Cerasi5, saint, TallyG, thank you.

Maygin, thank you for long review. You know, I love supernatural things, too. Hence this story. It's really good to know that not only the idea of the story is good, but my writing style is okay, too.

All right, I'll keep posting. And you keep reviewing ;-)

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Long minutes had passed since Anisa left him in the corridor; yet Obi-Wan still stood where he was. He had to lean on the wall for support, as his knees suddenly felt weak. A dark sense of dread washed over him, that and something else. The combination of the feelings made him feel sick, rendering him motionless. Burning cold on his cheek didn't subside, if anything it only spread, capturing more and more of Obi-Wan's skin. The Padawan finally remembered where he had been going before he met Anisa. Pushing himself away from the wall, he slowly made his way to his quarters.

Once there, he stopped in the middle of the room. He mainly wanted to think about what to do next. At any rate, his feet felt so numb he doubted he could make another step. Heavy mist clouded his thoughts, and it took him a while to remember again that he came here to change. Pain suddenly shot through him, sending him to his knees. A moan escaped him as another bolt of pain coursed through his body. His skin felt like being on fire or covered with ice - there was no difference anyway.

His head exploded in a splitting headache, and he clutched his temples, trying in vain to drive the pain away. Bright spots danced before his eyes, obscuring his vision. It didn't matter whether his eyes were open or not; either way he could see nothing but those spots. Another shot of pain - this one even worse than the previous one - and he crumpled to the floor, curling in on himself.

//Master,// he whispered in his mind. //Help me!//

If there was any answer, he didn't hear it; his mind refused to register anything but pain. He felt like all of his internal organs were being ripped out of his body one by one. Another moan escaped his dry lips as the pain became constant, almost unbearable.

//Master!// he cried again, feeling himself slipping into the black void of unconsciousness. Didn't Qui-Gon hear him? Wasn't he coming?

*****************

Arones sat staring after Anisa for long moments after she left. He had thought he had her completely under his control. But this time his ace-card - danger to her village - didn't work. It was bound to happen some day, and he knew it. Hence, he was always looking for a way to get her back under his control. And, perhaps, it was finally time to exercise that control. He pressed a button on his comm. unit and told those on the other end to come to his office immediately.

In the time it took his people get to his office, Arones reviewed once again what he was planning to do. He had studied legends and facts about soulhunters - everything he could find. And he knew that once a soulhunter engaged in a long-term 'soul stealing' he or she was connected to their victims. It might not be evident in their behaviour, but they needed to take the victim's whole soul as much as the victim needed to be close to the soulhunter.

Anisa was not aware that Arones knew this; and this little fact might truly be the key to her undoing. A predatory smile spread on the man's face.  Yes, he'll get her back.  She had been a perfect killer. From the very beginning there had been too few of soulhunters on the planet for the knowledge of their existence to be wide spread And so no one could understand what happened to the people Anisa 'worked' on.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called. Two of his guards - who were much more than that - entered the room. They stopped before his table, looking at him respectfully, waiting for his orders.

Arones looked the two men over. If he didn't know better he would have thought them to be brothers. Both were tall and bulky, both had short black hair and wore simple black dress. Arones let satisfaction with them glow in his eyes.

"Abduct the Kenobi kid," he said coolly. "Then take him off planet. I will appoint one of my aides to help you."

"Yes, sir," both 'guards' answered in unison, then turned as one, and left to carry out the order.

Being left alone again, Arones sighed. Those two weren't exactly the smartest of his men, but they were very loyal. He could rely on them in such business. Although he would have to order one of his closest aides to work out an operation plan for them. He pressed the button on his comm. unit again, calling the man he knew to be the best for this task.

******************

Qui-Gon was still sitting in the Imata common room, thinking, when he heard Obi-Wan's call:

//Master,// he heard a faint voice in his head. //Help me!//

Qui-Gon was on his feet in an instant, his Jedi reflexes making him react even before he could think.

//I'm coming, Padawan,// he sent back anxiously. But the sudden cry not only made him anxious, it surprised him greatly. Through all the years Obi-Wan had been Qui-Gon's Padawan, he hadn't often cried out to him like that. In fact, a usually openhearted Obi-Wan became a bit reserved with his Master when something was wrong. He saw being unable to handle a situation as a weakness. And he definitely didn't like his Master seeing him as a weakling. If something was wrong he preferred to hold his own counsel - or Yoda's, Qui-Gon realized with a pang of regret. These thoughts frantically rushed through Qui-Gon's mind in an instant, being cut short with another cry:

//Master!//

Qui-Gon could feel a tinge of desperation in the boy's voice. He reached to Obi-Wan through the bond they shared, trying to send him some comfort. He also tried to understand what was so wrong that made the Padawan cry out to him like that. Next instant a devastating wave of pain rolled over him, and he gasped for breath, his lungs burning. He had to grab the edge of the table to keep himself from falling onto the floor. His mind reeled. Then it all abruptly ended. Obi-Wan had slammed his shields down, cutting Qui-Gon off. This sudden action momentarily deafened Qui-Gon, leaving him dazed. Only the vague echo of pain reverberated at his end of the bond. Everything else was empty.

Qui-Gon quickly let go of the table's edge he was still clutching and hurried to Obi-Wan's quarters on the unsteady legs. All the while a very unsettling thought plagued his baffled mind: if the pain was so severe to him, how much Obi-Wan must suffer?

The Jedi Master ran headlong through the corridors of the building, intent on getting to his Padawan as quickly as possible. The place was so crowded all of a sudden that he collided with people on almost every turn. He could hear angry shouts through the haze that enveloped him, but couldn't care less. People stared at him as he ran past them with his face twisted with worry bordering on insanity.

After what seemed like ages to the distraught Master, he reached Obi-Wan's quarters. The door swished open when he punched in the code impatiently. Qui-Gon's eyes immediately fixed on his apprentice: Obi-Wan was lying in the center of the room, curled up in a fetal position, hugging himself. His fragile form was shaking wildly. Qui-Gon took in Obi-Wan's ashen pale face, eyes squeezed shut, with tears glistening under the lashes. The sight made the Master's heart leap into his throat, and his insides turn cold. Qui-Gon bolted to Obi-Wan's side; he was down on his knees, Obi-Wan's head in his arms in the blink of an eye.

"Obi-Wan," he whispered softly. The only answer he got was a barely audible moan.

Gently embracing Obi-Wan, he reached into the Force. His connection to the Force was frail at best - his worry getting the best of him - but years of being a Jedi enabled him to reach the Force even in such a desperate situation. Obi-Wan's presence - usually so bright - was dim, clouded by suffering and something Qui-Gon could not discern. The presence seemed distorted somehow, ragged at sides. And it was slowly fading into non-existence.

He had to get the medics, to do something! But dare he leave Obi-Wan? Qui-Gon feared to let go of his apprentice, lest Obi-Wan slipped away completely. He tried to pour healing energy of the Force into Obi-Wan but ran full speed into stone walls the apprentice had raised around his mind. He could do nothing. And this helplessness crushed him.

Grudgingly letting go of Obi-Wan, he stood up, his legs quivering all of a sudden. Qui-Gon made his way across the room to the comm. unit and called the medics and called for the medics, hurriedly explaining the situation. He then staggered back to Obi-Wan and kneeled - or rather crashed onto his knees - at his side. He hugged the boy again, trying to share his own warmth with him, since he couldn't share anything else.

"Don't leave me," he begged.

The youth's skin was cold - too cold for Qui-Gon's touch. He was shivering against his Master's broad chest. Slim, trembling hands grabbed Qui-Gon's tunic and clung to it.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered, choking on his words. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

The older Jedi saw the boy's lips move and had to strain to hear what he was saying. Still, all he could make out was: "Master!"

"I'm here, child. Don't worry, it'll be all right," Qui-Gon whispered. He needed the reassurance himself as much as did Obi-Wan - maybe even more. For a moment, blue-green eyes, clouded with pain, opened to regard him. What Qui-Gon saw in them made tears flow freely down his face - for he saw love there. Not the love of a Padawan to his Master but a love of a son for his father. Then the eyes closed again, long eyelashes brushing pallid cheeks. Qui-Gon's heart sunk as the boy went limp in his arms. For a terrible second Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan was dead. The very thought made the world around him crack like a broken glass. Frantically, he reached for Obi-Wan's presence, heaving a sigh of relief through his tight throat upon finding it still trembling somewhere on the verge of darkness of death. Faraway, but still there.

Every minute of waiting for the healers to arrive felt like eternity to Qui-Gon.  What could possibly take them this long?  He questioned the air around him. He was cradling the unconscious Obi-Wan in his arms, gently rocking him, trying - vainly - to reach him through the Force. Amazingly, Obi-Wan still managed to keep his shields up, not letting the pain leak through to his Master.

Finally having had enough, Qui-Gon stood up, gathering the limp form of his apprentice in his strong arms. The youth's head rolled lifelessly. Qui-Gon gently adjusted the boy's head against his shoulder, brushing Obi-Wan's short silky hair.

"Padawan, please, hold on," he pleaded breathlessly around the lump in his throat. Not wanting to wait for another second - that could cost Obi-Wan his life - Qui-Gon darted to the medic center, trying to keep Obi-Wan as steady in his arms as possible.

****************

Anisa strode down the hall; she would have run but she didn't want to risk being seen rushing. It could bring forth undesirable rumors. But her legs carried her faster and faster against her will. Once or twice she had to force herself to slow down for, fearing that she had actually started to jog. People around her gave her weird looks. It wasn't comfortable to walk on high heels either, but some unknown excitement pushed her forward.

 Soon I'll have his soul!  She thought in escalation. She envisioned how she would savour that pristine clear soul, how she would suck it out of him…

 Wait!  Anisa came to an abrupt stop. Several people bumped into her, then started to shout at her. She paid them no heed.  I did not leave Arones and his dirty business to continue doing it on my own. This means I'm not supposed to enjoy taking soul - and life - from this boy.  Shaking her head, she continued on her path, leaving an angered mob behind.

She seemed to reach a resolve to get away from the ugly path she had taken years ago. But nine years couldn't be so easily thrown away. Soon she found herself again thinking about how sweet Obi-Wan and his soul were. She really couldn't help thinking that way - bad habits are hard to get rid of.

She finally reached his quarters - she knew where they were thanks to being Arones' aide and she didn't hesitate to use that knowledge. Deciding to be polite, in case there was someone else, she knocked at the door. Silence greeted her. She knocked again, louder this time. Still, no response. But she couldn't walk away like that. What if Obi-Wan was inside but couldn't answer? She didn't want to loose the chance however small it could be.

She took a small device out of her pocket. Those nine years didn't pass with her just sitting at Arones' side. No, she cared to acquire some useful things, like this one. In a few seconds the little, unsuspiciously looking device overrode the lock, granting the soulhunter entrance to the quarters.

She slipped inside and looked around. From the first look the quarters seemed empty. Careful search only proved that.

 Where could he be?  She wondered.  Imata's quarters, of course!  She silently cursed her stupidity at not thinking about it earlier.

She slipped outside as quietly as she entered, heading for Imata apartment.

*****************

Qui-Gon sat in the waiting room of the Medic center, staring at the closed doors. Behind those doors the medics were examining his Padawan. When Qui-Gon had burst through the doors of the Medic center the medics had been shocked. To their credit, they quickly came to their senses and took Qui-Gon's Padawan from the Master's caring hands and into examination room. Qui-Gon was forced to stay outside.

The waiting room was white and clean, as were all such rooms everywhere across the galaxy. It looked sterile. Thin but persistent smell of antiseptic permeated the air. There were no windows, just two doors: one leading to the corridor, the other - to the examination room. Walls were lined with metal chairs.

Now that Obi-Wan was in capable hands of medics, Qui-Gon felt some semblance of self control return to him.  But are they really capable?  A thought sprang up in his mind, taunting him.  What if they can't find what's wrong with him and, more important, can't heal him? What if…?  Qui-Gon cut the thought short. He couldn't let himself think of that possibility. He wouldn't think of it. Perhaps, if he didn't think of that it would not happen? He heaved a heavy sigh and settled in the chair, intent on waiting and not letting his mind go crazy from the unbearable thought.

He tried to think of something to occupy his mind with, but his thoughts stubbornly returned to Obi-Wan. No surprise there, actually.  But what could happen to Obi-Wan?  This question played itself again and again in his consciousness, driving him mad. But the answer steadfastly eluded him, raising bitter frustration.

Time was slowly trudging by, like endless continuity for the worried Master. Perhaps, an hour has passed. Qui-Gon rubbed his sore back.  Why do the chairs in the infirmaries always have to be so uncomfortable?  He wondered distractedly. Several times he tried to get through to Obi-Wan, but each time his attempts were cut short by the incredibly tight shielding of the boy.  Just where did he learn to shield like that?  Qui-Gon thought gruffly.  That must be Yoda's doing.  He finally decided.

Finally the door to examination room opened, admitting a medic into the waiting room. Qui-Gon was on his feet and near the medic even before the door closed.

"What did you find?" Qui-Gon asked without preamble, not caring for being polite.

The medic rubbed his forehead thoughtfully.

"It is a very unique case," he finally said. His dark eyes peered at Qui-Gon with sympathy.

"What do you mean 'unique'? How is he? May I see him?" The tone of the last statement implied that he would see Obi-Wan even if the medic said 'no'.

"Yes, you may see him now, though he is still unconscious." The medic decided to start from the last of this barrage of questions. He smiled at the Master with a kind and knowing smile, ushering him inside.

Once in the room, Qui-Gon's eyes immediately went to the prone form on the bed. The boy looked so young and frail. His hands were lying lifelessly at his sides. His deathly pale face was turned upwards in a serene expression of unconsciousness. If Obi-Wan wasn't so pale Qui-Gon would have sworn that he was just sleeping. The room was silent, save for a sound of a device, monitoring Obi-Wan's heart activity - comforting and chilling at the same time.

On the unsteady legs Qui-Gon made his way to the bedside. He rearranged Obi-Wan's braid as it was dangling from the bed.  It shouldn't be dangling.  He thought.  He might be negligent with his things at times, but he's always neat with his braid. He wouldn't like it to be disheveled.  He took Obi-Wan's hand in his own, squeezing it lightly, secretly hoping to get a response. But none was forthcoming. The hand was cold and heavy. And motionless.

Of course Qui-Gon had seen Obi-Wan in grave situations before. In their five years together they were through much, especially considering Obi-Wan's tendency to get himself into trouble. Thinking of it they had spent more time in the Temple's infirmary than any other Master/Padawan team in the entire Order. And more often than not it had been Obi-Wan who had been injured. But this time he wasn't injured, at least not evidently. And it was the worst part of it. No one knew what was wrong with him.

That thought finally made Qui-Gon remember about the medic who was standing at his side, patiently waiting.

"So what did you find out?" Qui-Gon asked, still holding Obi-Wan's hand. He didn't seem to be able to let go of it.

"Actually I think I know what's wrong with him," the medic paused, making sure the Jedi was listening to him. Qui-Gon stared at him impatiently. "And you are lucky that it was me who examined him. You see, there are that, let's say, beings - soulhunters. I think one of them had tried to get the soul of your son."

Qui-Gon made no motion to correct him. He had to struggle to maintain the stoic Jedi facade at hearing such news.

"I happened to know something about them but unfortunately I don't know how to heal him," the medic went on. Seeing desolation raise in the tall Master's eyes, he quickly added: "However I know who could help you."

A splinter of hope made Qui-Gon's heart tremble. "And who is that person?" he asked, his voice almost cracking with emotion.

"It is the owner of an establishment called Woland's House," the medic looked at Qui-Gon as if expecting him to say something about not being ridiculous. When the Jedi remained silent, the medic continued: "I'll give you the address. Will you go there?"

Now Qui-Gon was genuinely confused. The man offered him a possibility of getting help. Why in the world would he think that Qui-Gon wouldn't use it?

"Well, you see," the medic answered the unspoken question. "It is a madhouse."

"What?!"

******************