Ta-da-da-dum!! This chapter is dedicated to The Indelible Jay. I sort of got your hint. ;) No offense to anyone still following this story, but school and exams have to come first. I do apologize for leaving in the middle of an Obi-Wan crisis, though. :)

Barring disaster, I'll post on this story every Friday or Saturday as a minimum. I'll try to update more frequently than that, but once a week at least.

You've all been absolutely wonderful with your comments … without your reviews, this story I was quite sure was worthless to readers would have died in flames. I have another story I'm working up the courage to post; it should show up here sometime in the next few days (yes, beta-read. *g*)

Okay. All right. (surrounds herself with her favorite edibles – chocolate and the adorable picture of Ewan sleeping after his surgery in Life Less Ordinary – and begins to type … ) This one's iffy, sorry. No beta reader on this story; it's, well, Based On A True Story (with A Little Creative License Used In Jedi Matters *g*) – and I can't help the gaping plot holes life sometimes throws at us. :)

Just Easier Than Dealing With the Pain

By: Syntyche

Chapter Seven

The wind howled in his ears, pulling at him, terrifying him, and he tried to curl away from it, but his body stubbornly refused to move and the wind continued to drive needles into his exposed skin. He struggled to bite back a sob, but he was hurt, and cold, and tired; despite his efforts, tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. Dark blood seeping from his cut palm mingled with that from the gashes in his wrist; he pressed his arm against his stomach, feeling fresh blood soak into his already saturated tunic.

Somehow it didn't quite feel the way he'd expected it to. His strength had given out; fallen, he was lying on the cold, grassy knoll, dying, but there was no welcome release to the emptiness he'd been feeling, and even in the darkness coiling about the edges of his vision there was no peace. Even as his lifeblood drained out of him, he felt only regret.

Obi-Wan's last conscious thought was a single word:

Master.

The wind continued to howl.

Alva Rez shuffled along beside his beloved, twisting his wingtips nervously but, he hoped, discreetly. It would not do at all for his sweet Laia to see his apprehension, not tonight, especially not tonight, the night of all nights! For tonight, this night of all nights, he would once more ask his love's wing in a renewal of their bonding, in a spectacular proposal – the proposal of all proposals!

He'd been planning fastidiously for this event, and he was sure that finally, after fifty years of thought and preparation, he had it perfect.

The setting was ideal – the grassy knoll by the sea where he'd first proposed to her all those years ago. The night was warm, and a quiet breeze blew off the water. The sound of the gentle waves was like a caress to his hearing …

Only, Rez realized with a sudden frown, the waves weren't gentle tonight. Nor was the wind quiet. The surf was crashing against the shore, and pulling back quickly only smash at the sand again. The wind howled through the trees with a cadence Rez had never heard before.

Well, this was all wrong. The weathercasters had said light breeze, half moon, waves less than two kleks! Rez's feathers bristled both in dismay and anger – they had lied! To him! His proposal to Laia was ruined!

Laia was moving closer to him. "Alva, I don't like this," she whispered, her dark eyes flicking back and forth. "The weather is funny and it's so cold; let's go in, please?"

Rez was torn. He had planned to propose to Laia on their knoll, just over the hill … but if his love was chilled, he must see to her comfort first.

"All right," he said gently, putting aside both his plans and dismay at the weather. "Let's go home."

He turned away from the knoll to lead her home … and she stopped suddenly.

"Alva, what was that?" Laia murmured anxiously. Her wing slid against his for comfort, and he brushed it reassuringly.

He craned his neck, listening, but couldn't hear anything except the wind and waves. "I don't hear anything."

Laia half-turned, straining against the wing he now used to hold her back. "I'm sure there's something there … please, Alva, maybe someone is hurt … " Her small eyes glittered with worry, and Rez knew his love's compassionate nature wouldn't allow her to turn her back on any wounded creature – even if it were just a little squirmer that'd lost its way. She'd been that way since he'd known her; her kindness was one of her most beautiful attributes.

"I'll look," he offered, speaking in a low voice to be heard under the rushing wind. "You stay here." He said it knowing she would disobey, but to his surprise she merely nodded and stepped away from him.

Rez crossed slowly over the hill to the smaller knoll where he'd planned on proposing to Laia. The knoll was one of the few spots near the beach where one could have a measure of privacy, and as Rez tucked his head away to shelter it from the wind, he reflected that maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. His old joints were creaking with the effort of going up and down hill. Almost there, he breathed with a sigh. Just a few more steps …

… There was a body slumped on the knoll.

A human body.

With his head turned away from the wind, he'd almost stumbled directly over it. Rez let out a surprised squawk and backed up hurriedly. Oh force, oh force, oh force – pull yourself together! he commanded himself sternly, and made himself move forward.

It appeared to be a young man. The face was turned away from him, but in the pale moonlight Rez could see that the figure, while small, was too compactly built to be female. The legs and one arm were splayed awkwardly; the right arm was clutched close to the body. He was clad in cream-colored pants and a tunic, and wore high boots that ended just below his knees.

Rez inched closer. Was he dead? Rez was an elderly middle-class office worker who dreamed dreams, not a doctor or a healer or anyone else with medical experience. He found the idea of touching a dead body rather disturbing.

Laia was waiting, but despite her initial agreement, Rez knew she wouldn't stay behind the hill much longer. Carefully, he circled around to the young man's front.

Pale moonlight illuminated a waxy face that looked somehow managed to look both unbelievably young and incredibly old, innocent yet world-weary. From this distance, Rez couldn't tell if there was life in the body; the young man was so very still.

Gathering his courage, Rez stepped forward and placed the back of his wing against the pale cheek, checking for warmth and life in the pallid skin. He surprised when his wingtip came away wet; despite the wind and waves, there were no clouds to be seen, no rain to be felt in the air.

His wingtip had come away damp, but he had also felt life in the body. "Laia! Laia!!"

She had been waiting just beyond the hill. "Rez? What is it? Did you find anything?"

"Laia, come quickly, please!" he called, kneeling before the body. "Hurry!"

In an instant, she had reached his side dropped to her knees beside him. "Force, is he alive??" At his nod, she reached out a gentle wing to lightly touch the smooth features, lax in unconsciousness. "Let's turn him over – he must be injured somewhere."

It was awkward with their wings, but he was small and they worked together to gently roll the body over. The young man stiffened and a tiny moan escaped his lips; at the same time, the howling of the wind increased, pulling at their feathers and clothes.

"Let him down! Let him down!" Laia shouted suddenly over the roar of the wind. Carefully he was eased back into his original position and he immediately curled in on himself. The gale force of the wind died down.

"Wow," He'd seen many strange things in his time, but that certainly ranked near the top. Rez rocked back on his heels. "What was that?"

Laia was gently caressing the ginger braid draped over the young man's shoulder.

"Please wake up," she whispered, her touch moving to soothe the tear-stained cheek, "please."

The young man moaned again and started to shiver, and immediately the wind picked up.

"Stop it!" Laia ordered firmly, squeezing his shoulder tightly. "You must stop,"

In response the wind heightened, sending the waves beating against the shore and howling through the trees like a shrieking ghost. Rez shuddered.

"Maybe we should leave him, Laia."

Laia ignored him. "Stop it," she repeated sternly to the whimpering young man. "You must stop this right now. Please wake up."

He shifted and mumbled incoherently, but Laia was firm in her demand and after a moment, his eyelids flickered as consciousness slowly returned. Dull blue-grey eyes stared ahead fuzzily.

"Master?"

At least, that was what Rez assumed he'd said. The word was so garbled he could barely make it out.

"You must relax. Please." Laia thought for a moment, and then tried to make the young man understand. "The Force around you is disturbed," she said quietly.

Rez thought he saw comprehension dawn, but the blue-grey eyes were too pain-laden and dull for him to be sure. The eyes closed and the young man's pale brow furrowed in concentration; a moment later, the wind quieted and the water eased its raging to lap gently at the shore. Already exhausted, the young man's body slumped further.

"Thank you," Laia said quietly, brushing her wing over his face in a caressing gesture. Her ministrations earned her a small smile, but her soft suggestion they take the young man to a medical facility was met with aggressive protest.

The young man heaved himself into a sitting position with Rez's help. "I'm all right."

Laia's breath drew in a sharp hiss as she took in the young man's bloodstained tunic. "You're wounded," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," the young man agreed absently. He was staring at his hand in a way that suggested he was surprised it was actually a part of his body. Rez twitched nervously. The young man had moved upright easily enough, suggesting his belly had escaped unscathed by whatever had wounded him … but Rez couldn't see any other signs of damage.

"Where are you injured?" Laia asked patiently.

"I … " The young man was still staring at his right hand; to Rez it appeared uninjured but for some scar tissue there.

"Jedi, come." Laia tugged gently on the young man's arm; he looked up her, surprise written on his features.

"What?"

"It's rather obvious," Laia smiled.

"Hm? Oh." The young man looked his clothes over ruefully. "I guess it is."

Rez finally worked up the courage to speak to him. "Were you in a fight?"

"No … " The young man hesitated, his wan face tired. "Not exactly, anyway." He pushed himself to his feet, swaying a moment. He put a hand – his left – on Laia's shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "Thank you," he said softly.

She nodded. "I don't know what you were doing, but I knew you were doing it. I could feel the Force around you … twisting," she finally said, for lack of a better word.

He understood. "I don't know why it happened." He bent to retrieve the robe that had been folded under him and shrugged into it carefully. As he picked the cloth up, Rez spotted the glimmer of a knife that had been hidden underneath. This the young man wiped carefully on the grass before tucking it into a sheath in his dark boot.

Laia touched the young man again, this time smoothing the soft hair and waiting until his eyes met hers. "It is not yours to take, young one," she said gravely.

His mouth tightened and turned down, and he fingered the freshly scarred skin of his right wrist. "I think I realized that," he agreed with a tired smile.

"Almost a bit too late, I think," Laia added, and he nodded in agreement.

"But," he said seriously, "I must ask you to please refrain from telling anyone. It was … a mistake."

Laia's head cocked to the side skeptically. "Will it bring harm to you or someone who cares for you if we say nothing of this?"

The young man smiled wryly. "I think, Madame, that it would do greater harm if something were said. Give me your word, please?"

Rez stepped closer to Laia and touched her back lightly, offering his compliance. Laia nodded. "We will say nothing. If … "

"If?" Obviously the young Jedi hadn't expected a catch.

"If you will give me your word you will never do something so foolish again, young one."

His bright eyes glittered in the moonlight as he gave her a twisted smile. "A promise for a promise?"

"Done."

end chapter seven