"Ah, you're awake," a friendly voice greeted Obi-Wan when he stirred and opened his eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"Mace?" Obi-Wan rubbed still sleepy eyes. "Force, I'm tired. I thought Neille would never finish and let me get some sleep. Other than sticking that needle in my hand, it appears that at least he decided to stop torturing me."
"After all you went through, you're still able to joke, I see." Mace shook his head, somewhat shocked at Obi-Wan's comment, though he wasn't surprised. The day Obi-Wan didn't make some wry comment or joke was the day Mace would really worry. Mace hoped this meant despite his clearly horrific experience, his fellow Jedi was less scarred by the experience that any of them dared hope.
"Obi-Wan, you don't have to hide behind humor, not with me. We're alone, you can let go and admit how terrible your ordeal was."
Still smiling, Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, if I don't laugh at it, I'll – no, I need to find the humor in it. If I don't laugh at it – what then do I do? I need it, Mace – I need it. It's all I have."
Humor had always been Obi-Wan's way of disarming stress, one way of dealing with anxiety. Even as a child, Obi-Wan had never wanted to burden others, whether it was normal childhood fears or actual pain. Even with others, Obi-Wan could be counted on to break tension with a well-timed quip or joke; many a negotiation had been saved from dissolving into utter disintegration by his charm and wit when the proceedings threatened to dissolve into chaos.
"You have much more than that, my friend. You have your colleagues and friends. You have your freedom and you have the Force."
The smile faltered a bit then; Obi-Wan's seeming good spirits revealed as armor for his wounded spirit, a defense against vulnerability. Other than the obvious physical wounds, the Jedi all too clearly suffered from equally deep – potentially more serious wounds – of the mind. He had said little of his experiences as yet, as far as Mace knew, and as yet no one pressed him to. Not even his padawan knew.
They would leave that to the mind healers.
"No, actually I don't have the Force. Sometimes, but not always. My sense of humor was one of the last things I lost – so it's the first thing I can try to reclaim. Don't try and take it from me."
"The only thing anyone would dream of taking from you is all your bad memories, Obi-Wan. If we could, we would."
"If you could, I would let you, but the Force will take them eventually. Don't worry, Mace. You know me, soon everything will be released into the Force and I'll be the almost the same Obi-Wan I was. Just let me rest so I have the Force at my command again, and I'll soon be fine."
"You think it will be that easy?" Mace leaned forward, frowning, for there was something in the tone that was decidedly not Obi-Wan. It was as if he spoke words he thought were expected of him, but didn't really believe.
"No – but I have to believe. I have to believe that." With a sigh, Obi-Wan settled more comfortably against his pillow and looked at Mace. "Not that I don't welcome your visit, but why are you here?"
"We thought it best for someone to be with you when a healer couldn't. You've been through quite an ordeal, Obi-Wan. We're happy to have you back, although I do wish it had come much sooner. You looked almost shell-shocked when we first spoke to you."
"It was the light." Obi-Wan cleared his throat, and looked away. His voice grew soft, touched with an aching memory of rediscovering something precious, nearly lost. "The sun was rising and I had forgotten – well, how beautiful the light was. I had – almost forgotten how beautiful it could be. I had all but lost it – even the memory of it was slipping from me. I knew, once it was gone, I would be alone and trapped - there would be only darkness. I was fighting the dark for so long, well – the light was, it was -."
"Yes?" Obi-Wan seemed unaware of the unshed tears glistening in his eyes, so Mace, too, ignored them. He had expected to sit by his friend's side as he slept, before the healers came in, not to have to speak to him without an idea of how best to proceed.
"No." Obi-Wan shook his head, suddenly agitated. "Why does everyone want me to talk about it – first Anakin, now you, it's over and done with. It's the past – I need to live in the here and now, as Qui-Gon admonished me time and again. I sensed something on Naboo, but no – 'put your attention where it belongs, Obi-Wan, on the here and now'- ."
He was almost shouting when he finally snapped his mouth shut and looked away, ashamed and shocked at his outburst. He rubbed his eyes with his one free hand and sighed. "Where did all that come from? I'm sorry, Mace, I'm really sorry."
"Don't be, Obi-Wan." Mace adjusted the blanket around his friend. "I understand."
"I don't. I'm just so tired. I feel like -."
"What?" Mace prompted, wondering if Obi-Wan would finish his thought and at the same time desperately hoping he wouldn't be provoking another outburst.
"- like I want to cry. Why? I never cry, Mace. What happened to me, there, to make me want to cry?"
The honest admission surprised Mace. That was the last reaction he had expected from Obi-Wan, but the healers had warned him before allowing him in to sit with Obi-Wan that his reactions were likely to be abnormal for some time.
"I don't know, but you might want a tissue then," he said, offering one. To his surprise, Obi-Wan laughed, then took it and wiped his eyes.
"I'm not myself."
"You shouldn't expect to be. Who do you think you are?" The look on Obi-Wan's face was priceless; his eyes went wide with first surprise, then mirth. He laughed so hard that he had to wipe his eyes a second time.
"Thanks, Mace. I don't remember the last time I laughed, really laughed."
An emotional man might have been moved to tears. Mace Windu only cleared his throat. "Anytime, Obi-Wan, anytime."
Fingers plucked at the bed covers as Obi-Wan looked anywhere but at Mace. "Why didn't anyone come?"
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan - come?"
"Why didn't anyone come? I shouldn't ask – but why didn't anyone come?"
Understanding flooded Mace. "Most of us were sure you were dead. Those who weren't didn't know where to look. The Force itself was silent on your fate."
"Ah. Yes. Strangely enough, I remember once thinking I would rather rot there than have others risk their lives to save mine. I'd have endured a lot more if it meant others would not die on my behalf, only - I almost fell. I almost drowned in darkness…but I didn't. I got away. The light – it was the most beautiful sight. That's when it started to seem real."
"It is real, Obi-Wan. Believe that, just as I believe that given some time, you'll be feeling like yourself again – unless you do want to try being someone else?"
A genuine smile creased Obi-Wan's face at that. "No, thanks, I'll be happy to be myself again. I know I will be. It's rather strange knowing you're not really yourself, but then I suppose I have a right to be. Some rest, some meditation… some real food."
"Some of Yoda's stew will fatten you up. You need to put some weight back on."
"Force, no, not that stuff." The snort of laughter bubbling up from the abused spirit gladdened Mace immensely. Yoda's stew was infamous among the majority of the human Jedi. Obi-Wan let a hand drift down and brush over his ribs, hidden under the blanket covering him. He made a face. "I have no appetite, but I know what you mean. I'm not a strong candidate for the Holonews 'Faces of the War' stories, am I?"
"When have any of the front line soldiers been?" Mace countered. The holonews had been running profiles off and on for a number of months; usually of some politician declaiming on "Liberty, Democracy, and the Republic."
"Anakin seems to make it with some regularity, to my dismay and occasional amusement. He's young, he seems to be considered good-looking, and his – ah, headlong rushes into 'how-did-he-avoid-a-disaster' exploits seem to have made him somewhat of a poster boy. 'The Hero with No Fear' – hah, they should see him when he thinks I'm about to give him another well deserved lecture."
Both looked up as one of the surgeons entered, studying a data pad. "Well, well, 'Guts' Malone," Mace acknowledged the newcomer, "take good care of him, will you?" He quietly excused himself with a quick pat on Obi-Wan's hand as he nodded to the surgeon, a friend since their mutual days in the creche.
After a quick nod to both men, 'Guts' stood next to the Jedi's bed, seeming to ignore his patient. Obi-Wan waited patiently; figuring the surgeon would speak when he was ready.
"Know what your spleen is for?" he finally asked, brightly, continuing to study the scans though one eye carefully watched the Jedi. A note on the medical chart had given him a bit of guidance on dealing with the Jedi: Reactions currently unpredictable. A bit tense, not surprising, usually relaxes when teased, prefers healers to be blunt.
"No," Obi-Wan replied, a bit distrustfully.
"Me neither. Might as well remove it while I poke about your innards."
"That's not funny," Obi-Wan shot back a bit sourly as the surgeon smiled. Sense of humor diminished or absent, definitely erratic were added to the notes. He looked back at the Jedi, and said gently, "No one likes to have part of themselves removed. Makes most patients happy when I tell them I was just joking."
"I'm not most patients," Obi-Wan replied calmly after subduing his unwarranted flash of irritation and idly playing with the name band on his wrist. Color-coded, it was purple. He wondered just what it signified; he had worn blue or green bands before, signifying serious but not life-threatening injuries. It had been blue after Geonosis, his two wounds painful but little more, though he had needed therapy for his leg.
"Indeed not." The surgeon looked directly at him and was suddenly serious, if not brutally honest. "You are one of the most messed up on purpose beings I've seen. Accidents and such are one thing, but what was done to you….sorry, I suppose you know first hand what I'm seeing here." His tight-lipped grimace was not reassuring.
"I have some vague memories, yes," he allowed. Surgeons weren't known for tact, but Jedi were used to blunt talk, and Obi-Wan preferred the truth rather than otherwise.
"We're going to push you into surgery after we've run a few bags of fluids and such into you. We want you a bit stronger before the stress of surgery. How does it feel to be the first Jedi in centuries suffering from Force exhaustion?"
"Surgery? Force exhaustion – what's that?" He couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.
"Surgery, have to fix those fingers of yours," 'Guts' confirmed. "Force exhaustion – well, that took a while for Neille to figure out, but the extreme exhaustion you're feeling as well as your reduced Force presence was the key. You exceeded the limits of your mind and body, in short, drawing on the Force to keep going when you should have otherwise collapsed. Most reported cases were less severe than yours. With time and rest, they all recovered just fine."
"The more extreme cases?" From the measured look given him, he knew even before the surgeon replied. "It could have killed me?"
"If you had kept drawing on the Force, yes. Those who died did so before healers could get to them."
"I should be grateful to be here, then. That degree of exhaustion – I was a bit concerned, I'll admit."
"Don't be. The cure is pretty simple – plenty of sleep. The hardest part of the recovery is mental: facing the erratic ability to touch the Force. You have a padawan strong in the Force, with the strength of your bond, he should be able to help you if necessary, speeding your recovery."
"What about Alpha – the man who came in with me? He's in worse shape than I am."
"Actually, he's not. He's pretty messed up, too, but he doesn't seem to think it's much. He needs a fair amount of stitching up, but there's not much we can do for the bruising. He's getting a round of fluids and stuff, too; then he'll be in the tank while you're in surgery. He probably won't stay with us for long, not as long as you will."
"I'm exhausted, not half dead. I fought Ventress and bounty hunters to escape so how bad can I be?" Obi-Wan demanded in surprise. "I'm well aware I overdid my use of the Force in the shape I'm in, but sleep will take care of that. I just need some time – in fact, why are you going to take me into surgery?"
The surgeon held up the x-rays and test results. "This is why, Master Kenobi. This is not a healthy patient's chart, but we'll soon set you to rights. You're suffering from more than just Force-exhaustion. Your blood chemistry is a mess – your blood volume is way down …. You have some damage from those – vibroblades, right? – wounds and those fingers we need to re-break and set properly. After that you get our special deluxe bacta treatment."
His face fell. So much for a quick stay in the healers.
"You've got some internal organ damage I won't understand until I get inside – it's not consistent with what we know of your treatment in captivity." He cocked an eyebrow at his patient, it almost looked as if the Jedi had been messing around internally himself, unlikely as that seemed.
"I knew there had to be a better way of killing those grubs," Obi-Wan grumbled. At the surgeon's inquiring look, Obi-Wan explained.
The surgeon was appalled. "A damn clumsy job you made of it - you could have killed yourself doing that without proper training. Considering the alternative, though," he sighed. "Still, a Jedi's got to do what a Jedi's got to do to stay alive. At least we can fix the damage you caused – and if you hadn't succeeded, well, we'd have no damage to fix because you'd be dead. The damage is irreversible after approximately a week without treatment."
Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose as he continued to stare at his chart. He didn't understand it all, but by length alone, he could tell he was in worse shape than he'd thought. As for his midichlorian count - if he was being tested for admittance to the Order, he would never be accepted.
"Will my midi count come back up?" he asked, concerned.
"Strange thing about your midis – they're almost in hibernation. What you're seeing is not a true count, more like a measure of the current effectiveness of your midis: the count is only seeing the healthy midis. Neille might be able to tell you more; I'm a surgeon. Most of yours are tucked up tight against the cell walls, inactive, instead of floating in the cells' center, which may partially account for your Force exhaustion, but not entirely. Neille is researching this and will talk to you later. Any idea what might have caused them to dig in like that?"
The mask! He had felt the Force draining from him… he remembered the panic, the fear, the hopelessness… he swallowed hard. A Jedi does not know fear. Fear leads to…the dark places he'd gone into; had managed to escape from once, but not untarnished.
"Perhaps," he choked, unable to get any other words out and not realizing he had gone absolutely white. He swallowed hard and turned his head away, clearly not wanting to talk any more. His fingers curled in against the palms of his hands, rigid at his side as he tried to breathe the memory away.
After a moment's silence, the surgeon cleared his throat. "After surgery and the tank, it'll be a while before you're up and around much – it'll take a while to recover your strength and get your midis functioning again. No more messing around at the cellular level, either, you leave that to the healers."
"Unless absolutely necessary," Obi-Wan agreed, having regained some control of his surging emotions after several deep breaths
"After surgery and the tank, it'll be the mind healers turn." The surgeon dropped his voice and whispered conspiratorially, "If I were you, I'd stay here as long as possible."
Obi-Wan held up his hand and pointed to the purple band, raising an eyebrow as he did so. "Ah, signifying mind healers?"
The surgeon smiled. "Council members. Mace Windu insisted."
It was plausible, but somehow Obi-Wan doubted it. Council members might be the current leaders of the Order, but they were first among equals, not an elite, and entitled to no special treatment or respect.
Still – purple? Mace did have a fixation on that color. He was still smiling as he fell asleep.
The shrill beeping of the heart monitor brought Neille in to check on him, to find Obi-Wan twitching in the grip of a bad dream. It was perfectly understandable that the Jedi's dreams would be unpleasant ones – the surprise was that he was not thrashing about, but coiled up as if he were withdrawing into himself.
Pain so bad his toes curled…and he
- laughed
A voice, fractured with pain, asking why he didn't do something…and he answered, because he found watching the blood drip
- entertaining
A whisper in his mind: one should not hate…and his rage at hearing this, that one should accept such agony and not hate…the pain, the acid in his throat and the flames in his veins…
…a scream tore from his throat and Obi-Wan bolted upright…to find Neille bending over him and looking a little astonished at his abrupt movement.
"No," he hoarsely whispered, shaking his head. "Don't put me to sleep, please. Don't send me back there – please don't." He didn't want to sleep. Sleep brought dreams, only the dreams he dreamt were nightmares – of Alpha's tortures, his delight in it – Force help him, he didn't want to be the man in the dreams – reliving the nightmares the mask had already forced him to live.
"No! Please!" he protested in vain as the needle slipped into his arm; his protests only ceasing as the sedative took effect. Neille pulled up a chair and sat down, laying a hand over his patient's forehead. The monitors resumed their usual and steady rhythm. Obi-Wan was resting now, for now free of the nightmares that plagued him during his sleep.
"It's okay, Obi-Wan, this sedative should keep you from nightmares," he murmured.
The healer looked up as another Jedi entered the room: Yoda, eyes concerned and watchful.
"How is Master Kenobi? In distress, I thought he was." He moved slowly over to the Jedi's bedside and silently studied him as he leaned on his gimer stick.
"He was having a nightmare," the healer said, turning his eyes away from his patient. "I'm sure he'll have more. He can't really call on the Force to help him deal with things yet. Whatever strength has kept him going is failing him now."
"Ah, Force exhaustion they told me," Yoda nodded in understanding. "Not common it is, but cured by time and rest it is. Tortured I know he was - how is he otherwise?"
"Medically, he's a bit of a mess, but he'll recover just fine without any physical aftereffects, once he's had surgery and immersion in the bacta tank. At least – the one thing we're not sure about is his midis. We're still running some tests, but we aren't sure what's going on with them, or how long it'll take them to recover."
"Good to hear that recover he will. Mentally, what after effects should we expect – heard already that snapped at Mace Windu he did. Few would so dare." There was a hint of a chuckle at the last, but Yoda's eyes showed only sadness and concern.
"Psychologically – he hasn't really spoken much of his experience as yet. I don't think he's quite ready to really face it, and he's weak enough that he probably can't. His sleep seems to be haunted by surfacing memories, so I'm trying to suppress them for now. Hopefully this sedative will do a better job than the first one."
"Need a mind healer he does."
"After his surgery and bacta immersion, he'll have one. It's pretty obvious his ordeal was deeply disturbing, and I personally don't doubt that he was pushed to hate and anger. Anyone, any Jedi, would be after what he experienced. He won't want to admit to it, knowing our Master Kenobi."
"Sit with him, I will," Yoda said softly, taking the chair that the healer vacated. "Strong enough you think he is now?"
"Not as strong as we'd like, but strong enough. They'll be taking him into surgery shortly," Neille advised. "The anesthesiologist will be here soon."
"Stay I will until then." Yoda reached a clawed hand and let it rest lightly on the forehead of the sleeping Jedi, sending a brush of the Force against the now quiet mind. "A bond of sorts we have, sooth him I can if the Force wills it."
It was a variation of a sleep suggestion, using hypnotic suggestion to wipe the mind from thoughts and worries. Touching the mind of another Jedi like this required experience or a connection to the Jedi in question. Yoda had both.
"A good rest you will have, Obi-Wan. Soon enough you will have to deal with this; rest now you need. Strength you will need later. Done well you have, for survived you have. The hard part, now it comes."
Neille nodded in silent agreement, looking at the Jedi who had been so cruelly treated, crease lines of pain and exhaustion less apparent in sleep. He thought of the clone trooper in the next room over, being taken care of by his fellow healers, and shook his head at the cruelty that some sentients were all too capable of inflicting on others.
All to often, it was up to healers like himself to put the broken parts back together – in this particular case, surgeon, healers and mind healers would have to work together to repair the damage.
"Will you be here when he comes out of recovery, Master Yoda? I suspect as the anesthesia wears off, he'll have more nightmares." Neille noticed the elder Jedi's hand gently pat Obi-Wan's, and knew the answer before the gentle voice spoke.
"Be here I will, or another in my place. Alone, he shall not be."