciousness slip away into what would likely be vivid dreams that depicted sights and sounds the conscious human brain could not understand. Still, he continued to release soothing pulses through their connecting energy, making sure his friend stayed asleep, before Obi-Wan gradually allowed his concentration to return to the material world and, eventually, his eyes to open.
In his sleep, limp and curled under his sheets, Anakin looked so innocent. Anyone in their own state of sleep would, but it struck Obi-Wan now more than it ever had. He pushed a lock of hair out of Anakin's relaxed face, then let his hand slide down, coming to rest at a scar just below Anakin's left shoulder. There were many like it, each telling their own story. Obi-Wan had been there to witness some of them. Many of them were new, unfamiliar. This one in particular looked shockingly similar to the scar that Obi-Wan himself had in the same spot, one from Dooku on Geonosis. There was the one on Anakin's right arm, received that same fateful day, scar tissue where the flesh melded with metal. So many more, hiding away under the sheets. But Obi-Wan knew they were there. And all he could think...was how young Anakin really was. Young, but experienced beyond his years.
He sat there for a while, gently tracing his finger over the scar on Anakin's arm, making sure he was asleep. And he vowed, to himself and to the Force, not nearly for the first time, that he would protect Anakin until the day he died.
It was the same day, though it didn't feel like it, when Anakin reemerged from his room. Obi-Wan had elected to take a nap, too, though more for his mental stability than his physical comfort. It was late in the afternoon now, and when Anakin found him, Obi-Wan was sitting on the couch in the living area, reading something on his datapad that, for once, was for leisure and not for the war.
When Anakin sat down beside him, his body language portrayed anxiety but his presence in the Force was calm. Obi-Wan put his datapad down and asked, "How's your migraine?"
"See, that's the thing," Anakin said, and it was then that Obi-Wan realized how Anakin was looking at him as if he had never seen him before. With awe, bewilderment, and sheer wondering amazement. He said again, "That's just it. It's gone."
Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. Maybe he should be a Healer after all.
"Which has never happened before," Anakin continued, clearly awestruck. "What...exactly did you do?"
"I tried to access our connection to each other through the Force," Obi-Wan explained. "Was it too much?"
"No," Anakin said, shaking his head back and forth. "I just...I mean, I...I knew you."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," Anakin said, apparently struggling to turn his thoughts into words, "I've been...I've had to trust everything you said about...well, everything, but now, I...I know that I knew you."
Obi-Wan felt his jaw drop slightly. "You mean, you remember?"
"It's more like you unlocked something," Anakin said, looking confused. "It might sound stupid, but I feel like there was something hidden away, or buried, and you dug it up again."
Obi-Wan took Anakin's hand in his. "You remembered."
"I remember how I felt. About you." Anakin stared right at him, and Obi-Wan saw the eyes opposite him were beginning to glisten. When he spoke again, it was thickened by layers of emotion that, for once, didn't seem to be bad ones. "I know that I trusted you. And...I know that I missed you when I was gone."
Until you forgot me, Obi-Wan thought, biting his lip. He hadn't suspected – he hadn't known that trying to dissolve his friend's headache through the Force would trigger anything else. He hadn't known it was possible. But then, there was nothing about the pair of them or their situation that had any sort of precedent. He should be grateful for this. And he was. Oh, he was.
In a whisper, he said, "I missed you, too." He truly, truly did.
They stared at each other for a minute and then sat there, not knowing what to say. Or rather, not really needing to say anything. The connection through the Force had, for Obi-Wan at least, conveyed everything just fine.
After a time, Anakin was fiddling with the hem of his sleeve when he said, "If you still, you know, wanted to go to the doctors, then I...I'll go. Or, whatever you want."
Obi-Wan smiled sadly. "I want it for your own benefit. I'm often guilty myself of not getting treatment when I need it. And you do need it. I know you know that."
Anakin nodded. "I...don't really know if I trust them or not, but...I know I trust you. So..."
"So, you want to get it over with, I presume?"
Another nod.
"Well, then. Let's go."
To be perfectly candid, the hospital unit of the temple was not Obi-Wan's favorite place to be. There would be no use in trying to remember how many times he'd been here during the last few years; the effort alone was enough to make him feel depressed. He didn't think he wanted to be here much more than Anakin did, in fact, but sometimes...they all had to make sacrifices.
In fact, he and Anakin had each individually been here so often that the apprentice at the reception desk nodded to him in recognition and said, "Dr. Bhel is free, I'll let her know you're here."
Doctor Bhel Jhassar was a stout and green-skinned Tekho that had essentially acted as Obi-Wan's and Anakin's primary physician since the start of the war. A few years older than Obi-Wan, she was patient and kind and practiced exactly the kind of bedside manner that Anakin needed right now. As soon as she called them into her office, she sat them down and sat casually on her desk with a friendly smile on her face.
"To tell you the truth," she said, "I wasn't sure this day was going to come."
Despite himself, Obi-Wan grinned. "It's good to see you."
"And you. How's Ahsoka?"
"Better, but she's kept much to herself. You would have to ask her."
Dr. Bhel nodded with a sly smile, then hopped off her desk and manually pulled her office chair around her desk to be close to them. By the time she sat down, something within her had changed to the model of professionalism. She held a datapad in her lap and leaned over slightly, looking at Anakin, who stared directly at the floor.
"Anakin," she said gently, "My name is Bhel Jhassar. You and Obi-Wan have been my patients many times throughout the last three years, so I'm glad to see you now." She glanced down at her datapad, then up at Obi-Wan. "Now, Obi-Wan has been kind enough to explain some of the medical situation to me already. I understand that you're suffering from migraines, seizures, post-traumatic stress. Is there anything else bothering you?"
Anakin eyes flicked up to her. He looked, from Obi-Wan's perspective, very much like a child at school who did not want to be noticed. He was drawn in on himself, arms clenched to his sides. He shook his head and looked back at the ground.
"I can tell you're uncomfortable," Dr. Bhel continued, "and I don't want to keep you here longer than is necessary. But if I'm going to treat you, I need your help. So can you tell me – is there anything else that hurts? Any injuries or problems you've been having?"
Obi-Wan watched as Anakin took a deep breath. It seemed to take a lot of effort for his friend to say, "No."
"Okay," Dr. Bhel said with a small smile. "Then I'm going to ask you some questions to try to get a handle on the extent of what you're facing. Some of these questions might be uncomfortable, but they'll each help me to help you. First, I'm going to start with your migraines and seizures. As you may know, both of these, as well as memory loss, are commonly caused by head injuries. Are you aware of any head injuries you may have sustained, and how long ago they may have occurred?"
Anakin didn't, or couldn't, answer. Instead, he was sitting shock still, frowning down at the ground. Dr. Bhel appeared sympathetic. She said, "Listen, I know what I'm asking. From what I understand, which may not be much, you've been through many terrible ordeals. I don't want to ask you to tell me about what happened, but there are certain things that I need to know if I'm going to be able to help you. Even if you can tell me the bare minimum and nothing more, that will help. So please, just let me ask this: did you, to your knowledge, experience physical trauma to your head?"
As he watched Anakin struggle, Obi-Wan wished he could chip in any information, but truly – he didn't know. He didn't know what had happened to Anakin. He had ideas, theories, dozens of them – but he didn't know. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He wondered if he was about to find out.
Finally, Anakin managed to say a single, shaky word: "Electricity."
Yes. That confirmed theories one, two, and three. Dooku's favorite torture method taken to a whole new level.
"Electricity?" Dr. Bhel confirmed. "Can you elaborate at all?"
Anakin reached up and pointed to his temple. He stuttered, "They used it – to – to erase..." Then he cut himself off and clamped his jaw shut.
Dr. Bhel nodded in dawning understanding. "In order to cause the damage they did, they must have done it periodically over time. Is that correct?" Anakin squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. Obi-Wan's heart was pounding so hard he thought it might burst through.
"That explains much of it," Dr. Bhel said, getting up and pulling her chair back behind her desk. "See, the problem with treating brain injuries is that each one is as unique as each brain. Sometimes it astounds me, but millions of years of scientific studies behind us and there isn't a single discovered species of life of which we fully and completely understand the brain. Humans are, I'm afraid, no exception."
She then typed some words into her datapad and a moment later pulled a diagram of the human brain to the screen on her wall. "As you know," she said, "Different parts of the brain control different functions. Over here" – she pointed toward the middle of the diagram – "Is where memory tends to be stored. That, then, is the easy part, because we know for a fact that this part of you has been purposely damaged. Despicable, but true. The more complicated question, therefore, is what residual effects did that damage have, and how do we help it?"
Dr. Bhel stared at the diagram for a moment, considering, and then looked at them. "Here's where the problem is. As I said, we know that this part of the brain has been injured. But you see, both migraines and seizures can have a number of different causes. Migraines tend to be caused by changes in blood flow to certain areas of the brain, and seizures by heightened electrical activity within the brain. But then, there are different types of each of these, and on top of this we also have to address your emotional trauma, as well."
For a moment, she put her hand to her chin, thinking. Then, she said, "I think it would be best if we start with a brain scan. There is no way for me to know exactly what's going on unless we can actually see the damage that's been done. We can do it tonight, if it's all right with you."
Obi-Wan looked sideways at Anakin, who muttered in the smallest voice, "Whatever you want."
Dr. Bhel nodded, and stood at once. "Then if you'll excuse me, I'll go inform the technicians and be back as soon as I can."
She left the room, and Obi-Wan saw Anakin visibly relax. He wondered what was going on inside his friend's head, but didn't ask. Anakin seemed content to ruminate inside his own thoughts, so Obi-Wan stayed silent. It must have been ten minutes later when Dr. Bhel returned.
"All right," she said, "We're all ready for you. The technicians could explain better than I how the machine works, but I can assure you that you won't feel a thing. It should only take about a minute or two, and we'll be able to look at the results shortly after. Ready?"
Anakin took a few deep breaths, and then got up, keeping close to Obi-Wan as they followed the doctor out of the room and down a hall. Every part of his body seemed to be clenched tight as if to form a shield around himself. His arms were drawn in close around him as if he were out in the snow. Obi-Wan, as usual, tried to send out a soothing pulse through their Force connection, the same one they had reactivated just this afternoon. He truly hoped it would help. Anakin needed this. He needed this.
They entered a room near which Obi-Wan saw a sign for the medbay's 'Bioscans and Imaging Center', somewhere he had been to himself many times – enough concussions and fractures as a result of the war tended to necessitate that. They rounded a corner, then entered another room which was occupied by two other people, a collection of non-threatening medical scanning equipment, and the cushioned table on which a patient would typically lay during the test...
Something was already...off, in the Force, and Obi-Wan had a guess as to what it was; when he happened to turn around the precise moment the door hissed shut behind them, and saw Anakin flinch visibly and then collapse back against the wall, his suspicion was confirmed. Anakin was looking all around, his eyes flicking from one piece of equipment to the next, his breathing suddenly shallow, rushed, uneven –
Obi-Wan looked, only a little frantic, to Dr. Bhel, who had a strange look on her face. She waved for the technicians to leave the room through another door. Anakin was sitting on the floor now, pressing himself back against the wall as if he were trying to squeeze through the solid metal surface, and both Dr. Bhel and Obi-Wan knelt down to be at his level.
He hated himself for it, but Obi-Wan hadn't the faintest clue what to do or say, so he let Dr. Bhel make the first move. "Anakin," she said very gently, "I promise that no one here is going to hurt you. You're not in any danger."
Anakin squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head toward his chest. Dr. Bhel seemed, despite all her worldly knowledge, totally unprepared for this. She said, "Perhaps if I left you alone. I'm going to go get you a private room." She nodded at Obi-Wan, and left.
Obi-Wan made an effort to keep a respectful distance. "Anakin," he said, leaning in only a bit. "It's all right. We're alone now. Please, look at me." Anakin raised his head. He was shaking uncontrollably, his eyes wide as he stared into Obi-Wan's own. The Force was drenched in panic, and fear hung thick in the air around him. They were all alone in the room, and Obi-Wan was determined to keep Anakin's attention on him.
"I need you to focus on your breathing," Obi-Wan said softly. He took a long breath in and another out, modeling it. "Try to match mine. If you can do that, everything else will follow."
Anakin nodded, frantic, trying to obey. When it grew shallow again, Obi-Wan repeated himself. "Breathe," he said. "Can I take your hand?" His friend's eyes flicked downward, and then nodded again, and Obi-Wan took Anakin's human hand and held it firm.
Between his breaths, with tears slipping down his cheeks, Anakin whispered, "I don't want...to forget again..." He grimaced. For just a moment, the Force flashed with cold.
"You won't," Obi-Wan said. He massaged Anakin's hand with his thumb. "Remember where you are? The Jedi Temple, where you came to be safe. Iam going to keep you safe, Anakin."
"Please," was all Anakin could say.
It was a short while before Anakin's breathing finally did manage to even out. Eventually, Obi-Wan asked softly, "Do you want to get out of here?" Anakin nodded, and gave his permission for Obi-Wan to gently wrap one of his arms around Anakin's shoulders to help him up. Then, he Forced open the door, and waiting patiently for them outside was a young Twi'lek. She bowed.
"Maser Jhassar has requested I show you to a room," she said, and then led them back out the way they had come. The whole way, Anakin was clamped to Obi-Wan's arm like it was his only lifeline.
"Please let us know if you need anything," the Twi'lek said, before leaving them alone in their designated room. Obi-Wan saw Anakin take a minute to familiarize himself with these new surroundings, and then helped him over to the bed, where Anakin pulled the covers around him tight and Obi-Wan sat in the bedside chair.
They stayed that way for a long time, Anakin with a blanket cocooned around himself like a barrier between him and the outside world, Obi-Wan sitting quietly and waiting for his friend to find calmness. They both waited, and waited, and then finally Anakin managed to say something. And that something was: "I killed people."
"I know."
"No," Anakin said, shaking his head. "No, you don't. I killed them. I – murdered them. I don't even know how many. But I did."
Obi-Wan tightened his grip on his friend's human hand. "And what if you hadn't? Sidious would have tortured you until you couldn't fight him anymore, or until he killed you himself."
"But," Anakin whispered, "But wouldn't that have been better? If he had just killed me? Why couldn't he have just done that in the first place? Wouldn't we all have been better off?"
"You're thinking about it from your perspective now, not from back then," Obi-Wan said, reaching up to smooth Anakin's hair back. His hand paused a moment to brush a new set of tears off his friend's cheeks. "You responded to these horrible experiences by surviving the only way you could. It's what anyone would have done."
Anakin looked at him. "You wouldn't have."
"There is no way to know that," Obi-Wan said, gentle but firm. "I've done things I'm not proud of in order to survive. What matters to me isn't what you did under threat of torture, but how hard you fought to get away. You escaping from them was the greatest testament to your strength that I could ever need."
His friend shook his head again, this time more insistently, so that locks of hair fell into his face. "I could've gotten away sooner."
"You are not the villain here, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, taking both of Anakin's hands in his own. "Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise. Sidious did this to you. He wants you to think this is your fault. You can't let him have that victory over you."
"'S hard," Anakin choked out, holding onto Obi-Wan's hands now as if they were his last hope at remaining linked to this world.
"I know," Obi-Wan whispered, wishing he had more to say, but unsure what 'more' might entail. Sure, there were things, things in his mind that flew around like electrons in their cloud, going too fast to collide and form a coherent thought. Strings of advice that he wished he could give, and felt that he should, but knew all the same how anti-Jedi they all were.
But, Obi-Wan thought, as he looked down at Anakin, who still held onto Obi-Wan's hands as if he would be pulled from gravity and sucked into the vacuum of space if he let go, his eyes squeezed shut against nothing but his own pain – maybe that was just it. Maybe the thing that Anakin really did need was – was what Obi-Wan had told Padmé during that sunset café rendezvous. Love...
Anakin didn't need Obi-Wan to treat him like a Jedi. Anakin wasn't a Jedi. Not now. What Anakin was, however, besides a friend and family member and loving partner, was a vulnerable man who had faced death too many times in too short a lifetime. Who had escaped enslavement twice, each time worse than the last. Who was always there when someone needed him to be. Who loved so deeply, and who had always expected and needed to be loved just as intensely in return.
Carefully prying his left hand out of Anakin's mechno, Obi-Wan moved to the edge of the bed, gently pulling Anakin in closer to him. Anakin seemed to melt into him, reclaiming his hand and instead twisting it in Obi-Wan's tunic, placing his head high on Obi-Wan's chest. Anakin curled in on himself against Obi-Wan, his shuddering gasps gradually turning to breathy sobs, as Obi-Wan folded his arms around his friend, securing him there, feeling Anakin's shaky weight press them both into the soft pillows and sheets.
"It's all right," Obi-Wan whispered into Anakin's hair, feeling hot tears wetting his collar, sliding down his neck. He felt his own eyes sting. The Force was lit up like an explosion and he tried not to flinch. "Don't hold anything back. Just let it out."
In the haze of the next morning, they didn't say anything to each other, but they didn't need to. Anakin seemed drained, more complacent, similar to how he appeared after a seizure, and was content to sink back into his pillows and wait for time to start passing again. Obi-Wan sat quietly beside him, eating a light breakfast after Anakin had declined one, trying to think of how they would proceed from here.
After not too long, the doctor from the previous evening poked her head in through the door.
"You're awake – may I?" she said, and Obi-Wan gestured her in. She looked at Anakin and smiled. "How are you feeling?" Anakin just shrugged, and wouldn't meet her eyes. She pulled over a chair and sat near Obi-Wan, who put aside the empty tray and almost unconsciously reached for Anakin's hand. It was the metal one, so Anakin didn't seem to mind the contact.
"I'll be to the point," Dr. Bhel said. "I understand if you're hesitant to move forward after last night, but I would like to know if you might be willing to try again." She paused, looking at both men. "Now, I've spoken with another member of the healing staff, Dr. Broca, who has a particular interest in psychology. Since the war started escalating, she has spent less time practicing Force healing and more working with the Jedi with certain mental health issues that tend to have a stigma within the Jedi Order. It wasn't her main field of study while she was in training, there is no other in the temple as qualified to diagnose and treat trauma-related mental illnesses. The only other option would be seeing a therapist outside of the temple, but, well..."
She cut off for a moment, looking somewhat flushed. "But I believe that because of the extenuating circumstances of your case – meaning, well, the involvement of the Sith – I just don't think the Jedi Council would approve of outside counseling in this situation."
Obi-Wan glanced down at Anakin, who was staring, expressionless, out the window. "Is that something you would be willing to do, Anakin?" At the sound of his name, Anakin looked back at Obi-Wan. He shrugged again, halfhearted.
"We don't want to pressure you into it," Dr. Bhel said, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder who the we in that sentence was supposed to be. "It's certainly atypical for a Jedi to go to therapy. But medications and the Force can only go so far when most of the damage exists in memories."
"Or lack thereof," Anakin murmured.
"Indeed," she said, looking sympathetic. "It would be a journey, and a learning experience for the both of you. But without her help – that is, without any sort of therapy – then your recovery could likely come to a standstill. It's amazing how much talking things out can really help."
Obi-Wan rubbed his beard with his free hand. "What do you plan to do about the physical symptoms?"
"That," Dr. Bhel said apologetically, "Is where the brain scan comes in. I absolutely do not feel comfortable giving any firm diagnosis without first looking at everything available to us, and I can't give you any medications without a diagnosis. And, without medications, the migraines and the seizures are going to continue to be as crippling and painful as they were from day one. We need to do a brain scan."
She fell into silence, and both she and Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin for a response. After a minute, Obi-Wan shook the metal hand just a bit. "Anakin?"
Anakin bit his lip, thinking, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. "I don't want to feel like this anymore."
"So will you let us give you a brain scan?" Dr. Bhel asked gently, leaning in.
There was another long pause. Obi-Wan could see the same cloudy fear in Anakin's eyes, and could feel the same thing in the Force. Nevertheless, Anakin gave a slow and thoughtful nod, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel himself buzz with pride.
It went smoothly, this time. Anakin was still tense, anxious, but managed to keep his cool during the brief procedure. When they went to take blood, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, waiting for it to end. When they went over the pills they wanted him to try, he nodded, not really listening, so they addressed Obi-Wan directly, instead.
And finally, it was over. They were back to their quarters by early afternoon, with Anakin agreeing to come back to meet a counselor – mostly, Obi-Wan thought, so he could get out as soon as he could. Anakin retreated into his room, and Obi-Wan let himself relax with a cup of tea, unable to think of anything other than how relieved he was.
Everything was going to clear up. Everything was going to be better. He didn't know it to be true, but...he had faith. Faith in Anakin, and faith in the will of the Force. And that was enough.
"I'll be honest, Obi-Wan," Mace said, staring pensive through the blinds of Yoda's windows with his elbows on his knees, "I cannot make sense of why you're doing this. What is it that makes you want to dedicate your entire life to Skywalker for the second time over?"
It was two days after the eventful trip to the medbay, and Obi-Wan stared at Mace like he had never seen him before. "I'll be honest, Master," he replied coolly, "I fail to see how anyone who has trained a Padawan could possibly need to ask that question."
"Masters do not equate to parents," Mace said, raising an eyebrow at him. "It's no longer your responsibility to care for Skywalker as you had to years ago. If ever there was a time for you to finally let him go, it would be now." He sighed. "But as usual, you've done the opposite."
Obi-Wan looked at the floor. "I do not regret the choices that I have made."
Mace paused, then said, "If you're trying to atone for any mistakes you think you made with him in the past, there's no reason to do so. He doesn't remember you, and he possibly never will."
"My caring for my Padawan is not based on what he can give me in return," Obi-Wan said. "Mace, if you don't understand now, then you never will. I'm not doing this because I feel the need to. I'm doing it because I want to, and it is as simple as that."
"And if he gets worse?" Mace questioned. "Are you prepared to commit to him so fully?"
Obi-Wan thought about that for a moment, but truthfully he need not. The answer was, he already had committed himself, completely and entirely. And no, he thought, he would not take back a single day, given the chance. "Respectfully, Master, I will not abandon him to the will of the Council, no matter how long this process takes."
Finally, Yoda opened his eyes. "Careful you must be, Obi-Wan," he said slowly. "In a dark place, Skywalker is. To darker places yet, he may go. Affect even you, it could, if loosen your attachment to him you do not."
But the thing was, Obi-Wan thought, that despair, that prevailing veil of darkness already had affected him. It still was, and it would continue to, indefinitely. But if he stopped now, then Anakin would be left in the darkness, alone, left to his own devices and...he hated to even imagine it, but back into the hands of the Sith. Obi-Wan would, quite honesty, give his life before he gave Anakin to the dark.
"Have you ever thought," he said, distant, to Yoda and Mace, "Whether attachment itself may be the will of the Force? That the reason it is so hard to let go is because we've got it all wrong?"
Mace looked at him with something in his eyes that, in the murky light, was not quite irritation. "The Jedi Order has flourished for over a thousand years because of our principles. The Jedi themselves hold discipline in the highest esteem, and it is with that discipline which we vanquish our attachment."
"The Order is not flourishing, Mace," Obi-Wan said quietly. "We're generals in an army that the galaxy does not approve of. You hear it every day; the public does not believe in us as they once did. The Jedi have stagnated but the galaxy has move on. The Force itself is changing. The Sith adapted to that, but we haven't. How else could they have resurfaced without us having any clue at all until they personally revealed themselves to us?"
He leaned over and ran a hand over his beard. "Ahsoka had said something to me, months ago. That the Jedi instruct their young to release their attachments, but they don't say how. I had never thought about it, but she's right. We repeat the mantra, release your anger, your fear, your attachment, through meditation and discipline, and while that works for a great many of us, the fact is that not every Jedi seems to be able to put it into practice, which gives the Sith every advantage over us. We ship out Jedi that have not been fully trained in either the Force or their own emotions, and as a result we have now have need for a trauma counselor in the healing ward." He took a sharp breath to steady himself. "Anakin was twenty years old when we first sent him out to war. Ahsoka was fourteen. How much longer until all the adults have been killed and we have an army exclusively comprised of Padawans that have not been adequately trained in our antiquated rituals?"
"Our predecessors defeated the Sith once using the principles that we stand by now," Windu said, his brow bone frowning more than his mouth. "The Sith have many advantages over us, but our tradition is not one. What you call 'antiquated rituals' will lead the galaxy to peace once again. Otherwise we might as well have stopped trying long ago."
"Ideas can't change the galaxy, Master," Obi-Wan countered. "Only the actions of individuals can do that. You can say that we will have peace as many times as you'd like but that doesn't make it any more true. This war is tearing the galaxy apart and it is our duty to end it. Perhaps it is only cynicism but I do not believe that we can do what you say we can in our present state.
"Unfortunate are the circumstances of war, but much choice we do not have," Yoda said, looking weary. "Time it is not to make these changes you seek. Not now, not during this war. In the future, maybe, but agree with Master Windu I do, that we must let the Force show us a way to peace."
Obi-Wan had to fight the urge to clench his fists, and his jaw. "Mace, Master Yoda, you know how much respect I have for the both of you, but sometimes..." He sighed, sharply. "Someday, you might try opening your eyes and looking outside the Force for answers. And preferably sooner, rather than later, or we might just give up our only chance." With that, pushing himself to his feet, he left the room and wondered if he had overstepped his bounds.
Just this once, though...he found that he simply didn't much care.