Chapter 38: Dreams Pass in Time
The next few days were far better.
Obi-Wan returned to his studies and rejoined his peers in classes. It was difficult at first because they all wanted to either express their sympathies or ask for details. Obi-Wan thanked those who passed on sympathies and gave a cold shoulder to all who asked for details.
More importantly, to Obi-Wan's relief, was Qui-Gon's more attentive presence. Obi-Wan no longer hung out as much with Anakin or Jedi Kenobi. He joined Qui-Gon on meditations, exercise, lightsaber practices and also Force training.
All the sorrow he felt earlier in the week smoldered and disappeared the more he spent time with Qui-Gon. On occasion, he would catch Qui-Gon ruminating and feel a wave of sorrow through their bond. Sometimes, an old memory of Tahl fluttered through into Obi-Wan and he would know Qui-Gon was thinking of her. Seeing Tahl sometimes brought pain, but like Anakin said, he learned to accept those feelings before releasing them into the Force.
But, today, there were no tears or old memories. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon finished their sparring match and his master complimented Obi-Wan on his swordsmanship, surprised by the vast improvement in his fighting skills. Obi-Wan humbly accepted the praise, but mostly gave it to Anakin for his vigorous training. Qui-Gon smiled.
"He's quite the demanding teacher."
Obi-Wan thought. "Not so much as teaching, but to winning," he replied. "He likes to win."
That made Qui-Gon chuckle. "Of course."
They trekked back to their apartment, arriving in time to hear Anakin curse so loudly that it would have made Master Yoda speechless. But, it was normal for them. Ever since Anakin restarted his droid project, every now and then, they would catch him cursing. While Jedi Kenobi didn't seemed bothered, it took Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan a bit more time to adjust to Anakin's sometimes foul language.
Obi-Wan swept over to where Anakin tinkered with his droid—the designated space that Qui-Gon bestowed to him. No droid parts or tools were to be seen elsewhere in the apartment. Obi-Wan looked at the fine tuning Anakin was making on the droid's circuits, impressed with the wiring. "How did you manage to do that?"
Anakin was smug. "It's easy."
"I know a few things about re-wiring," Obi-Wan said, not pleased with Anakin's condescending attitude. "That's not easy."
"It is if you know your machines."
"Stop patronizing the boy, Anakin," called Jedi Kenobi, his eyes on the holopad in his hands. "Teach him instead."
"Yes, Master," Anakin dutifully replied and he pulled Obi-Wan down to his knees. "Okay—you see these wires?"
Anakin gave Obi-Wan a thirty minute crash course before having him set up new wires into the droid (with Anakin's supervision). A few attempts, Obi-Wan completed his first work on rewiring the droid to do a different task than it originally was supposed to do. He smiled, quite pleased with his accomplishment.
"What did I do?" Obi-Wan asked Anakin. "Does it shoot bolts now?"
"A Jedi does not crave action, padawan," Jedi Kenobi again spoke over his holopad.
Anakin gave a little snort in Jedi Kenobi's direction. "Says the person who dives out of hundred story buildings."
Obi-Wan snapped a look of mortification and amazement at Jedi Kenobi. The older Knight lowered his holopad, an ill-advised expression compressing his features, before waving a hand in Anakin's direction. Anakin tipped over, but grabbed the wall to stop the immediate fall.
All of this happened just in time for Qui-Gon to re-enter the common room, witnessing it all. "The Force is not used for petty revenge, padawan," Qui-Gon scolded as he plucked the holopad from Jedi Kenobi's hands. "You should know better than that."
Jedi Kenobi's face softened and reddened in embarrassment as Anakin covered his chuckle with quick coughs. "My apologies, Master," said Jedi Kenobi in a quiet, ashamed voice of a far younger man. "It's not the Jedi way."
Qui-Gon sat down, glancing over the holopad. Then, Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure what it was, but a rumbling disrupted the peaceful flow in the atmosphere. He glanced to the main source and saw a deep frown distorting his master's normally calm face.
"Why are you reading about Serreno?" Qui-Gon probed Jedi Kenobi, suppressing his flickering anger.
"Oh… it's a bit of light reading." Jedi Kenobi didn't look at all disturbed by Qui-Gon souring mood.
"Light reading?"
Anakin put his tool down, looking over at the two. He looked unnerved. Perhaps, he too felt discord in the Force.
Jedi Kenobi leaned comfortably in his position on the couch. "I was interested in its stance within the Republic," he responded to the criticism. "I'm educating myself in Galactic Affairs."
Qui-Gon held the holopad in a heavy manner. "Who did you speak to recently?"
Obi-Wan was baffled by Qui-Gon's interrogation, coming up to them. "What's wrong Master? What's happening with Serreno?"
His master quickly turned the holopad off and tucked it away in his robes. "Nothing. There's nothing happening there," he said. "Just curious as to what brought it to his attention." Qui-Gon roamed an eye over Obi-Wan's appearance. "You should wash up and change. You cannot be late to your Astronomical class."
Obi-Wan groaned. He had forgotten that he had that class today. It's his least favorite. Why bother learning how to manually locate planets when there were droids to do such work? Besides, there were thousands of different technologies that could also help locate and compute the distances between planets. It didn't need to be solved manually.
"Don't pout Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon disapproved. "Or it may be permanent."
"Yes, Master." And, Obi-Wan dragged himself into the fresher. He would rather go sparring with Anakin again than attend another Astronomical class.
In an hour's time, Obi-Wan found himself seated along with fellow Padawans, including Siri and Garen. Garen happily retold his grand moments on the pilot simulator, commenting how the instructor praised his skills and suggested enrolling with the Jedi Flight program.
"You're thinking about doing it?" Obi-Wan asked his friend.
Garen nodded. "Yeah—I enjoy piloting, being up with the stars."
"And crash landings."
Garen nudged Obi-Wan in the ribs. "Of course you would disapprove. You hate flying."
"I'm not fond of it," Obi-Wan agreed, rubbing his ribs. "But… I'm sure you will be an excellent pilot, Garen. Probably one of the best."
Garen's mouth pulled back in a wide smile. "I will be the best. I'll be the best star pilot anyone has ever seen."
"Of course… and I'll be wiser than Master Yoda and more powerful than Master Windu."
Garen shoved Obi-Wan almost completely out of his seat, causing a minor disruption in class. Their instructor wasn't too pleased. She called Obi-Wan out and forced him to sit in front of the class to keep an eye on him. Obi-Wan settled in his new seat and was even more bored than he was without Garen next to him. He tried his best to stay on top of it, completing problems correctly and accurately answering a question thrown at him.
He ladled his head in his hand and scribbled down the lessons their instructor. His eyes kept fluttering, tired from the lightsaber practices with his master. It was not ideal to do a hard workout before a very boring class. He tried to keep himself alert by focusing on writing down all that was taught. But, every effort he made got him more tired until his eyes finally slipped to a close.
Or at least, he thought they closed.
The classroom setting turned into a dark and dank corridor built of rugged stone blocks. Hardly a flicker of light except for where he stood. Soft sounds of a hum echoed down the stretch of the corridor, but it was not a whimsical kind. It was harsh and heavy, and it brought bumps to rise on Obi-Wan's arms. Obi-Wan stepped back, the light flickering with his movement. He had to go… he had to…
He turned to step away when he fell.
Right out of his seat.
He jerked back in surprise, his eyes meeting all those bewildered glances from fellow padawans as the instructor swooped to his desk. "Padawan Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan pulled himself back up to his seat. "Sorry, Master," he apologized. "Slipped off my seat."
Master Naho wasn't convinced. "You look ill, padawan."
Oh no. Not to the healer's prison camp. Nope. "I feel very well, Master."
"You're pale and sweating, padawan."
Obi-Wan reached up and touched his forehead, feeling the slick coat of sweat. "Oh… I feel fine though."
"Padawan—"
"I'm fine." Obi-Wan said between his teeth, mortally embarrassed by the sudden attention on him.
Master Naho's gaze lingered for a little before he returned to the lesson. Obi-Wan stared directly at the teacher, avoiding everyone's eyes looking right at him. When the lesson ended, Obi-Wan was the first one to reach the doors and meet up with Jedi Kenobi. Before Jedi Kenobi could even ask, Obi-Wan dragged him away from the doors to the turbolift to avoid any mentions of his fainting spell.
"You feeling all right?" Jedi Kenobi said, concerned and looking over him. "You look a bit pale."
"Oh… it was a bit warm in that classroom," Obi-Wan shrugged, nonchalantly. "I feel fine."
When they returned to their apartments, Obi-Wan spotted Anakin still working away on his droid. It was nearly complete. The body of the astromech droid was intact and covered in a red and white stripe plates. Only the dome was off and Anakin had his hands buried deep in wires.
Qui-Gon was not in the apartment. That meant only one thing: he was meditating in the gardens.
And he wanted to be alone.
Obi-Wan understood. It's been almost two weeks since Tahl died and, while Qui-Gon was doing better, he still needed time for himself to reflect on Tahl's death.
During those times of solitude and reflection, Obi-Wan received private lessons from either Anakin or Jedi Kenobi. Anakin instructed him in either technology or lightsaber techniques. Jedi Kenobi was less strenuous with his lessons. He sat Obi-Wan down at table with their old Dejarik board. And, that's all Jedi Kenobi would do with him. They would sit across from each other and play Dejarik. Obi-Wan enjoyed the game, but he found Jedi Kenobi a challenging partner. Every move he made seemed like three steps behind Jedi Kenobi. Like the master knew his every thought and strategy. It made sense as Jedi Kenobi was him. But, it was frustrating to keep losing. Obi-Wan tried to every strategy to get around Jedi Kenobi's pawns, but it was nearly impossible. Jedi Kenobi was too good.
And that night while Qui-Gon was away, Jedi Kenobi sat him down at the table to play. Obi-Wan didn't exactly know the reasons why Jedi Kenobi insisted on playing the game. He never changed his lessons. It was always Dejarik. Obi-Wan figured there was a point and he would one day figure it out. Perhaps when he won a game.
They played two games and Obi-Wan was soundly beaten. While he reviewed the game, dejected with his losses, he was thankful that Jedi Kenobi never paraded his win or acted smug. He treated his wins in humble spirit. He didn't care. Jedi Kenobi never did care if he won or not.
"All right," Jedi Kenobi put the game away. "Bed."
"I'm not tired," Obi-Wan protested.
"You will be in the morning if you don't go to sleep," Jedi Kenobi pointed out and he nudged the boy to the fresher. "Besides, you weren't looking to well earlier."
Obi-Wan released a long sigh and grumbled. "I'm fine. It was the heat. They cranked it too high up there."
Anakin stopped working on the droid. "You're ill?"
"I'm not ill!"
"He was a bit off-color when I picked him up earlier today," Jedi Kenobi said to Anakin.
Obi-Wan's fingers curled into a fist. "I'm not ill!"
"Should we get one of the healers to check?" Anakin asked in a comical manner, ignoring Obi-Wan.
"Not necessary," Jedi Kenobi insisted quickly. "A bit of color returned. A good night sleep should be fine… if he goes to bed now."
Obi-Wan glared back at his older self, feeling betrayed and slightly bullied. He wanted to argue, but he knew it would only fall on deaf ears. So, he marched away from them and readied himself to bed. Once settled in his bed, he lazily used the Force to turn off his lights and covered himself on his bed.
He knew it would be awhile before he fell asleep, so he pictured a Dejarik board and tried to play from memory. He worked up a few new strategies that may stump Jedi Kenobi on their next round of Dejarik. As he pictured the board, he heard a noise outside his door.
Obi-Wan lifted his head and listened closely. The voices were muffled and he could hardly hear them. He got off his bed and moved to his door, throwing his shields up to hide his presence. He tiptoed closer, but it was still hard to hear. And, he didn't recognize the voices at all.
Curious, Obi-Wan opened his door and hoped no one heard the soft hiss. He stepped out of his shadowy bedroom and… entered the Archives.
That wasn't right. How did he get from his bedroom to the Archives? He looked around, seeing nothing and no one—only rows upon rows of light up holocrons and holopads of information. Quietly, Obi-Wan stepped forward and made his way down the aisles of holocrons. His eyes gazed over the small cubes, merely observing as he held no significant interest in them. Yet, at the same time, he felt an urge to pick one up from the shelf. To hold it in his hand and obtain the knowledge inside the metal box. He continued down the aisle, still unsure of the exact location in the Archives. He's never seen these aisles or objects before in the Archives. And holocrons were typically kept in a more secured area, so how was he able to be standing next to them?
A draft of cold air whipped around him, startling Obi-Wan for a second. He stopped moving, glancing around to determine he was indeed alone. Taking a deep breath, he began his walk when his eye caught site of a particular holocron. It wasn't like the other holocrons he spotted amongst the shelves. Its shape was different. Pyramidal and a shade darker than the others. Curiosity grew and his conscious demanded answers. Obi-Wan reached up and plucked the holocron from its rightful spot. He turned it over, his fingers grazing the black metal. As he examined it, a light filtered through the gaps of the holocron. A crimson glow seeped out and lit up in Obi-Wan's eyes.
Obi-Wan immediately understood what he held. A Sith holocron. Rumored objects the Jedi Temple held in the depths of the Temple. Supposedly locked away from sight and kept secret to protect the galaxy.
And here, Obi-Wan held it in his palms. The red light bursting and growing brighter as a strong, dark murmur hummed. He felt the holocron pulse and Obi-Wan immediately dropped it.
The holocron fell with a loud clank. It didn't roll away or deactivate. The red glare remained and the murmurs echoed in Obi-Wan's ears.
Obi-Wan's knees wobbled, unsteady as he went to move away from the holocron.
His escape was thwarted, however, by a pair of strong, gloved hands. They dropped on his shoulder, holding him in place and preventing any chance to escape. No matter how much Obi-Wan tried to throw off its grip, the hands held and never yielded.
A Jedi does not know fear.
The words were whispered in silky waves. An enticement that made Obi-Wan stop thrashing. The person holding him spoke again, its breath close to his ears with sounds of promises.
Open it.
Obi-Wan glanced at the pulsing holocron again. The voice grew stronger, encouraging it to be released. It would be so easy to open it, but Obi-Wan knew to not fall prey. He would not touch that holocron.
He shook his head. "I won't."
Do it!
Obi-Wan refused. "I won't."
And, suddenly, his throat constricted. An invisible force wrapped around his neck, effectively cutting off his air supply and threatening to break his trachea. His hands reached for the neck, his lightsaber all forgotten as he struggled to breathe or even call out for help. The hands dug harder into his shoulder, nails piercing right through his under-tunics to his skin.
As the air depleted and his throat in great pain, Obi-Wan reached out through his Force-bond to the one person who could save him.
Qui-Gon!
"I'm here, padawan," Qui-Gon's voice entered the training room. "I'm here. Wake up."
Obi-Wan was confused and in his befuddlement, he blinked rapidly to find that he did not stand in the Archives. He didn't even go anywhere. He was still in his bed, trembling and drenched, with Qui-Gon seated on the edge of his bed, hands on Obi-Wan's arms. He peered down at his young padawan, looking troubled.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, much softer than before. "Obi-Wan, can you hear me?"
Obi-Wan nodded and now only noticed that Anakin and Jedi Kenobi were in his room as well. Jedi Kenobi stared at him completely unfazed while Anakin stood awkwardly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Like he too was in as much pain as Obi-Wan felt.
Qui-Gon released a long sigh of relief and pulled out a small cloth from his pocket. "You're all right," he asked, gently patting Obi-Wans glistening forehead. "Bad dream?"
"No—I mean… yes," Obi-Wan pulled himself in to a more sitting position on the bed. He had no idea how much he sweated, but it left wet patches all over his blanket. "It was only a nightmare."
Qui-Gon didn't buy it. "You were screaming, Obi-Wan," he said, "and then you started choking."
Breathing problems? It was real then. He was being choked to death in the dream and reality. "I-I don't know what I saw," he said to all three Jedi Knights in his room. "It was only a dream."
"Not a dream," Anakin spoke up. "A Force vision more like it."
Jedi Kenobi silently agreed with a firm nod. "Was that what happened in class?"
Qui-Gon shot a surprised look to Jedi Kenobi. "It happened earlier today?" he asked, clearly upset. "Why was I not notified?"
"Because it was nothing," Obi-Wan insisted, cheeks warming from embarrassment. They looked on at him with pity. "I only overheated in class. Not a big deal."
"And what's your reason for this?" Jedi Kenobi challenged. Suddenly, it almost felt like they were playing Dejarik again. "Dreams pass in time, but your reaction was more than that of a dream."
"He had a vision," Anakin repeated.
"It was nothing!" Obi-Wan said louder in hopes his words got through to all three of them. It was an overheated classroom and a simple nightmare. Not a Force vision or whatever. It couldn't be that. It wasn't that at all. It wouldn't happen!
Qui-Gon placed a hand on Obi-Wan's sticky forehead. "You're burning up, my padawan," he said, dropping his hand. "And the room is cold. I don't think this was a nightmare."
"Force vision," Anakin called out again.
Obi-Wan vehemently shook his head in denial. "It's not a Force vision. It was only a dream."
"And what happened in this dream?" Qui-Gon prompted and Obi-Wan knew that there was no way he could get the Jedi to leave unless he told them his dream.
Obi-Wan didn't go into greater details. He gave what was necessary and somewhat added details on certain things like the voice. Every second he took to tell them of his dream, he watched the color drain out of Anakin's face and Jedi Kenobi fall into a pensive stare, stroking the tip of his chin in dire thought. Qui-Gon listened intensely, his kind features hardening as the dream unfold.
When Obi-Wan finished, the three Jedi were silent. Each analyzing and interpreting the dream to their own accord. It would be a long minute before Qui-Gon requested Obi-Wan to follow him out of the bedroom.
"Why Master?" Obi-Wan asked, uncertain for the reason of the change. He had no intentions of going to the healers. He would rather face a ship full of pirates than a single healer.
"I'm taking you to the healers," Qui-Gon informed his suddenly very ill padawan. "I fear the fever may make you worse and I would like for them to do a mind healing."
Obi-Wan propped up, alert with an anxious bite in his words. "I'm fine, Master. I promise! I don't… I don't need to see the healers."
"Obi-Wan…"
"I swear, Master! I promise you. It was only a dream. Nothing more."
Qui-Gon carefully eyed his padawan. Obi-Wan could see him thinking, contemplating the situation. "I would feel more comfortable if you visited the healers," he finally said, "but… if you do not think the healers are necessary, then perhaps a cup of tea may help."
That was far better than the healers. Obi-Wan agreed and slipped out of his bed, joining his Master at the table. Qui-Gon went to the kitchen and made a pot of tea while Jedi Kenobi and Anakin sat at the table as well. Anakin was anxious. He kept twiddling his fingers, always moving while Jedi Kenobi stayed eerily quiet. Was it possible that he saw it all? Perhaps once before?
Qui-Gon returned with two mugs. One for him and the other for Obi-Wan. The boy accepted the drink happily, eager for the contents to warm himself up. He needed to lose that chilling memory. He took a large drink, nearly emptying half of his mug.
The tea flowed easily down his throat—smooth like water running over a polished rock. His belly warmed and all the ice in his veins thawed. He relaxed in his seat, happy to have avoided the healers. He took another small sip of his tea as a bout of drossiness overcame him. It was late. And the dream didn't help him rest. He looked across the table and saw Jedi Kenobi's steady eyes on him, almost like he was sadly waiting.
Obi-Wan parted his lips to ask when his muscles began weakened. The mug got heavier and he was forced to drop it onto the table. His fingers tingled and his mind befuddled. His vision spotted and eyelids drooped to a close. Obi-Wan's head bowed and he got a good view of his tea when he realized the truth.
"Master…" he grumbled and he nearly slumped out of his seat until Qui-Gon caught his arm and hoisted him back up.
"Relax," Qui-Gon's voice gently probed Obi-Wan's mental shields.
Quite suddenly, a strong Force-suggestion smashed into Obi-Wan's shields and he succumbed to its mercy. His eyes drifted to a final close. The last words he heard before he was shut down were Jedi Kenobi's.
"Was that really necessary?"
Healer Tiri was on duty that night and quickly set Obi-Wan Kenobi straight to the back for a quick check-up. She called in a specialized mind healer—Healer Javor—to assess and assist Obi-Wan. Healer Javor examined the unconscious padawan.
Once the examination was done, both healers divulged to Qui-Gon their diagnosis.
"I would like for him to stay overnight and until mid-morning," Healer Javor said. "This dream or vision seared his mind. Thus, the reason for the fever. Do you disagree Master Tiri?"
"I agree," Healer Tiri affirmed with a nod. "Inflammation in his brain is the reason for the rising temperature. I suggest a healing crystal. It will decrease the inflammation and relive the fever. He'll be feeling better by morning."
Qui-Gon agreed to it all. "Yes—that all sounds good," he said. "But, I must ask. Is this a normal occurrence?"
Healer Tiri flipped through the file in her hand. "Obi-Wan Kenobi… he's not immune to Force visions. As a youngling, he suffered from many visions," she said with a single glance. "Many who experience Force visions tend to suffer from small bouts of illness. Fever, nausea or chills. Nothing too serious.
"So to answer your question directly," Healer Tiri looked back to Qui-Gon, "this is normal. Even for your padawan. I'll give him the crystal. Master Javor will monitor him during the night for assurance purposes."
Qui-Gon dipped his head in gratitude and left his padawan in their care. They took his young padawan to a secured location, one with no windows and guarded closely by Healer Tiri for it was positioned right next to her office.
He returned to the apartment and was not at all surprised to see Anakin and Jedi Kenobi in deep discussion. As to the subject matter, he didn't need to hear a single word to know it was about Obi-Wan.
Anakin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "How is he?"
Qui-Gon sighed and trudged over to the couches. "A mild fever," Qui-Gon told the duo. "His brain is inflamed, but a good night sleep shall make it better."
"They agree it was not nightmare then?"
"They said nothing of the sort," Qui-Gon said. "They only told me that Obi-Wan suffered from Force visions before and that it was normal for a fever to follow after experiencing a vision. They did not say either or."
Anakin flashed a look to Jedi Kenobi. "You never said you suffered from visions before, Master."
Jedi Kenobi barely raised his eyes from its original place. "You never asked," he murmured. "As a padawan, I had many visions due to my strong connection with the Unifying Force. Some more powerful than others." Jedi Kenobi leaned back, a hand running through his hair that left a few strands of red hang about his forehead. "He'll get through it. He'll learn to accept them as possibilities rather than absolutes."
"And, do you find this to be a possibility or an absolute?" Qui-Gon asked in regards to the description the padawan gave to them upon awakening from his nightmare vision.
"A warning," Jedi Kenobi replied, full earnest. "To not only him but all of us. All decisions are precise and dangerous. Our path has narrowed. Any slip or wandering may lead us right off."
Qui-Gon fell onto the couch, wiping his large hand over his face. "A caution all should know," he muttered. "But… let us not focus on the uncertainty."
"So, you want to ignore it then?" Anakin questioned, though it sounded far more like an accusation.
"Dreams pass in time."
"Doesn't mean it won't happen," Anakin argued. "I suffer from visions and all of them have come true. Every single one of them."
"Visions are fickle," Qui-Gon responded. "They are not absolutes. And they distract one from the present moment. Focusing above will only blind what's in front of you."
Anakin crossed his arms. It was quite clear he didn't agree with such statement. From Qui-Gon's perception, Anakin thrived off trying to prevent outcomes rather than learning to overcome them.
"It is late," Qui-Gon announced to the Knights and he rose off the couch. "I am heading to bed and getting my peace and quiet before Obi-Wan wakes up and discovers the duplicity."
"You will need the last bit of peace you can get," Jedi Kenobi agreed. "He will not be kind when he wakes."
"Doesn't mean he will not be intolerable," Qui-Gon deflected. "A good reminder will set him right if need be."
"You shouldn't have tricked him."
Qui-Gon evenly stared at Jedi Kenobi. "I sense resentment. Do I often employ duplicity against you?"
"No, Master," Jedi Kenobi responded quickly and embarrassed, "but I—he—trusts you. And abusing that trust… it's not a kindness." Jedi Kenobi flashed a quick look to Anakin. A look that Qui-Gon knew held some kind of meeting. Anakin's brows tightened and eyes slightly tight when he met Jedi Kenobi's eyes. Jedi Kenobi sighed. "What I'm saying is—"
"I understand my padawan," Qui-Gon interrupted, effectively silencing Jedi Kenobi. "Trust is a delicate matter. But, so is life. What's the point of your mission or my oath if I allow him to go unwell? If his illness turns south and he passes into the Force? What good then?"
"Drugging—"
"Was the only way to get him to go to the Halls of Healing," Qui-Gon finished. "You must have forgotten, but he's not a fan of healers. He would have put up a much harder fight than what you witnessed."
Anakin snorted, which earned him two glares. "Sorry," he muttered.
Qui-Gon half turned from the group. "I am heading back to bed. Do not stay up too late," he said over his shoulder. "We have work to do tomorrow."
Qui-Gon strode down the corridor back to his quiet room where plants tucked on the window's ledge bowed from the lack of light. He took off his shoes and changed into his sleepwear. While he did what he must to save his padawan, he knew Jedi Kenobi had a point. Trust was delicate. A single hit and all crumbled into dust. But, this wasn't a big betrayal. Nothing too bad that it couldn't be mended.
For better or worse, Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan was attached to him. The boy craved his attention and assurance. The boy was loyal to a fault. He questioned some of the choices and ethics Qui-Gon followed, but the boy always followed through on his commands. Perhaps not in the exact manner instructed, but the boy delivered. Always.
Yes, a small trickery would certainly ruffle the boy tomorrow morning, but it would not destroy their friendship. Obi-wan cared too much. A fault that Master Yoda and others warned him about.
He reclined on his bed, thinking about his padawan and, of course, the dream he witnessed. The Sith Lord wanted something from the Archives. Something that may relate to his need to kill Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon heavily sighed. Yes. Tomorrow they had a lot of work to do.
Obi-Wan was not very pleased.
When he woke up the following morning and found himself strapped on a healing cot and Healer Tiri looking over his vitals, he remembered the treachery. He growled and insisted to Healer Tiri he was quite well and that perhaps he should mentally sound check Qui-Gon.
Healer Tiri clicked his tongue on such a harsh comment. "You should be thankful, padawan," he retorted. "Master Jinn saved you. You suffered from an inflammation of the brain. You may have been unwell for far much longer than one night if Master Jinn waited."
That did not make Obi-Wan feel any better. He sensed the idle threat in the healer's words. "My gratitude will be overwhelming then when he arrives."
And, Healer Tiri clearly saw through his words. "Once a brat, always a brat," he quoted. "Thank the Force you're not my padawan."
"Agreed."
Healer Tiri abandoned his post to care for other patients, leaving Obi-Wan to his own thoughts and meditations. Bored, Obi-Wan looked around and spotted a few objects across the room. His mind craving for excitement, Obi-Wan used the Force to steady the first object into the air.
The small glass floated effortlessly in the air. With little concentration, Obi-Wan flipped the cup, making it perform somersaults in the air. The next to join the little show was a pen—left behind by Healer Tiri. The dark pen zoomed around the empty cup like a starpilot in outer space, circling a planet. Obi-Wan rose the objects higher and closer to the ceiling. Reckless and juvenile perhaps, but being confined to a healing cot with no instructions or release left Obi-Wan in an anxious predicament.
Only the telekinetic display distracted him from his anxieties.
"That's a frivolous use of the Force."
The voice of his Master jolted Obi-Wan. He lost control of the objects and the fell, plummeting to the floor. Until Qui-Gon called for the Force and floated the cup and pen to its original space. Once settled, Qui-Gon looked back to his padawan.
"I see you are feeling better," said Qui-Gon, showing no disproval for Obi-Wan's little display.
Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "You betrayed me."
"Do not be melodramatic," Qui-Gon waved his hand. He moved quietly to the cot, taking a seat on the edge. His eyes gazed down, soft and kind and relieved. "You had a fever and your stubbornness prevented you from seeking treatment. I did what I must to help you."
"By backstabbing me."
"If you were not so ill, my padawan," Qui-Gon replied, still calm. "You would have sensed my deceit before taking the tea so readily."
And this was why Qui-Gon was a Jedi Master. He knew how to easily maneuver himself on that small balanced line of trust and lies. Obedience and defiance. Easy and Hard. He knew every single balance, recognized and manipulated it as the Force commanded. Even now, when Obi-Wan felt he had the right to be upset, he couldn't scold his master. If he had been well, he would have sensed Qui-Gon's deception. Thus, Qui-Gon won the argument.
Yet, Obi-Wan wanted to remain bitter.
Qui-Gon frowned. "Acrimony is unbecoming, padawan," he pointed out. "To be a Jedi, you must learn to accept help and overcome your faults."
"Dreaming is a fault?" Obi-Wan muttered, defensive. "Master Yoda—"
"I'm not talking about your dreams, Obi-Wan. I'm talking about your refusal to visit healers when needed. You choose to ignore your health and for what purpose? To act strong?"
Obi-Wan caved into himself, wanting to bury into the blanket. He did not want to be having this discussion in such a hostile environment.
Qui-Gon had no patience for reclusiveness. "Padawan…"
Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm sorry, Master."
"I wasn't asking for an apology."
His master really wanted him to confess. A single glance and Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon could easily slip past his mental shields and read everything. He didn't though. He waited. He wanted to hear it from Obi-Wan. He wanted his padawan to confess willingly.
Obi-Wan was not in a confessing mood. He drew in a breath. "You know I have an aversion to such torture," he said, flicking a glance to the equipment in the room. "Even if nothing's wrong, they always find something… or make up something."
A flitted smile softened Qui-Gon's gaze. He placed his large hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, holding him up. "I pity the healers more than you, my very young apprentice," he said, cheekily. "Having you as a padawan is already a handful. You as a patient… yes, I suddenly have a great amount of respect to Healer Tiri."
Obi-Wan curled his nose and got out of his master's gentle hold. "I could be a lot worse Master."
A shadow flickered in Qui-Gon's light. An old feeling of remorse shuddered the bond and Obi-Wan felt suddenly ashamed. "Forgive me, Master," he said, remorseful. "I did not mean to—"
"You do not need to pay the price for sins of another, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon answered, his tired eyes looking at his hooked lightsaber. "Xanatos was his own person much like yourself. You are no way connected. You do not need carry his mistakes or burdens."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan picked at the ends of his sleeves. He waited a beat. "Master? Am I free to leave this dreary place?"
Qui-Gon drew in a long breath before nodding his head. "I was given permission to release you," he said, "though I was sworn to uphold a promise to ensure nothing too strenuous for the rest of the day."
Obi-Wan sagged. The Halls of Healing's tendrils stretch far outside their zone. "The price of freedom is always high, is it not?"
"Would you care to stay for another day?"
Obi-Wan threw back the blankets and dropped his legs over the cot. "Most certainly not."
Qui-Gon gently chuckled and guided his padawan out of the Halls of Healing where he caught a glimpse of Healer Tiri's warning glare. Nothing too strenuous. That was the bargain—or price—for his freedom. But, what would be labeled as strenuous? He could happily rest in meditation or feel calm practicing his lightsaber techniques. Running laps sometimes relaxed his anxieties.
He doubted the last two was what Healer Tiri labeled as rest.
Anakin tinkered with the droid again. He only had a few touch-ups to complete and the droid would soon be in working condition. Obi-Wan sat on the couch with a few holopads out on the table. He kept flickering through them, reading pieces here and there on the screen. On occasion, Anakin caught him stroking his jawline in deep thought. Obi-Wan was making a connection.
"Anything?" Anakin asked. After all, it was not him who had access to the highly secured vaults in the Archives. Those were under lock and key by the High Council. Only they had access to it. And, it just so happened that Obi-Wan was a member of that prestigious group.
So, Obi-Wan spent the better morning searching through information to figure out which holocron Dooku may be seeking. "I fear I'm not quite sure as of yet," Obi-Wan said. "There are quite a few holocrons."
"We can narrow it down to only Sith holocrons," Anakin said. "Younger you did say it was red. A description that fits with a Sith holocron."
"Yes, but which holocron? That's important," Obi-Wan switched out a holopad. "If we can figure it out, we may know what he's up to. What his overall game plan is."
"I thought it was to kill you?"
"I believe that may only be half of his plan," Obi-Wan answered, looking over his shoulder. "Did you get the chance to look at those sketches I drew?"
"You mean the youngling's drawing of a mechanical device?"
Obi-Wan frowned. "It's not that bad of a drawing."
Anakin gave him a look. "I know younglings who can draw better, Master," he said and he turned back to the droid. "But, to answer your question, I did look over the sketches."
Obi-Wan gave him a few drawings a blueprint he found at Dooku's lair. It was unfortunate Obi-Wan couldn't actually give him an original copy. All he had was from memory. And, even that was not really good enough.
"I wasn't able to get a solid answer," Anakin replied. "But, from the designs you provided. I would say a chip."
"What type of chip?"
Anakin shrugged. "Well, that's the problem. I can't tell the kind of chip based on the scribbles I received."
He could see how tempted Obi-Wan to throw a holopad at him. But, ever so noble and collective, Obi-Wan did not follow up on his desire. "At least we know it involves a chip," he said. "That may help narrow the holocron search. Possibly involving technology."
And that perked Anakin up. "Do you think he's trying to build another machine? The one to take him back to the future?"
"The thought did cross my mind," Obi-Wan answered. "After all, I would imagine he would not want to live here in these times forever. Even if he succeeds in killing my younger self."
Anakin stopped working on his droid and joined Obi-Wan on the couch. "So that's his plan then. He's trying to find a way back to travel to the future."
"A feat more dangerous than traveling to the past."
Anakin furrowed his brow, confused. "What do you mean, Master?"
Obi-Wan fell back in his seat, looking far more troubled than he did earlier. "The past is known. It's already been written. But the future—that's an entirely different matter. One cannot predict the future accurately. What has happened here since our arrival has greatly affected the future," Obi-Wan's eyes slide to look at Anakin. "Our future no longer exists."
And that single statement sent Anakin's heart into a might twist. What did it mean their future no longer existed? What did that mean for Padme? Was she all right? Gone? Or… would that mean he will never see her again?
"But… I thought we were going to go home. After saving you?" Anakin said. "You said—"
"I never said that we will go home," Obi-Wan countered. "Our past is different now, Anakin. That young padawan is not me anymore. He's going through trials I never experienced. Tahl died much earlier. Things are changing. Thus, our timeline is no longer there. Time… is not something you want to challenge. It always wins."
"But Dooku—"
"Is an arrogant sort," Obi-Wan answered, a high insult from a man who preferred to be above such pettiness. "He believes to be all powerful. It will only fail him. The future he will return to will be unrecognizable."
Anakin sunk further into the couch. Heart beating painfully in its caged ribs. Padme. Sweet, beautiful angel was out of reach. He wasn't going to return to her. It never crossed his mind that he and Obi-Wan couldn't just returned to their timeline. He never thought of it in such a way that he would be stuck for all eternity in a past where Padme was but a mere child.
His heart thumped erratically. He was never going to see Padme again. She was going to wait forever. Wait for his return only to know he was gone and out of reach. To become a widow with no knowledge of what happened to him. Anakin… he lost her. He lost Padme. In his effort to save Obi-Wan, he lost Padme.
What was happening? Why was the Force torturing him in such a cruel manner? If he was the dedicated 'Chosen One', why was it so cruel to him? To take away everything that mattered to him. To threaten the people he love was a sadistic torture. How could the Force betray him like this?
"Anakin?"
Anakin flipped his eyes up to Obi-Wan. "What?"
"Are you all right?"
No. He was far from okay. But he could not explain to Obi-Wan the reason for his sudden misery for it would only bring on a stormy fight. Something Anakin had no energy to deal with at the moment. Not when Padme's very existence and their marriage was on the line. So, like always, he lied to his Master when Obi-Wan dared to try to breach the topic.
"No, I'm not." Anakin grumbled, anger flickering the flames underneath his heart. "Are you telling me we are stuck here forever? What about... the war or Ahsoka? Rex? Cody? What about them? I mean... we can't abandon them!"
"They may no longer exist, Anakin," Obi-Wan responded in that ever so calm and civil tone. "The past has changed. Perhaps Ahsoka was never found. The clones never made and the war never started. Our future is gone."
"It can't be gone!"
"Why?" Obi-Wan posed, hands on his knees as he waited.
Anakin bit his tongue, thinking. He could not bring up Padme. "If we keep the past the same. If nothing happens differently, we could save-"
"Anakin you're not listening. The past has already be re-written," Obi-Wan repeated. "Tahl died two years early. Master SanJo is gone. And, my padawan self is learning lightsaber techniques that he would never have learned otherwise. It's all changed! Thus, the future we come from is gone."
Anakin stormed to his feet. "Are you saying that we are trapped here? Forced to live the rest of our lives... here?"
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "I'm afraid so," he confessed and he looked back at his holopads. "The future... it's in a state of chaos now. Our decisions and our actions-along with Dooku's-now determine the fate of the galaxy."
"I hate fate," Anakin muttered so that only he heard. He paced in front of the table, thinking. "There must be another way, Obi-Wan. There has to be. We can't just abandon our home!"
Obi-Wan ran his fingers through his hair. A sign of his tiredness. "Anakin, I'm sorry. But, our home no longer exists. This is home now. And, we must be happy with it. We have no choice."
Obi-Wan titled his head in agreement. "As I said, time does not care. It takes all and is relentless. No one can win."
And that made it all the more painful. He was never going to see Padme again. Never hold her again. Or kiss her again. Or make love. She was gone. Ripped away from him because of Dooku. Now, his future was gone. His future was her erased. And, now, he was left to grow old alone.
And, Padme… would they even meet in this new future? Would his alternate self save her and her people again? Would they fall in love again? Would they marry? Oh Force, he wanted to hold her desperately. To never let go and have her safe in his arms. No pain. No loss.
A cruelty of fate. Anakin hated fate. The only way to secure and save his marriage was to make sure Padawan Kenobi lived. His survival just grew more important. Something Anakin didn't think could possibly happened, but yet, Padawan Kenobi just proved how vital he was for future events. The central link to connect all.
Padawan Kenobi will survive at all cost. If it meant he got to keep both Padme and Obi-Wan in the future, he would ensure it. He would make sure that future—his future—happens.
That way, he had a home to return too. Of course, once he learned how to rebuild a time machine.
I will come home to you, Padme. I promise.
The day was not as short as he hoped. Qui-Gon was strict with his assignment to ensure Obi-Wan didn't do anything strenuous. He was given permission to take off class, but that did not mean he could not study. Qui-Gon taught him, giving him real-life diplomatic examples and asking Obi-Wan how he would act as a Jedi Knight in a situation. On occasion, Jedi Kenobi and Anakin would throw in their opinions and giving the boy suggestions. Overall, Obi-Wan was forced to make his own decision based on what he knew.
Qui-Gon said he performed well and then handed him three sheets of astronomical equations he needed to complete. That made Obi-Wan wish he went to class instead. He still needed work on this particular field, but he did better than he thought. When Qui-Gon questioned how he would be able to move about in space, he answered he would have a droid with him.
"And what would happen if that droid got destroyed?" Qui-Gon questioned, trying to cause Obi-Wan to stumble over the obstacle his master laid.
Obi-Wan straightened in his seat. "No worries, Master," he said. "I'll always fly with two."
That earned him a deep frown and another round of astronomical problems.
The next day, he was declared fit to rejoin his normal schedule. He could attend classes and chat with his fellow friends once again. No longer locked away and forced to "rest". He happily bounced his way down the corridor, excited to start with lightsaber practice. He always enjoyed a good duel and was most eager to practice out new techniques that Anakin and Jedi Kenobi taught to him against his classmates.
Anakin walked beside him, asking for the tenth time if he was truly feeling better. Obi-Wan restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "Yes, Anakin. I feel fine. I can do somersaults all down this corridor without breaking a sweat."
"Please don't."
"I didn't say I was going to do it," Obi-Wan argued. "Just that I can. Now, please stop coddling me."
"I'm not coddling you," Anakin responded, defensive. "I just don't want you jumping into something that you may not be able to handle."
Obi-Wan's good mood was slowly depleting. "I can handle it. I can handle anything."
Anakin must have realized he was stepping on toes, because he relented. "All right. Just… if you feel light-headed, please alert Master Drallig. He'll comm us right away."
Red crept along his neck as he looked away from Anakin. "I will," he said. "But I'm fine. I feel quite well enough to fight on a few droids."
"What about me?"
Obi-Wan measured Anakin with his two eyes. "I feel even better going against you."
Anakin snorted. "Arrogant brat," he muttered. "All right, fine! Go onto class."
Obi-Wan said his goodbyes and strolled over to the doors where he could hear other padawans talking inside. As he prepared to press the pad, he sensed a dull throb within the Force. Peeking over his shoulder, he saw Bruck and his little band of followers walking down the corridor in his direction. Not wishing to have a confrontation with Bruck, Obi-Wan hurried to the pad, but it was too late. He could feel Bruck's eyes drilling into the back of his head. Bruck always desired a fight.
Obi-Wan looked back to Anakin for assistance and guidance, but found that the Knight was on his comlink—walking away and lost to what was going on around him. Obi-Wan would have to handle Bruck on his own.
Bruck face twisted into a malicious smirk. "Well, isn't it Oafy-Wan," he sneered. "Hey! Is it true? Did you really faint? I mean… did you actually faint in class?"
Obi-Wan's gripped his robes. "You shouldn't always believe what others say. It could lead you astray."
Bruck's grin widened. He looked so ugly with that predator smile. "I have it on good authority that it's quite true, Oafy-Wan. What? Couldn't handle simple math?"
That got his fellow band of misfits into a fit of chuckles. One even congratulated Bruck on a well-earned comeback. That bizarred Obi-Wan the most. The comeback wasn't even that great. Force, Obi-Wan wouldn't even considered it as an insult. Bored with Bruck's little—and lack of creativity—taunt, Obi-Wan pressed the door's pad to enter.
"Excuse me, initiates," Obi-Wan apologized to Bruck's group. "But, I must attend to my responsibilities. You'll understand once you become a padawan."
And Obi-Wan was quite pleased to see Bruck's face ashen and fall. Obi-Wan's spirits lifted and he walked into the classroom filled with other chosen padawans before he effectively closed the door behind him. Out of sight and out of mind.
Garen stood not too far, waving Obi-Wan over. "Hey! How's it been? You doing all right? Missed you yesterday. Heard you were in the Halls of Healing again."
"Don't remind me," Obi-Wan said. "My master got paranoid and wanted me checked out. That's all. Everything came back normal. Nothing's wrong."
Garen's face relaxed. "That's good! I'd hate to be left here all alone."
"You're in a room full of Jedi. Force—a Temple full of Jedi," Obi-Wan pointed out. "You will never be alone."
"You know what I mean," Garen huffed, plunging his hands in his overlarge sleeves. "Who else would have my back or be partners with me?"
"Siri."
"She scares the shit out of me," Garen admitted. "Thank the Force she's not here." Garen's face turned a shade redder and muscles tensed up in dreadful realization. He snapped his attention hard on Obi-Wan. "And don't you go telling her. I mean it, Obi-Wan. Not a word."
Obi-Wan held up his hand. "I promise."
"Obi-Wan—?"
"You know me Garen," Obi-Wan said with a knowing smile. "I always keep my promises."
The two friends continued talking until Master Drallig began class. The Lightsaber Master instructed the padawans to file into rows of four. They quickly did as they were told with Obi-Wan and Garen taking the back row to themselves. Siri was gone from the Temple, traveling on a mission with her master and Bant could not join their group due to her Initiate status. So, Obi-Wan and Garen had the row to themselves.
The first half of the lesson consisted of warm-ups. Simple exercises such as running laps and performing Force jumps and acrobatics. Then, they had light swordplay, practicing defensive and offensive moves and then switching. Compared to Obi-Wan's sparring matches with Anakin and Jedi Kenobi, it was nothing. He hardly even had to try to beat his fellow padawans swiftly. He didn't boast though. He didn't even realize he wasn't breaking a sweat until Garen gruffly pointed it out.
And now, they returned to their original rows across the dojo and perfecting their katas. Another task that Obi-Wan found to be quite easy. He already accomplished many of them thanks to Anakin and Jedi Kenobi's diligent training sessions. Master Drallig was impressed and pressured him into completing more difficult katas. While Obi-Wan moved onto the more complicated positions, his peers continued with the original katas, throwing curious glances at him.
"Remember," Master Drallig's voice called over their heads as he moved between rows. "Let the Force flow through you. Immerse yourself."
Master Drallig stopped before Obi-Wan, examining him with an eyebrow arched. Obi-Wan gained another nod of approval.
"Good Kenobi," Master Drallig said. "But you are focusing too much on the positions of your limbs. Close your eyes and focus on the Force. It will guide you to a better kata stance."
Obi-Wan dutifully followed the master's instructions. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, lowering the shields he held up since last night. The Force trickled, slow at first before it came rushing him in full speed. He was immersed, far away from the dojo and the padawans that he almost felt completely alone. Until, he spotted a familiar presence.
He opened his eyes and surprisingly, no one was around him. Everyone left. But one.
The person stood on the far end of the room, staring right at him. But, Obi-Wan couldn't see their face. He knew them. He recognized the familiar presence, but couldn't quite pinpoint it to a person's face. Obi-Wan tried harder to see them, ready to call to them when he felt a new presence. This one was different from the one across the room. Oily tendrils slithered between the gaps of Obi-Wan's shields. A sudden chill rocked him and the Force swirled in warning. Obi-Wan looked back to his friend and a shadow stepped into the light, all consuming and pursuant. Its lurky figure slithered across the floor, getting closer to Obi-Wan's friend. The Force let out a siren and Obi-Wan bolted into action to save the person. But, his legs would not move. He started floating up, away from the confrontation. He struggled in his invisible binds, watching in horror as a red flare shot up. A red lightsaber! With no hesitation, Obi-Wan witnessed the red lightsaber strike the person, slicing them with no remorse or respect.
All Obi-Wan could do was scream as he was carried to safety… away from the murder, the darkness and madness. His screams the only trace left of him.
"Obi-Wan!"
His eyes fluttered up and for another surprise, he saw a blur of two faces looking at him. They smeared in a variety of colors before him, almost like he was looking at one person instead of two. But, he heard their voices. Despite their blended words, he recognized the soft Coruscanti accent and the hard-edged Outer Rim accent.
What he didn't understand was why they were there. What happened?
He heard more muffles around him and as his vision came clearer and his hearing sharper, he came to the realization he never left the dojo or his class. All the padawans stood in a group, all trying to get a peek at him behind Anakin's tall frame. Jedi Kenobi had his hand on his forehead, examining him carefully. Anakin looked peaked and pale, but managed a small smirk to play off his worries.
"Can you hear me padawan?" Jedi Kenobi asked.
He could. Much better than the first time. Obi-Wan nodded, but his neck felt so stiff. And, he was very tired. Very… the dream left him weak. Like all of his strength was zapped. Gone. He breathed deeply and tried his very best to focus. "I'm fine."
"Don't start that," Jedi Kenobi advised and he flashed something in front of him. "Can you tell me what this is?"
Obi-Wan squinted, but it made him sick. His guts twisted up and his heart fluttered uncomfortably. His vision swirled again and he let his head fall to the side, unable to look. "I… I'm tired, Master."
"That's not good," Anakin's voice shifted up a notch.
Someone patted his face. "Stay awake young one," Jedi Kenobi commanded. "Don't fall asleep." A brief pause. "When did you say it happened?"
Another voice came into the mixture. Master Drallig. "He collapsed about ten minutes ago. He was performing some katas and he fell. I believed he only lost his balance, but then he started to seizure."
Seizure? What exactly happened? It was clear he never left the dojo nor did anyone leave. But, what he saw felt so real. He watched someone die. He watched a Sith kill someone he knew.
"I—" Obi-Wan tried to speak, but his lips barely parted. Why was he so weak? And so very tired.
Again, someone patted his cheek. "Do not close your eyes, padawan."
Obi-Wan couldn't nod his head to answer. So, he slurred his words. "I… won't…"
Yet, darkness kept trudging up and, Anakin and Jedi Kenobi's faces blurred again, almost disappearing.
"No, padawan," Jedi Kenobi instructed again. "You must stay awake. Don't fall asleep."
No, he couldn't fall asleep. He couldn't go back to that room again. He—he didn't want to face the creature or the murder. He didn't want to witness it again. But the oily tendrils returned, wrapping around his small chest and pulling him back from awareness.
"M-Master…" Obi-Wan mumbled. Was Qui-Gon nearby? He needed some warmth. A sunny, bright presence to be next to him. All he felt was cold. Why was it so cold?
"He's shivering, Master," Anakin's voice warned. "Something's not right."
No—it wasn't. It was all wrong. He had to warn them. "The Sith… he… he killed…"
"Killed? Killed who?"
He was so very weak. He breathed deeply again to gather strength, but it just didn't come to him. The icy fingers of the lingering presence snared him in his shoulders, striking up pain of remembrance of his dead friend.
"Padawan!?"
He had to warn them. He needed to tell them. "Killed someone…" Obi-Wan wheezed shortly. "Someone I… someone I know…"
Anakin and Jedi Kenobi glanced at each other with matching expression.
"We need to get him to Master Yoda," Jedi Kenobi's voice trailed.
Obi-Wan felt arms scooped underneath his body and he winced at the contact. Strong arms adjusted him and a glove locked his arms in a secured hold. Anakin had picked him up and a small breeze tickle Obi-Wan's face. They must have been moving quickly for the murmurs he heard faded like whispers in a cave.
It hurt to breathe. His chest rose high and fell hard with every breath. It hurt. But, all the pain brought back the dream of his friend being cut down. Someone was in danger. The Force rippled and convulsed its warning with great urgency. Someone was going to die. Someone Obi-Wan knew.
"Don't close your eyes," Anakin's harsh voice forced Obi-Wan to refocus. "Stay with me, okay? Focus on me."
Obi-Wan took another struggling breath. "I will…"
He kept his eyes up on Anakin, tracing the strong jawline and half-wondering why he had the look of a wounded, yet anger man. He let the thought slip out of his mind and concentrated on his breathing and keeping his eyes from closing over. He promised to stay and focus. And that is what he did.